Chapter Forty Six.
Treasures from the Deep.
It was a glorious morning. There had been no wind for nearly three weeks beyond pleasant summer breezes, and the water was as clear as crystal, which is not so very often the case on our shore.
My father had soon completed his preparations, there being a fine larch in the woody part of the Gap; and this was soon felled, stripped, and cleared of branch and bark. Bigley soon found a suitable rope and block in his father’s store, and a couple of boats were got ready, with a suitable bag of rough canvas, in which several holes were cut out so as to allow the water to pass readily through.
All this was got ready in a couple of hours, three pigs of lead were placed in the boat, in case one would be lost, and with the foreman to help, and a couple of men to pull, we set off from the beach with no lookers-on, and in a short time we were fast to the line that marked the spot where the boxes were supposed to lie.
Bigley gave vent to a sigh of satisfaction, for he had been in a terrible fidget, telling me over and over again that he was sure the boat-hook which served as a buoy had been washed away, and totally forgetting that the cluster of rocks known as the Goat and Kids were so familiar to the fishermen about that the spot could easily have been found again.
However there we were. The line was hauled tightly in over the bows of our boat, the pole thrust down straight to the bottom, but only to keep rising up until one of the pigs of lead was lashed on to the thick end, when it consented to stay. The block with its wheel had already been secured in its place, and the rest of the gear being ready nothing remained but to make the first descent, and for which Bigley was eager.
“I scarcely like to send you down, Bigley,” said my father just at the last. “I hardly feel justified in doing so.”