“I will not do it, Captain Duncan, if I cannot,” said Bigley laughing. “Now, then, off!”
The bag, which with the lead inside had been resting on the gunwale, was lowered into the water; Bigley seized it, and in an instant over he turned to go down head-first, with the line running rapidly through the block, and then all at once growing slack.
My father and the foreman held the end, but like the rest they leaned over the side of the boat to watch the movements of the white figure they could indistinctly see far below, for the water was of course disturbed, and our movements in the boats kept up a series of ripples which blurred the surface.
My heart beat fast, for Bigley seemed to be down a long time, though it was only a few seconds before he rose rapidly to the surface and swam to the boat.
“Well, my lad,” cried my father excitedly, “there is nothing, then?”
“I couldn’t manage it the first time,” panted Bigley. “I got hold of a box, but it was awkward work getting it into the bag. I could not hold it and get the chest in too. Haul up, please.”
“But are you sure you can do it?” said my father.
“I am certain, sir,” replied Bigley; and the men began to haul up the bag.
As Bigley was about to give the word to let go once more there came a loud “Ahoy!” from the shore; and turning my head I saw that Bob Chowne had come over and was asking to be fetched.
“It is impossible,” said my father—“he must wait;” and I knew as well as if I were listening to him that Bob was saying something about our always having all the fun.