“Let go,” cried Bigley; and away he went again, the weight drawing him down so rapidly that I felt a little envious, and as if I should like to make one of the trips.
He was up again more quickly this time.
“Haul up,” he cried; “it’s of no use. I can’t get the box into the bag. Here, I see!” he cried, “make fast that maund to the rope and put the lead in there.”
He pointed, as he held on by the boat’s edge, to a fish-basket in the stern of the boat; and as soon as the bag had been hauled aboard the rope was set free and fastened, scale-fashion, to the basket.
Bigley’s countenance brightened at this, and seizing it directly he gave the word, declaring that he was all right; and away he went once more, and came up again so quickly that we felt there was something wrong.
“What’s the matter?” I cried.
“Haul up and see,” was his reply; and as the men hauled, everyone held his breath till the basket came up slowly and heavily to the surface.
“It’s a box or a stone,” I cried; and then I gave a shout, in which all the men joined, for there was a square box in the basket and my father lifted it out.
“He’s right! He’s right!” cried my father excitedly. “Bigley, my dear lad, I could not believe that it was true!”
“Over with the basket, sir,” cried Bigley; “quick!” and he went down again and once more rose.