Dutch the Diver; Or, A Man's Mistake

by George Manville Fenn

So beautiful was the scene around him—the soft sunshine, the delicious tint of the water, and the long vistas in the distance of wondrous sea growths, which ran up six, twelve, and fourteen feet towards the surface, all aglow with the most lovely tints—that the desire was strong upon him to walk on beyond the portion of the bottom that had been swept by the dynamite, and gaze upon the various natural objects around. But he had sterner work on hand, and set himself to investigate the appearance of the old hull, in whose interior he was.

For he found now that what had seemed short stumps of blackened wood were some of them six or eight feet high; and that while the upper portions were encrusted with grey shelly matter, the lower were of an intense black, and these had evidently been forcibly denuded by the sweeping away of the sand.

As he moved forward, he gave a twitch or two at the life-line to signal all well; and then had to make the signal that he required more air. An increased supply of the life-giving stream was forced down directly, and, raising his spade, he began to investigate the place more closely. In an instant the bottom seemed to have become alive, for curious flat-fish, whose sides assimilated so strangely to the sand, in which they lay half buried, rose at every step, making little clouds, and going off with a peculiar undulating motion to settle down again, flick the sand and tiny stones over their sides by a peculiar motion of their broad fins, and the next minute they had become invisible.

As to the wreck, there was not much to see beyond the rows of rib timbers on either hand, while where he stood was there nothing but sand, which covered the whole of the interior, though now, probably through the explosions, it was in hillocks, with their accompanying depressions.

Knowing that those above must be anxiously watching, he thrust the spade down into the bottom and began to dig slowly and with great excitement, to find that the tool penetrated easily through; and as he raised the sand, and placed it on one side, it softly flowed back again.

“I ought to have brought an iron rod to probe with,” he thought to himself, as he gave the spade another thrust down, to find that nothing obstructed him, when he became aware of a dull shock, and he was thrown down, for the water seemed to rush by him with considerable violence.

The next moment there was a violent pull at the life-line, and he was raised from his feet in a most uncomfortable position; and, but for a sudden snatch at his signal-cord to signify “All right,” one which he repeated again and again, he would have been drawn to the surface.

In obedience to his signals, the rope was slackened, but he had hardly recovered himself when it was tightened once more, and but for his vigorous snatch to show that he wanted no assistance, those on the schooner’s deck would have drawn him to the surface. He knew well enough now what was the meaning of the shock, and felt how necessary it was for a diver to be full of the calm nerve and courage of a man ready to battle with difficulties, for his safety depended entirely upon his taking the dangers he encountered in the coolest manner.

The conclusion was evidently due to the firing of a dynamite cartridge, but, in spite of this, here was the reason for their trying to drag him to the surface, in the shape of something dim and large approaching him slowly, and apparently without effort. As he saw it at first coming end on, it seemed to him like some very short, thick fish, but as it neared him, and grew more distinct, it swerved off to his right, and his heart beat fast as he saw from its altered position that it was a shark seven or eight feet long.

He signalled again, “More air—all right,” and the tightening life-rope slackened as he drew the long, keen-bladed knife from its wooden sheath.