“Silence!” roared the captain. “Stand back, both of you. Oakum, see that no one goes near the tube. Haul in gently there; he’s coming up.”
This was the case, for in another minute the great round top of the helmet was seen to emerge from the water; its wearer mounted the side, and was soon relieved of his casque, displaying the flushed face of Dutch, who looked sharply round.
“Some one must have stepped on the tube,” he said. “Who was it?”
“It lies between these two,” said Captain Studwick, pointing to the pair of adversaries.
“It was the nigger, sir,” said Tolly.
“No, sah, ’sure you, sah. I too much sense, sah, to put um foot on de tubum. It was dis fellow, sah,” said the black, with dignity.
“I presume it was an accident,” said Dutch, quietly. Then, turning to the divers—“I have been down, as you see, my men. The apparatus is in perfect working order, the water clear, the light good, and the copper easy to get at. Begin work directly. If anything goes wrong, it is the fault of your management.”
“But ain’t this black fellow to be punished?” began the man Tolly.
“Mr John Tolly, you are foreman of these divers,” said Dutch quietly, “and answerable to Mr Parkley for their conduct. If one of the sailors deserves punishment, that is Captain Studwick’s affair.”
For a moment there was dead silence, then ’Pollo spoke.