“There,” said Rasp, “where would you have been without me? I see John Tolly go by the orfice half-an-hour ago, so drunk he could hardly walk, and Morrison as well, and—”
“Tut, tut, tut! we must have them,” exclaimed Mr Parkley. “The scoundrels! to deceive us like this. Pugh, come ashore, we must get the police to help us.”
“Then we shall not sail to-day,” said the captain, with a shrug. “Never mind, we shall have the more time for getting ship-shape.”
“Nonsense!” said Mr Parkley eagerly; “we shall soon be back.”
The captain shook his head, for he knew better; and night had fallen, and no more had been seen of the two divers on whom so much depended.
As the day wore on, Mr Parkley and Dutch returned to the ship two or three times to report progress, if such it could be called, for nothing was heard of the two divers.
“Dutch Pugh,” said Mr Parkley, on one of these meetings, “I shall never forgive myself. Here am I, as I thought, such a business-like man, and what do I do but go and forget to look after the very mainspring of my works. I fit all my wheels together, and then when I want to wind up there’s no springs. What should we have done without divers?”
Night closed in without success, and a little party assembled in the cabin, for as the ship might sail at any time, those who occupied the place of passengers felt that it was hardly worth while to return ashore. Mr Parkley kept a bright face on the matter, but it was evident that he was a good deal dispirited, though he chatted merrily enough, and talked to John Studwick and his sister of the beauties of the land they were about to visit.
“If we get off, Mr Parkley,” said John Studwick, quietly.
“Get off, sir; why of course we shall. These two scoundrels will come off to-morrow morning, penniless, and with sick headaches. The rascals!”