"And watch out for the tide," cautioned the skipper. "It's ebbing strong and you might lose your bearings if you don't look sharp."
Frenchy grinned, and unstrapped his sheath-knife.
CHAPTER XII
IN THE DEPTHS
As the steward helped pull up the rubber dress about the body of Dennis, he spoke in a low voice.
"Beg pardon, sir, but hit looks like you 'ad lost your knife."
Dennis glanced down at the deck where his paraphernalia lay. The belt and sheath were there; but the large knife, a regular part of every diver's equipment, was missing.
"That's queer!" he said slowly. "Hm! Probably Corny lost the knife and didn't notice it. Better get me one from the galley, steward: it'll take a carving knife to fit that big sheath."
"Yes, sir." The steward slipped off into the mist. The two Kanakas stood at the pump-wheels, shivering in the mist and talking together.
A moment later the steward reappeared, carrying a long, keenly edged carving knife. He tried it in the sheath, and it fitted well enough.