"Werry good, sir. All set!"
Dennis liked the little Cockney—he liked the man's thorough responsibility in his job of watching the pumps. But now, as he helped adjust the back and breast-pieces, and buckled the belt about his waist, he felt once more that in this work he was putting himself in the power of his enemies.
He forced a laugh at the idea; yet it took a supreme effort to conquer his imagination. They did not want to kill him, of course—but if they did, how easy in this fog! But that was all nonsense. There was no question of murdering. The very notion was folly!
Dennis helped the steward adjust the big copper helmet, and the Cockney screwed it fast into the neck-plate. A moment later, Dennis was climbing over the rail. The usual diver's shot-line would carry him straight down, and besides this, a ladder had been slung over the stern to assist in the ascent. The steward gave him the four lines, attached to the rail at intervals which would prevent their fouling after being attached to the cases, and Dennis slipped down into the depths.
As always, the steady and regular clicking of the pumps sounded through his air valves with reassuring effect. Captain Pontifex had not provided very up-to-date outfits, with telephones and electric lights and other frills—for this reason no diving work could be done at night. The suits were good and dependable, however, lacking only gloves to make them well adapted to this icy water.
Dennis resolutely dismissed all thoughts of possible danger, and concentrated his attention upon the work in hand.
As Corny had reported, the water down below was clear enough for work, but the lack of filtering sunlight made it gloomy, grey, and obscure in details. When at last Dennis felt his feet touch the bottom, he was forced to stand for a moment and adjust his eyesight to the altered conditions. Presently he was enabled to descry objects, and he moved toward the scattered and far-strewn heaps of boxes which lay between the two sections of the John Simpson.
Dennis could see nothing of Pontifex at work below, but in the present obscurity that was not strange. Besides, the divers, from waist and stern of the Pelican, kept as far apart as possible for fear of the lines fouling.
Now, as he advanced, Dennis thought that he perceived a dimly moving shape off to his left to seaward; but it vanished almost instantly. It might have been some fish, he concluded, or a bunch of drifting algae. It was now hard upon noon, and the tide was fast on the ebb.
With the strange buoyancy which comes to the diver on the bottom, Dennis took leaps, one after the other, with a boyish delight. He cleared no ground this way, however, and soon returned to the slow progress afoot; there was too much danger of losing his balance and burying his helmet in the ooze as he came down.