“He dived for the hole. But he never found that way out, and the funny thing was he couldn’t come to the top again. Bill saw it was a proper case that time, and no more Sundays in Poplar. He was surprised to find that the deeper he went the thinner the water was. It was thin and clear, like electric light. He could see miles there, and down he kept falling till he hit the bottom with a bang. It scared a lot of fishes, and they flew up like birds. He looked up to see them go, and there was the sun overhead, only it was like a bright round of green jelly, all shaking. Bill found it was dead easy to breathe in water that was no thicker than air, so he got up, brushed the sand off, and looked round. A flock of fishes flew about him quite friendly, and as beautiful as Amazon parrots. A big crab walked ahead, and Bill thought he had better follow the crab.
“He came to a path which was marked with shells, and at the end of the path he saw the fore half of a ship up-ended. While he was looking at it, somebody pushed the curtains from the hatchway, and came out, and looked at him. ‘Good lord, it’s Davy Jones,’ said Bill to himself.
“‘Hullo, Bill,’ said Davy. ‘Come in. Glad to see you, Bill. What a time you’ve been.’
“Moffat said that Davy wasn’t a decent sight, having barnacles all over his face. But he shook hands. ‘You’re hand is quite cold, Bill,’ said Davy. ‘Did you lose your soul coming along? You nearly did that before, Bill Moffat. You nearly did it that Christmas night off Ushant. I thought you were coming then. But not you. But here you are at last all right. Come in! Come in!’
“Bill went inside with Davy. There was sea junk all over the place. ‘I find these things very handy, old chap,’ said Davy to Bill, seeing he was looking at them. ‘It’s good of you to send them down, though I don’t like the iron, for it won’t stand the climate. See that old hat? It’s a Spanish admiral’s. I clap it on, backwards, whenever I want to go ashore.’
“So they sat down, and yarned about old times, though Bill told me that Davy seemed to remember people after everybody else had forgotten them, which was confusing. ‘Oh, yes,’ Davy would say, ‘old Johnson. Yes. He used to talk of me in a rare way. He was a dog, was Johnson. I’ve heard him, many a time. But he’s changed since his ship came downstairs. He’s a better man. He’s not so funny as he was.’
“Then they had a pipe, and after a bit things began to drag. ‘Come into the garden, Bill,’ said Davy. ‘Come and have a look round.’
“All round the garden Bill noticed the name-boards of ships nailed up. Some of the names Bill knew, and some he didn’t, being Spanish. ‘What do you think of my collection?’ said Davy. ‘Ever seen as fine a one? I lay you never have!’
“Then they came to a door. ‘Come in,’ said Davy. ‘This is my locker. Ever heard of my locker?’
“Bill said it was pretty dark inside. Just light enough to see. But there was only miles and miles of crab-pots, all set out in rows, with a label on each. ‘What do you think of that lot, Bill?’ asked Davy. ‘I shall have to get larger premises soon.’ Bill choked a bit, for the place smelt stale and seaweedy. ‘What’s in the crab-pots, Davy?’ said Bill.