A row of bubbles slowly crossed the belt of shade, stopped and made a frothy patch, and then lengthened out. A flexible pipe slipped across the edge of the open gangway, and Lister felt the line he held. The line was slack and he knew the diver needed nothing. Two half-naked men, their skins shining with sweat, turned the air-pumps handles, and the rattle of the cranks cut the dull rumble of the surf. Brown, sitting on a tool-box, studied a plan of the wreck Cartwright had given him, and Lister thought it typical Cartwright had got the plan. The old fellow was very keen.
By and by Brown looked up and indicated the panting men.
"We want colored boys for this job and must get a gang. I expect you noted Montgomery declared his lot were Kroos. The Kroos are hefty boys and pretty good sailors, but they come from Liberia and there are regulations about their employment. You must engage them on a contract, hold yourself accountable for their return and so forth. All the same my notion is, Montgomery didn't mean to help."
"Then we had better try the native headman he talked about."
Brown smiled, "I've no use for bushmen, but didn't see much use in telling Montgomery I'd been on the Coast before. For one thing, his boys were not all Kroos. You know the Kroo by his blue forehead-stripe, but I saw two or three with another mark. Thought them Gold Coast Fantis, and a Fanti fisherman is useful on board ship. In a day or two I'm going back to see."
Lister lighted his pipe and weighed the captain's remarks. On the whole, he agreed that it did not look as if Montgomery meant to help. The fellow was hospitable, but hospitality that implied his pressing liquor on the captain and making the sailors drunk had drawbacks. Brown had used control, but Lister doubted if his resolution would stand much strain. Then, although Montgomery's story about the need for his being on the spot was plausible, it was, perhaps, strange the head of a merchant house would stop for some time at a factory where his clerks died. However, now Lister thought about it, Montgomery did not state if he had been there long.
"The fellow was generous with his liquor and his boy can mix a cocktail," he remarked.
Brown grinned. "On the Coast, they're all generous with liquor. Montgomery knows this; but I've a notion you are wondering whether he knows me. I reckon not, but he knows the kind of skipper you generally meet in the palm oil trade. Still the type's going out; now ship-owners pay higher, they get better men. In fact, I'm something of a survival from the old school."
He picked up the plan and Lister thought about Montgomery. The man was ill and highly-strung, but this was not strange. The factory was rather a daunting spot; reeking with foul smells and haunted by a sense of gloom. Lister thought one might get morbid and imaginative if one stopped there long. Yet he rather liked Montgomery; there was something attractive about him. Perhaps if they had met in brighter surroundings, when the other's health and mood were normal, they might have been friends. Now, however, he doubted and saw Brown was not satisfied.
The line he held jerked and he signed to the men at the pump. One kept the cranks turning; the other went to the top of a ladder lashed to the hulk's side. The bubbles moved away from the wreck and broke the surface in a fixed, sparkling patch. The diver was coming up and Lister presently helped him on board. When they had taken off his copper helmet and unfastened his canvas he leaned against the pump and breathed hard.