In the meanwhile the ice was driving nearer, propelled by wind and tide, and its low height suggested that it had formed in some shallow bight. If this were so, it might not ground before reaching the sloop. Still, its progress was not rapid, and Jimmy did not think there was any urgent need to recall Bethune, particularly as he must finish his task or abandon it.
At last the bubbles began to move back. It was difficult to follow them because the swell was streaked with foam, but although they were occasionally lost for a few moments, they reappeared. Then the top of the ladder swung against the rail and soon the copper helmet rose out of the sea. Bethune flung an arm on deck and grasped a cleat, but he seemed to have some difficulty in getting any farther, and they dragged him on board. His face was livid when they released him, and he lay back on the skylight without speaking for some moments. Then he gasped painfully:
“The case is slung; I had to move it clear of her. Heave up!”
They sprang to the line he had brought and hauled it in; Jimmy trying to control his fierce impatience. Care was needed lest the sling get loose in dragging along the sand. At last the line ran perpendicularly down, and they were encouraged by the weight they had to lift. Even Moran showed excitement as a corner of the box broke the surface. Throwing himself down, he swung it on board with a powerful heave. Then he and Jimmy dropped down limply on the deck and gazed at their treasure. The box was thick and bound with heavy iron, the wood waterlogged; but, making allowances for that, it obviously contained a large quantity of gold. Jimmy felt exultant, but after a time Bethune disturbed his pleasant reflections.
“Look at the ice!” he exclaimed.
The floe was bearing down on them, and in the distance, half hidden by the fog, a taller mass seemed to have stranded on the reef, for the spray was leaping about it and there was a great splash as a heavy block fell off. Moran glanced at the floe and ran forward. Jimmy joined him and they hurriedly got the chain cable in; then, with Bethune’s help, they reefed the mainsail and stowed the folding ladder and pumps below, but they had a struggle to lift the kedge anchor. It seemed to have fouled some waterlogged timber below; but they would not sacrifice it by slipping the warp, because they knew it might be a long time before they could come back. When they finally broke it out Bethune had already hoisted the mainsail. There was no time to lose, for the fog was getting thicker in spite of the rising wind, and a glimmering mass of ice had crept up threateningly close. Moreover, the light was going and the sea getting up. Hurriedly setting a small jib, they stood out for open sea.
“Make the best offing you can,” directed Jimmy, leaving Moran at the helm. “I’ll get the stove lighted, and after supper we’ll open the case.”
It was nearly twenty-four hours since he had eaten anything and he was beginning to feel faint from want of food. Indeed, he had some difficulty in getting the fire to burn and was conscious of an annoying, slack clumsiness. When the meal was ready he called Bethune down and handed out Moran’s share.
“I’ve been extravagant, but we have earned a feast to-night,” he said exultantly.
They ate hungrily while the water splashed beneath the floorings and the lamp swung at erratic angles as the Cetacea rolled; and Bethune made no objection when Jimmy afterward lighted his pipe. The case lay against the centerboard trunk, but they did not feel impatient to open it. This was a pleasure that would lose nothing by being deferred; they were satisfied to sit still in the warm cabin and gloat over their success.