“Have you cut the hole?” he asked.
“Yes,” said Bethune; “I think it’s big enough.”
“You didn’t go through?”
“No; we’d been down quite long enough.”
“Give me that brandy,” Clay said to a steward in the waiting gig, and turned to Jimmy when he had drained a small wineglass. “Now we’ll get to work as soon as we can.”
Jimmy went down the ladder and Clay followed him steadily across the sand. The tide was low, the stream slack, and the dim green water was filled with strange refractions of the growing light above. The sloop rode overhead, a patch of opaque shadow, and the wreck loomed up, black and shapeless, in front. They reached her without trouble, and Jimmy switched on his lamp and carefully cleared Clay’s air-pipe and line before he crawled into the dark gap. The man seemed to move with greater ease and confidence than he had shown on the previous day, and Jimmy felt reassured as he guided him along the side of the shaft tunnel. Glancing at the long streamers of weed that wavered mysteriously through the gloom, he remembered the sense of fear and shrinking he had had to overcome on his first few descents. It looked as if he need not be anxious about his companion.
It was more difficult to get him into the strong-room, but they entered it safely and Jimmy saw that Bethune and Moran had thrown up a bank of sand under the hole between the beams. This would make it easier to reach, but as he was arranging his air-pipe preparatory to entering Clay made an imperative sign. Jimmy felt surprised, because the man obviously meant that he was going first. Though it would not be hard to scramble up after seizing a timber, the feat would require some exertion, and Jimmy tried to make this clear, but Clay disregarded his signaled objections. It was impossible to explain himself properly in pantomime, and, as Clay seemed determined, Jimmy let him go. He might grow suspicious and perhaps combative if force were used to detain him.
Jimmy helped him up, and then felt anxious as Clay’s swollen legs and heavy boots disappeared through the hole. The space above must be low, and was probably cumbered with wreckage, but Jimmy saw that Clay’s air-pipe and signal-line ran steadily through the gap, which implied that he found no difficulty in moving about. Faint flashes of light, broken up into wavering reflections, came out of the hole and Jimmy switched off his lamp so that he could see them better. Though he meant to keep his promise to Aynsley, he admitted that the tension he felt was not solely on Clay’s account. The recovery of the case was of great importance to his party, and if they failed to secure it now a change in the weather might frustrate the next attempt or perhaps place the gold altogether out of reach.
After a while it struck Jimmy that Clay ought to come out. The man was unaccustomed to diving and was in precarious health; moreover, if he could not get at the case, Jimmy meant to try. He pulled the line, and got a signal in answer that gave him no excuse for interfering; so he waited until the pipe and line began to run backward. Then a light flashed sharply as if in warning, and as Jimmy turned on his lamp a dark object fell from the gap. It was large and square and, striking the sand with its edge, darkened the disturbed water.
Thrilled with a sense of triumph, Jimmy turned to help Clay, who was coming out of the hole; but as Clay’s legs dangled he lost his grip and fell backward. He did not come down violently, but sank until one foot touched the sand, and then made fantastic contortions. His buoyant dress supported him and he looked a grotesque figure as he lurched about. Jimmy, however, was alarmed, for it dawned on him that this was not the result of inexperienced clumsiness. Clay had lost control of his limbs: he was too weak to keep the balance between his heavy helmet and his weighted boots. Indeed, he was obviously helpless, and it would be a difficult task to get him out of the wreck; but it must be set about at once.