With Airship and Submarine: A Tale of Adventure

by Harry Collingwood

But on the following Monday morning, after breakfast, the Flying Fish rose into the air, and, moving out to sea, proceeded to the reef upon which the unknown ship had been wrecked. It was determined to examine first what was believed to be the after part of the wreck; for if any documents, from the contents of which the ship could be identified, still existed in decipherable condition, it would be in one of the cabins that they would almost certainly be found. The position of this portion of the wreck, therefore, having been found, the Flying Fish was sunk as close as possible to it, settling down upon a smooth, firm, sandy bottom, in fourteen fathoms of water, on the seaward side of the reef. There were but four male diving-suits in the ship, but Lethbridge and the Russian colonel were so very nearly alike in size and build that there was no doubt that the suit of the former would fit the latter; and Lethbridge therefore offered Sziszkinski the opportunity to experience the sensation of walking about on the ocean’s bed, and beholding anything of a novel character that there might be to see—an offer which the Russian had gladly accepted. A diving-suit had been provided for Lady Olivia, but it was deemed unadvisable that she should make her first essay at submarine exploration until the others had first been out, and had thus ascertained what difficulties and possible dangers were likely to be experienced. The four men who were going out—that is to say, Sir Reginald, Mildmay, von Schalckenberg, and Sziszkinski—accordingly descended to the lowermost depths of the ship, and entered the diving-room, leaving Lethbridge to entertain the two ladies and little Ida by pointing out such objects of interest as were to be seen from the tightly closed windows of the saloon.

Going at once to the cupboard labelled with Colonel Lethbridge’s name, the professor drew forth the diving-dress and very handsome suit of diving-armour which it contained, and instructed his Russian friend how to don first the dress and then the armour, Sir Reginald and Mildmay meanwhile leisurely assuming their own proper suits; and when at length Sziszkinski was completely equipped, von Schalckenberg quickly donned his own suit, after which the quartette left the diving-room and entered what they called the chamber of egress, carefully closing and securing the door behind them. The water-tap was then turned on, and the chamber gradually filled with water, which flowed in at the level of the floor, and steadily rose about the four occupants until it was over their heads and had reached to the ceiling. Then, having first ascertained that everybody felt all right and quite comfortable, the professor opened the trap-door in the ship’s bottom, and the four men walked out over the flap and found themselves treading the sandy floor of the ocean upon which the ship rested.

They were now in the tunnel-like passage formed by the starboard bilge-keel and the ship’s hull, which curved out over them vast and ponderous as an overhanging cliff. It was intensely dark here, though at either extremity of the tunnel could be seen a small patch of sombre green light, and they therefore switched on the electric lamps, which were attached, one to the helmet and one to the belt of each man; and thus aided, they were enabled without difficulty to make their way out to what Mildmay called the daylight.

Once there—that is to say, clear of the gloom of the overshadowing hull of the Flying Fish—they were able to see with tolerable distinctness, even without the assistance of their lamps, the depth of water being too great for the surface disturbance to reach the bottom and stir up the sand. The water, therefore, was clear and transparent, allowing the light of the sun, already high in the heavens, to pass through and somewhat dimly illuminate the ground upon which they walked with a soft, greenish-blue light. The water was alive with fish, darting restlessly hither and thither; and while some were evidently much alarmed at the apparition of the four gleaming armour-clad figures, from whom they retreated precipitately, others were as evidently consumed with curiosity as to what they were, and came swimming about them with a pertinacity that was highly amusing. It was also very interesting to look upward and watch the waves ceaselessly chasing each other overhead, the shape and formation of each wave being clearly indicated by the lines of rippling light that crossed and intermingled with each other in the production of an endless succession of most beautiful and novel effects.

The wreck was clearly visible at a distance of some three hundred feet, lying at the base of the reef, which shot steeply up out of the sand, and reached to within about a dozen feet of the sea-level. As the four men approached it was seen that the almost shapeless bulk before them was, as had been anticipated, merely the after part of the ship, the remainder doubtless lying on the other, or inshore, side of the reef. That she had been a sailing-ship was evident, for the hollow steel main and mizzen masts, with a portion of the yards and the standing and running gear still attached to them, were to be seen lying upon the steep slope of the reef, evidently where they had fallen when the ship struck. And from the circumstance that all canvas, except the close-reefed topsails, was furled, Mildmay expressed the opinion that she had struck during heavy weather, and doubtless at night, for it was difficult to understand how a ship could have come stem-on upon the reef during the hours of daylight, on a coast where fog is practically unknown. And, to the four curious observers standing down there alongside the wreck, it was perfectly clear that she had struck with tremendous force, for she had pushed half her length across the obstructing reef, and had ultimately broken in two just forward of the mainmast. The half of her at which they were now looking had slid down the side of the reef with such force that her stern had buried itself in the sand to an extent which rendered it impossible for them to read her name and port of registry on her counter, as they had hoped to do. If, therefore, they desired to ascertain any particulars concerning her, it would be absolutely necessary for one or more of them to climb on board and institute a search of the cabins, which, in consequence of the peculiar posture of the wreck—that is to say, the fact that she was reared nearly on end on her stern—appeared likely to prove a task of very considerable difficulty, not to say danger.

Had they been mere ordinary divers, attired in the well-known regulation diving-dress, they would have been unable to communicate with each other, save by the somewhat slow and awkward means of a slate and a piece of chalk. The professor, however, with that foresight which was one of his most remarkable characteristics, had met this difficulty, at the time when the special diving-dresses for the party were in process of manufacture, by the introduction into each helmet of a pair of small but powerful microphones of his own design, with the result that wearers of the dress could hear as distinctly as when they were in the open-air, and could converse together with perfect facility. Hence they were now able to discuss the difficulty that thus unexpectedly confronted them, and arrange a plan of action.

For some minutes the four men stood together, contemplating the wreck and considering the situation generally. Then Mildmay said—

“It appears to me that the only way is for me to climb up to the skylight, open it, and lower myself down into the cabin by means of a rope’s-end, plenty of which are lying about athwart the deck. That skylight undoubtedly will give me access to the cuddy, and from that I shall probably be able to make my way into the other cabins. It is the captain’s cabin that we particularly want; and I shall probably know better where to look for it than any of the rest of you. One of you, however, had better come up with me, as I may possibly require assistance.”

“All right,” answered Sir Reginald; “I will go with you. Shall I go first, or will you?”

“I had better go first, I think; then I can help you up,” said Mildmay.