“I’ve seen the castle,” I remarked, “but how on earth can I find the Royal George buoy, and what is it?”
“Queer thing that,” said Thompson. “That’s where the Royal George went down, with all on board, a hundred and thirty years or so ago. Now the Kaiserin Luisa disappears, in the same place. It’s a red buoy right off Smithsea, you can’t miss it.”
“Right,” said Tom. “So far so good. Now, you haven’t a couple of divers in your desk drawer, have you?”
Thompson laughed. “Sure thing,” he said. “At least I can send you to one, Joe Miggs, who has done more or less work for us. There’s the address,” he said, writing it on a card. “Come and see us before you go.”
Exultantly we left the office, looking back through the window to see our compatriot waving farewell, while his wife, patting her pompadour with one hand, fluttered her handkerchief with the other. By dock and arsenal, through sounds of clanging furnaces and roar of forges, we passed to the street we sought and to the house, a house of mark which bore proudly upon its front a life-size picture of a diver completely apparisoned, with the words “J. Miggs, Diver,” in very small letters below. The low, dark door gave entrance to a small shop, where a man, whistling cheerfully, was using a small soldering tool on a diver’s helmet, assisted by a boy clad in a ticking apron. The man was J. Miggs. Our friend Thompson’s card brought a sudden stop to the cheerful whistle, and it was with a somewhat troubled face that J. Miggs rose, sending his young assistant from the room. The boy out, he locked both doors to the shop carefully, and returned to us.
“Mr. Thompson says that you want a diver,” said Miggs, in a low voice. “I’d do anything I could for Mr. Thompson. Many’s the good job he’s got for me, but I can’t, I absolutely can’t. We’ve been forbidden to take any jobs at all. Notice was served on every diver in town, and me and my partner can’t risk it.”
“What’s your regular rate for going down here in the harbor?” asked Tom.
“Two pounds a day, sir, for each of us. Four pounds for the two, if me and my partner work together.”
“I’ll give you ten pounds apiece for one night’s work,” said Tom.
The man wavered. “I’ve no money for a fortnight, sir, and I’d like to do it, but I dare not; the officers would put me out of business, and I’ve got to support my family.”