Even the blockheads of the checker-board crew, who could hope for no more than their wages from the quest, were staring over the rail from the main deck forward, their mouths open. Marcena Keedy was eating a cigar instead of smoking it.
“Them ribs ought to be there, Captain,” insisted the old man, wistfully. “The rest has been buried, but them ribs have stood all the swash for years. They ought to be there.”
There was another long silence.
Then Captain Holstrom straightened up. “They’re there!” said he. He beckoned to me. I was at the rail. “Come in here,” he directed. “It’s your next peek—for yonder is laid out your job.”
I had good eyes and I spotted the objects right off. There were three curved ribs of a ship outlined against the white of the breaking rollers beyond. The telescope gave the view relief and perspective, and I saw that the ribs were well outshore. Many yards of tossing water, so I judged, were between them and land.
“Well, what do you think?” he inquired, when I passed the glass back.
“I’ll tell you after I’ve been down, sir. A diver can’t afford to waste guesswork on the top side of water.”
The girl shook her head when her father offered her the telescope, and Keedy came in and took his look.
“Away in there, is it? Well, what are we waiting for out here?”
Captain Holstrom looked his partner up and down.