It had shown me that the millions were there—money-enough for all that life or love might require in this world. I had got a peep—had got one taste—and the malicious ocean had tucked it all out of reach once more, and was making faces at me with the wrinkles of that hard-packed sand.
It was useless to remain down and exhaust myself. I signaled, and returned to the lighter.
As soon as my bull’s-eye cleared after I came up out of the bubbling water I saw Keedy. He was perched on the rail near the life-line coils, looking down at me like a fish-hawk eying its prey. For a moment I was glad I did not have another box. I enjoyed his disappointment.
Then, after my helmet was off, I told Captain Hol-strom that a change in current had piled up the sand and that nothing could be done that day.
“That’s it!” raged Keedy, smacking his fist into his palm. “You wouldn’t take my advice yesterday. You wouldn’t follow your hand when the cards were running right. I understand about those things. That was the time to double the ante! I know how to play the game for what it’s worth. There ain’t any brains in this whole outfit except what I’ve got under my hat. I see it’s up to me to go down there and show you how to do this thing.”
“I’ll be out of this diving-dress in a few minutes,” I told him. “You’re welcome to use it.”
I had a wild hope that he was mad enough to go down—angry enough and gold-hungry enough. It would have settled the case of Keedy if he had gone down—soaked with rum and tobacco as he was. But he swore and walked away and jumped into the life-boat—so much of a coward that he wanted to put as great a distance between that dress and himself as he could.
I can describe the happenings of the next two sad weeks in two words, “Nothing doing!”
Not that I didn’t go down. I went every day. I tried all kinds of tools. I sat up nights to think, and worked days under water until they had to pull me back to the lighter, riding on my back over the sand hummocks, so weak that I could not use my feet and drag my lead-weighted shoes. But the old Pacific had given us our one mouthful of bait, and now was mocking us. If I loosened sand the ocean took that sand and piled it higher over the treasure. And all the time Keedy glowered and growled and swore, and said I was not half trying.
One morning Captain Holstrom came banging on my state-room door before I was awake. He tried to tell me something, fairly frothing at the mouth, but the words tumbled over each other so rapidly that I couldn’t understand. He was jabbing a slip of paper at me, and I took it and read: