They were more bothersome the next time I allowed the sea to clear. Two dove at a time, and grabbed me, and almost lifted me up with them. I was furious, but I did not try to beat them off. I kept on about my own affairs as best I could, and allowed them to hang on to me. There were a dozen of them above, with knives, and I had no hankering to tackle the pack. I was not sure as to their motives, anyway. One rip of a knife would have put me out of business. But they did not offer to use knives.
I did a short day’s work and went back to the lighter. Captain Holstrom had watched their diving operations and was full of eager questions.
That night we doubled the guards on the Zizania. But no boat came near us.
My friends were ready for me next day, and resumed the same tactics. I carried a bigger knife, and kept my eye out as best I could. But before I got the stream started they were coming at me three at a time. They kept lifting me off bottom, and I wasted a lot of valuable time and much of my little stock of strength before I got down on the sand and began to bore. They were ready for me again as soon as I got up with a box and the sea had cleared a bit. One of them brought a rope, and tried to get it around a box I was handling, but I had my tongs well set, and my men hoisted the treasure away from them. Then they began to interfere with me so savagely that I quit in disgust and signaled to be pulled up.
I was half crazy with rage, and frantic because this sort of business was putting me where I could not realize on that idea which I was nursing.
After listening to me, Captain Holstrom set his cap well down over his ears, jutting his chin, set his teeth, and called for his boat. He was rowed over to the side of the little sloop. He came back very soon and he was not looking pleased.
“I couldn’t get anything out of that bunch except a few grunts and a lot of jabber,” he reported. “They make believe they can’t understand the English language. They want graft, I suppose. They’d understand, all right, if I was to carry over a slug of gold and dump it over the rail. But I’m about tired of feeding gold to everybody who comes along here.”
“This isn’t our gold to give away to all comers,” I told him. He blinked at me, and did not seem to understand. I did not go into that side of the question any further, for I was not ready for much argument at that time. “I’ll not stand for any more ‘hot rocks,’” I told him.
“Nor I, either,” he agreed. “Begin to feed gold to those chaps, and they’ll think we are scared of ’em and they’ll want the whole mess.”
To show them that I was not scared, I went down the next day, and I had a wire edge on my temper. I balked at starting a knife duel, however, and after a struggle got my hole started.