Dixon turned his back upon him in order to make an end of the matter, at the same time shouting to the diver:
"Ready there? ... Look sharp about it."
The diver went down the steps and into the water up to his waist; he hitched an electric lamp with brightly polished reflector on to his chest, and the helmet was screwed on over his head. The air-pump began to work with long, absorbent puffs, and the copper helmet gradually disappeared under the water, which bubbled up over it; the assistant paid out the coil and the rope with mechanical precision. Fifteen minutes passed, then the diver came up again on the steps. Toroni bent down to him, and Dixon and Corman also came forward; the diver opened the little glass pane in the helmet.
"The wreck is there all right; it has sunk a little lower, but there are no difficulties. The chests are all right in the saloon."
"The fifteen, all told?" inquired Toroni.
"Yes, all of them, safe and uninjured."
Toroni gave his friends a look, but no word passed between them. A windlass had been rigged up over the side of the barge, and the diver at once went back to the wreck, taking a supple steel wire with him.
The group on the boat stood stiff and motionless in silent expectation; the men looked like coal-black shadows in the steady rays of the searchlight; it was pitch dark all round. Tom, sick with suspense, sought the back of a chair as support. Everything had gone so fast and in such a business-like manner that time after time he was forced to repeat to himself: "The gold is there, it is there."
Again, in despair, he asked: "Where can Wallion be, what can prevent him from coming?"
CHAPTER XXII