If Villiers expected to walk into a treasure-chamber glittering with gold, he was mistaken. The place was piled with wooden boxes, some of which had been wrenched open, displaying their rather dull but heavy contents, but on the shelves, and secured from the motion of the ship by steel grids, were canvas sacks. A few of these, rotted by the action of the salt water or else hurriedly ripped open when the Huns made a hasty examination of their booty, had shed a shower of gold coins upon the boxes and on the floor. There were British and Australian sovereigns, Japanese five-yen pieces, Chinese gold taels, and five-dollar pieces, representing almost every American republic on the Pacific coast, and mixed haphazardly.
With little delay the work of clearing the strong-room commenced. New canvas sacks, weighted with pieces of iron, were lowered from the boats above. Into these were poured the contents of the rotten sacks, then at a prearranged signal the men on the raft hoisted the precious specie to the surface.
It was a slow, laborious but at the same time pleasureable task. Movements that could be quickly executed in air were greatly retarded by the pressure of water, and by the time that the divers' air-supply was showing signs of exhaustion only a quarter of the coin had been salved.
For the next week the operations continued uninterruptedly. Villiers and Swaine each making two descents a day.
Compared with the task of recovering the bullion, the preliminary work of clearing the specie was simple. The bullion, packed tightly in iron-bound boxes, had to be extricated bar by bar, for as originally packed each case was too heavy, even under water, to be manhandled.
There were delays, too, in transporting the recovered treasure to the Titania, owing to the lack of sufficient boats, so that, according to Villiers' estimate, three weeks would elapse before the precious metal would be stowed in the yacht's hold.
Dick Beverley was enjoying himself immensely. He worked quite as hard as anybody, and his one regret was that he had not been allowed to don a diving-dress and make a descent. This Harborough bluntly refused to allow.
"This is a salvage company, not a nursery for amateur divers," he remarked, although his refusal was based upon his compact with Bobby Beverley not to expose Dick to any unnecessary risk.
By common consent a substantial share of the treasure was to be given to Pete. The man had earned it fairly. As a cook he was painstaking and conscientious, and when not engaged in his duties in the galley he was always ready and willing to bear a hand at other work.
"What are you going to do with your little lot when we pay off, Pete?" asked Villiers.