“Come away, Miss,—glad to see you—always so,” said Joe, wiping a chair with his cap and extinguishing his pipe out of deference; “sit down, Miss.”
Miss Pritty bowed all round, wished each of the party good-evening by name, and seating herself beside the little fire as easily and unceremoniously as though it had been her own, drew forth her letter.
“This is for you, Mr Baldwin,” she said; “it came enclosed in one to me, and is from my nephew, Edgar Berrington, who says it is important.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” said Joe, taking the letter, opening it, and looking at it inquiringly.
“Now Miss,” said he, “it’s of no manner o’ use my tryin’ to make it out. You mustn’t suppose, Miss, that divers can’t read. There’s many of ’em who have got a good education in the three R’s, an’ some who have gone further. For the matter of that I can read print easy enough, as you know, but I never was good at pot-hooks and hangers, d’ee see; therefore I’ll be obliged, Miss, if you’ll read it to me.”
Miss Pritty graciously acceded to the request, and read:—
“Dear Baldwin,—My aunt, Miss Pritty, who will hand this letter to you, will tell you about our being wrecked. Now, in regard to that I have a proposal to make. First, let me explain. The wreck of the Warrior, after slipping off the ledge on which she struck, sank in twenty fathoms water. On our arrival at Hong-Kong, the agent of the owners sent off to see what could be done in the way of recovering the treasure on board—there being no less than fifty thousand pounds sterling in gold in her treasure-room, besides valuables belonging to passengers. A Lloyds’ agent also visited the place, and both came to the conclusion that it was utterly impossible to recover anything from such a depth by means of divers. This being so, and I happening to be on the spot, offered to purchase the right to recover and appropriate all the gold I could fish up. They laughed at me as a wild enthusiast, but, regarding the thing as hopeless themselves, were quite willing to let me have the wreck, etcetera, for what you would call ‘an old song.’ Now, although nominally a ‘penniless man,’ I do happen to possess a small property, in the form of a block of old houses in Newcastle, which were left to me by an uncle, and which I have never seen. On these I have raised sufficient money for my purpose, and I intend to make the venture, being convinced that with the new and almost perfect apparatus now turned out in London by our submarine engineers, bold divers may reach even a greater depth than twenty fathoms. My proposal then is, that you should come to my aid. I will divide all we bring up into three equal portions. One of these you shall have, one I’ll keep to myself, and the third shall be shared equally by such divers as you think it advisable to employ. What say you? Do the prospects and terms suit, and will you come without delay? If so, reply at once, and send all the requisite material to this place. Be particular to bring dresses made by the first makers in London. I wish this to be a sort of semi-scientific experiment—to recover property from a great depth, to test the powers and properties of the various apparatus now in use and recently invented, and, while so doing, to make my fortune as well as yours, and that of all concerned! Perhaps you think the idea a wild one. Well, it may be so, but wilder ideas than this have been realised. Remember the noble house of Mulgrave!—Yours truly,—
“Edgar Berrington.”
The last sentence in the letter referred to a fact in the history of diving which is worthy of mention. In or about the year 1683 a man named Phipps, the son of an American blacksmith, was smitten with a mania, then prevalent, for recovering treasure from sunken wrecks by means of diving. He succeeded in fishing up a small amount from the wreck of a Spanish galleon off the coast of Hispaniola, which, however, did not pay expenses. Being a man of indomitable perseverance as well as enthusiasm, Phipps continued his experiments with varying success, and on one occasion—if not more—succeeded in reducing himself to poverty. But the blacksmith’s son was made of tough material—as though he had been carefully fashioned on his father’s anvil. He was a man of strong faith, and this, in material as well as spiritual affairs, can remove mountains. He was invincibly convinced of the practicability of his schemes. As is usual in such men, he had the power to impart his faith to others. He had moved Charles the Second to assist him in his first efforts, which had failed, but was unable to similarly influence the cautious—not to say close-fisted—James the Second. The Duke of Albemarle, however, proved more tractable. Through his aid and influence, and with funds obtained from the public, Phipps was enabled in 1687 once more to try his fortune. He set sail in a 200-ton vessel, and after many fruitless efforts succeeded in raising from a depth of between six and seven fathoms, (considered but a small depth now-a-days) property to the value of about 300,000 pounds. Of this sum the usurious Earl obtained as his share 90,000 pounds while Phipps received 20,000 pounds. Although James the Second had refused to aid in the expedition, he had the wisdom to recognise the good service done to mankind in the saving of so much valuable property at so great personal risk. He knighted Phipps, who thus became the founder of the house of Mulgrave—now represented by the Marquis of Normanby.
When Miss Pritty had concluded the letter, Joe Baldwin turned to Rooney Machowl:—
“What think you, lad,” he said, “would you venture down to twenty fathom?”