Bahama Bill, Mate of the Wrecking Sloop Sea-Horse

by T. Jenkins Hains

He now groped for the fastenings of the hatchway, hoping to seize them and force the slide back. The covering was of peculiar pattern, high-domed above the coamings, and it was for this reason that the air had failed to find its way through the front of the opening. He felt for the lock and finally found that the hasp was on the outside. He was locked below.

He had been away from the sloop for more than five minutes now, and the men aboard had hauled in the line. It came fast enough, and some leaned over the rail watching until the end came into view. Then they knew, or fancied they knew, the story.

"Gone, by God," came the exclamation from the captain—"he was right—they always travel in couples—" Then he stood there with the rest, all gazing steadfastly down into the clear water of the Gulf Stream that now went past crystal-like and undisturbed. The dim forms of the coral showed below, but nothing like the shape of either man or shark was visible. The disturbed water from the blast had all gone to the northward with the current, and they wondered. If there were a monster lurking in the depths, he must be well under the brig's bilge in the deep shadow. The line told the story the eye failed to reach. It was not new, the story of a lost diver on the Bahama Bank.

They hung over the side and spoke seldom: when they did, it was in a low tone. There was nothing to do, for no one had the hardihood to make the plunge to find out what had happened. They must wait for the wrecking crew. Diving was not to be thought of again for hours.

Meanwhile the mate was below in the dome of the hatchway.

Finding that the slide was fastened on the outside, he put forth all his giant strength to force it. Planting his feet upon the after end, he managed to keep his mouth out of the water and get a grip upon the hatch-carline. Then he strained away to burst the lock.

In the little bubble of compressed air the exertion caused him to pant for breath. He must hurry. The wood creaked dully. A jet of water spurted in his face. The slide was giving way, letting in the ocean from the outside, and in another moment the remaining space of air would be gone. With one tremendous shove he tore the carline loose. Then he clutched frantically at the splintering wood, and as the water closed over him he wrenched the slide loose and drove himself blindly through the opening. The next instant he shot upward, and in a moment he saw the light above. He came to the surface under the sloop's port quarter, bursting into the sunshine with a loud splash.

The captain heard the noise and hurried over to look. The mate's black head was just a fathom below him, and he quickly dropped him a line. Then willing hands reached over and he was dragged on deck. He had been below nearly a quarter of an hour.

Staggering like a drunken man the great mate lounged forward, his bloodshot eyes distended, and his breath coming in loud rasping gasps, a little thin trickle of blood running from his nose and mingling with the salt water pouring down his face. Men seized him and tried to hold him up, but he plunged headlong upon the deck and lay still.

It was nearly half an hour later before he opened his eyes and looked about him. All hands were around him, some rubbing his huge limbs and others standing looking on, waiting to do what the captain might direct. Then he came slowly to and rose unsteadily to his feet. There was a feeling of relief and the men talked. The captain asked questions and plied his mate with whiskey.