Something brushed against him and nearly upset him. It gave him an uncomfortable feeling, and a longing for the sunshine upon the sea floor of the Bank. He was not of a nervous temperament, and he knew that some sea denizen had evidently made the brig his home. Perhaps some spawning grouper or huge jew-fish.
Feeling along the bulkhead, he came upon a lot of small boxes. One of these he took under his arm and backed slowly out of the hole and into the clear water of the Bank. He laid the box upon the sea floor, and broke the covering with his hammer, hitting it lightly, the resisting power of the surrounding medium making it difficult even to strike at all. He tore away the fragments of the lid, and saw rows of cartridge-clips, the whole fixed and packed carefully. Making fast a line to the case, he signalled to hoist away, and brought his find to the surface.
The stuff proved to be all right. On breaking open a cartridge, the powder appeared dry, in spite of the long submergence, showing how carefully the ammunition had been put up. The dipping of the bullets into tallow had made the cartridges absolutely airtight, and they were as good as new.
The usual cost of ammunition was about two cents per cartridge wholesale. Half a million rounds would make quite a fortune, or something in the neighbourhood of ten thousand dollars to divide between himself and the black mate. Yes, it had been worth while, after all. Wrecking was not such a bad thing, if there was anything worth wrecking, and he wondered how the salvors of the brig had overlooked such a valuable asset. Even if he had to divide with the former owners—which he probably would not—he would have something worth going below for.
"Git de stuff—we'll ship him to Noo York," said Bill. "Ought to cl'ar a bit on dis hear deal. Dey's got de Winchester mark on dem, an' dat goes wid de agents, so do de Union ca'tridge. Git de stuff outen her, cap, fo' we cayn't stay here long—it's comin' on bad befo' dark, an' dere'll be too much sea to work ag'in fer a week."
Smart lost no time getting back to the lazarette of the brig. He took his line with him, and, after fastening it to some of the cases, he signalled to haul away.
Case after case he removed in this manner, and, after being below nearly an hour, he began to feel the effects of the pressure. He concluded to go up and rest for a short time before finishing the job. He hauled a lot of boxes together and lashed them firmly with a line, and signalled to haul away. He felt the pull, the tautening of the rope, and the cases slipped from under his hand. He straightened up and started to follow.
Then he felt the whole side of the ship suddenly fall toward him. It seemed like a mass of stuff, chest upon chest, toppling down upon him, and, before he could make even the slightest movement to get away, the whole pile of cases rolled over him like a great wave.
He was thrown upon his back, and a heavy weight rested upon the lower part of his body. He tried to move, and found himself jammed fast. Feeling nervously for his life-line and hose, he saw they were clear. He would not suffocate for awhile, anyway. He pulled lustily upon his life-line, and felt the strain of Bill's strength upon it, but it failed to move him. He was afraid the line would cut into his suit with the enormous strain.