Ten white men and twenty blacks were the outfit. This with what I had was enough to raise the ship had we so wished. Only two of the white men were divers—Williams, a sturdy fellow weighing nearly three hundred; and Mitchell, a short, powerful man, about two hundred and fifty. Both were under forty, and had done plenty of deep-water work. They looked upon the job as trifling.
"We'll blow the deck off to-morrow, and then tear out a side of the room," said Haswell. "After that we can disconnect the safe, and you can get your winches to do the rest. In three days we ought to cover the job."
The hot, oily calm continued. The night was something fierce to contemplate. The sun came out again like a molten ball of metal, and Haswell donned his suit lazily, while the air pumps, manned by four blacks, were started.
A ladder reaching a fathom down under the sea was fastened to the tug's side, and Haswell lowered himself over upon it, and waited for his helmet. This was fastened by Williams, and then the air was started.
As it whistled into the dome, the front glass was screwed on, and the little man was shut off from us. Slowly he went down and swung clear, dropping out of sight in a storm of bubbles which rose from his helmet.
I took out the water glass. This was a cylindrical bucket with a glass bottom. By jamming one's head into the bucket and sinking the bottom of the affair under the sea to a depth of three or four inches, objects could be seen about twice as distinctly as without it—this owing to the fact that in the open the reflection and motion of the light upon the always moving sea surface, prevent the gaze from following objects distinctly.
In order to use the water glass it was, of course, necessary to get close to the sea.
I dropped into the small boat lying alongside the wrecking tug, and leaned far over the gunwale, peering down. The long, easy swell, the sure sign of an immense calm area of sea, came slowly from the westward and rolled the boat gently but enough to keep me from getting a good look until I caught my balance. Then I managed to get the glass down firmly, and hold it about four inches under with my head in the bucket.
At first I could make out little or nothing. The sea was not very clear at the spot, owing to the close proximity of the low, sandy shore where the surf rolled incessantly, stirring up the bottom. Soon I could make out the outline of the deck below where the flying bridge rose within three fathoms of the surface.
The Heraldine was drawing about twenty-two feet when she sank, and her flying bridge was fully twenty-five to thirty above the sea. I tried to see farther, but could make out nothing at all.