"The next time I sign on it'll be as a master submarine," I said, with some feeling. "Now, if I didn't have to wear these breeches I could do better and faster work."
"Why don't you take 'em off?" he said.
"But the ladies—I must wear something——"
"Oh, what do you care for a lot of niggers? Strip if it does you any good."
I was just about to take his advice when I noticed the face of Miss Docking passing the port along the gangway. She had been attracted by the crowd aboard, and had come, woman-like, out of pure curiosity, to see what was on.
"No," I said; "I'll fix the rest, all right—gimme another noggin."
I got seven of the eight bolts in place; and the donkey man, assisted by Mac and the entire engine-room force, set them up one at a time after packing the joint properly. Only one wooden plug remained inboard, and the water squirted straight up nearly fifteen feet with the pressure when that was pulled out for my last attempt. If I could get that bolt in, there was a job done that would save the company perhaps a few hundred dollars, and I would get—well, I might get mentioned as something better than the ordinary mate when Bill made his report. But that wasn't what made me do the thing; it was the confounded spirit that Lucy Docking stirred up within me. Oh, yes, I was a fool, all right. I don't deny it.
The affair was getting to be something of a circus by this time, and the coons who were looking on were making remarks. I was about to clear the gangway when I thought that here was the last plug, the last bolt, and then for a nip and a sleep before clearing. I went over with that last bolt, and, as I did so, I saw Miss Lucy gazing out of a cabin port at me. Before I went under her face appeared above the rail and watched. I was so tired by this time that I had the small line, which was hambroline, fast about my armpits, so that Mac and his crew could haul me up if I gave out entirely. This was my mistake.
Down I went, and as I went under I thought I heard the word "Shark!" muttered by some of the colored folk above. I had just shoved in the last bolt when a shadow passed. At the same instant there was a mighty pull upon the line. I was jerked bodily away, and my back scraped the huge barnacles which covered the ship all along in the wake of her engines clear to her sternpost. The razor-like edges cut and stung me. I felt a mighty desire to breathe, and tried to get upward. Then my head struck the bottom of the ship with great violence, and I was partly stunned. This was what probably saved my life, for I ceased to breathe, and the spasm passed.
What really happened was this: