The Secret of the Reef

Though Jimmy had rested since the previous evening, he found the work hard. He had suffered from his exertions under water during the past week, and the tide ran against them, and the long heave threw a heavy strain upon the line as the sloop lifted. The smaller craft was often jerked back almost under her bowsprit, and it needed laborious rowing to straighten out the sinking line. Still, they made progress, and at last dropped anchor beside the wreck early in the afternoon.

“Now,” said Moran, “I guess we’ll go down unless you want your dinner before you start. We haven’t had breakfast yet.”

Bethune laughed and looked at Jimmy.

“Could you eat anything?” he asked.

“Not a bite! I don’t expect ever to feel hungry until we get those boxes up. Lash the ladder while I couple the pipe to the pump!”

Bethune was the first to go down. When he came back after an unusually long stay, he reported that he had been unable to extricate the nearest box, though he had cleared the sand from it before he was forced to ascend. Jimmy took his place, and worked savagely, dragging out the box and moving it toward the bulkhead, but in the confined space, which was further narrowed by some broken timbers, he could not lift it through the opening. While he tried, with every muscle strained, a piece of timber shifted in the sand beneath his feet; and Jimmy lost his balance and fell forward, putting out his lamp.

He felt smaller and less buoyant when he got up, his breath was hard to get, and he grew uncomfortably hot. Then it flashed upon him with a shock of unnerving fear that his air-pipe was foul, and for a moment he grappled sternly with his dismay. There was no time to lose, but he must keep his head. Passing his hand over the canvas dress, which felt ominously slack, he fumbled at the lamp. As he did so a wavering beam of light shot out, shining uncertainly through the water; and he supposed that in falling he must have broken the circuit by pressing the switch. Lifting the lamp, he saw that the tube was bent sharply round a ragged timber, and while his heart throbbed painfully and his breath grew labored, he moved back and reached for it; but he found his hands nerveless and his legs unsteady, and when he stooped to loose the line his head reeled and he pitched forward across the timber, grasping the line as he fell.

CHAPTER XVIII – BOGUS GOLD

Cold as it was, Jimmy lay for a long time on the sloop’s deck when he had been stripped of the diving gear. How he had crawled out of the hole and climbed the ladder was not clear to him; he thought that he must have untangled the line as he fell and have been driven forward by an overpowering longing for the upper air.

He found some trouble in explaining to Moran what had happened, for he felt limp and shaky yet. And he shuddered at the thought of going down again.

“When we once get the box out of the hold,” he said, “there should be no trouble in swinging it on board.”

Moran smoked out a pipe before he took his turn. When the copper helmet disappeared, Jimmy got a firm grip on the signal line; and while he waited he looked about.

The days were rapidly shortening, and the light was growing dim. The horizon seemed to be creeping in on them, obscured by smoky fog, which stirred and wreathed about as the wind sprang up. Small ripples were splashing round the sloop, and the swell was steeper.

“I hope Hank will manage to sling that box,” Jimmy said to Bethune, who nodded as he steadily turned the pump.

“We may get another turn or two, but that will be all. There’s a breeze behind the heave that’s working in.”

Neither of them said anything further, but waited with what patience they could summon until Moran came up.

“I got the box out of the hold before I was beat; the next man shouldn’t have much trouble in hitching a sling round it,” he said, and glanced out to sea as he added significantly: “He’d better get through mighty quick.”

A gust of wind rent the fog, and a long, low mass, shining a dead, cold white, appeared in the gap. Then, while the haze streamed back, another pale streak showed up on the opposite bow.

“They’re all around us!” Jimmy exclaimed hoarsely.

The men were not easily daunted, and they had borne enough in the North to harden them, but the sight was strangely impressive, and their courage sank. This was a peril with which none of them except Moran had grappled; and he had no cause for thinking light of it. The pack-ice was gathering round the island, hemming them in, and the sloop would be crushed like an eggshell unless she could avoid its grip. Then, to make things worse, a blast of bitter air whipped the men’s anxious faces, and the sea broke into short, angry ripples.

“We have got to quit,” said Moran despondently. “But I surely want that box.”

“You shall have it, if I can get the sling on,” Bethune replied. “Help me on with the dress as quick as you can.”

He flung a hasty glance about. A long raft of ice with ragged edges was drifting nearer, and the fog, disturbed by the rising breeze, rolled across the sea in woolly streamers.

“It looks as if I had to finish the job this time,” he said with a harsh laugh. “I no longer have the cheap hotel to fall back on.”

When he had been down for some time, Jimmy, turning the pump in obedience to the plucking of the signal line, began to wonder when he would come up. Bethune seemed particular about his air supply, and Jimmy surmised that he found it needful to move the case along the bottom to get a clear lead for the lifting line because the Cetacea had altered her position. Moran put his hand on the crank when required, but at other times he stood motionless, watching the ice with an imperturbable brown face. Indeed, Jimmy, as a relief from the tension, began to speculate about his comrade and wonder what he thought. Though they had toiled hard and faced many perils together with mutual respect and confidence, he felt that he knew very little about the man. Moran’s reserve and stolid serenity were baffling. When strenuous action was required he could be relied upon, but even then he was seldom hurried, and his movements somehow suggested that his splendid frame was endowed with unreasoning, automatic powers. For all that, Jimmy knew that such a conception of his friend was wrong. He had seen the cool judgment and indomitable courage that controlled the man’s strength in time of heavy stress.

All this, however, was not of much consequence. Jimmy fixed his eyes upon the frothing patch of bubbles that broke the troubled surface of the swell. It was stationary, and Bethune had already stayed below an unusual time. He was not in difficulties, because when Jimmy jerked the line he got a reassuring signal in reply. It looked as if the man expected to bring up the case.

In the meanwhile the ice was driving nearer, propelled by wind and tide, and its low height suggested that it had formed in some shallow bight. If this were so, it might not ground before reaching the sloop. Still, its progress was not rapid, and Jimmy did not think there was any urgent need to recall Bethune, particularly as he must finish his task or abandon it.

At last the bubbles began to move back. It was difficult to follow them because the swell was streaked with foam, but although they were occasionally lost for a few moments, they reappeared. Then the top of the ladder swung against the rail and soon the copper helmet rose out of the sea. Bethune flung an arm on deck and grasped a cleat, but he seemed to have some difficulty in getting any farther, and they dragged him on board. His face was livid when they released him, and he lay back on the skylight without speaking for some moments. Then he gasped painfully:

“The case is slung; I had to move it clear of her. Heave up!”

They sprang to the line he had brought and hauled it in; Jimmy trying to control his fierce impatience. Care was needed lest the sling get loose in dragging along the sand. At last the line ran perpendicularly down, and they were encouraged by the weight they had to lift. Even Moran showed excitement as a corner of the box broke the surface. Throwing himself down, he swung it on board with a powerful heave. Then he and Jimmy dropped down limply on the deck and gazed at their treasure. The box was thick and bound with heavy iron, the wood waterlogged; but, making allowances for that, it obviously contained a large quantity of gold. Jimmy felt exultant, but after a time Bethune disturbed his pleasant reflections.

“Look at the ice!” he exclaimed.

The floe was bearing down on them, and in the distance, half hidden by the fog, a taller mass seemed to have stranded on the reef, for the spray was leaping about it and there was a great splash as a heavy block fell off. Moran glanced at the floe and ran forward. Jimmy joined him and they hurriedly got the chain cable in; then, with Bethune’s help, they reefed the mainsail and stowed the folding ladder and pumps below, but they had a struggle to lift the kedge anchor. It seemed to have fouled some waterlogged timber below; but they would not sacrifice it by slipping the warp, because they knew it might be a long time before they could come back. When they finally broke it out Bethune had already hoisted the mainsail. There was no time to lose, for the fog was getting thicker in spite of the rising wind, and a glimmering mass of ice had crept up threateningly close. Moreover, the light was going and the sea getting up. Hurriedly setting a small jib, they stood out for open sea.

“Make the best offing you can,” directed Jimmy, leaving Moran at the helm. “I’ll get the stove lighted, and after supper we’ll open the case.”

It was nearly twenty-four hours since he had eaten anything and he was beginning to feel faint from want of food. Indeed, he had some difficulty in getting the fire to burn and was conscious of an annoying, slack clumsiness. When the meal was ready he called Bethune down and handed out Moran’s share.

“I’ve been extravagant, but we have earned a feast to-night,” he said exultantly.

They ate hungrily while the water splashed beneath the floorings and the lamp swung at erratic angles as the Cetacea rolled; and Bethune made no objection when Jimmy afterward lighted his pipe. The case lay against the centerboard trunk, but they did not feel impatient to open it. This was a pleasure that would lose nothing by being deferred; they were satisfied to sit still in the warm cabin and gloat over their success.

“Strictly speaking, we have no right to break into the thing,” Bethune said; “and it might perhaps lay us open to suspicion; but I’m afraid I can’t keep my hands off until we get home. Get out the tools, Jimmy.”

Jimmy did so, and then, opening the scuttle, called to Moran.

“We’re going to look inside the box. Is it safe for you to come down?”

Moran seemed to make a negative sign, though Jimmy could hardly see him. It had grown dark, and thick fog was driving past the boat, while the spray that beat in through the weather shrouds indicated that she was sailing hard. Dropping back below, Jimmy closed the scuttle and took up a hammer. His fingers shook and he felt his nerves tingle as he drove a wedge under the first band.

“I wish we’d cleaned out the strong-room; but we can come back, and we have got enough to wipe off our debt and give us a luxurious winter,” he said happily. “It will be a change to put up at a good hotel – we might even make a trip to California; and if Jaques can get somebody to run the store we will bring him and his wife to town.”

“It’s not a very ambitious program,” Bethune laughed. “I dare say we can carry it out; though we don’t know yet what our share will come to.”

“I’ll stand out for half,” declared Jimmy with a determined air. “In fact, we’ll make a bargain before we deliver up the stuff.”

Working eagerly, he soon started the band and inserted a chisel under a board. In a few moments he prized it loose, and thick folds of rotten canvas were exposed.

“There seems to be a lot of packing,” Bethune remarked. “There’s a seal here we’ll have to break; but we have smashed one already. Don’t waste time. Rip it open!”

Jimmy used his knife, and plunged his hand into the case. He was surprised by the feel of its contents.

“It seems to be in small ingots,” he said.

“That’s curious, because there’s no smelter in the country. Slash the wrapping to bits and let’s see it!”

Jimmy did so and then uttered an exclamation as he dropped the object he took out. It was dark-colored, and fell with a dull thud.

“It’s lead!” he cried.