“I can’t,” Aynsley answered with a smile. “I’m afraid I haven’t much control over him.”
Early in the evening Clay came on board and sat in the cockpit while the men relieved each other below. He asked a question now and then, but for the most part waited quietly, watching the bubbles that rose in milky effervescence.
At last the diver came up, and was followed closely by Bethune, bringing a rope.
“The strong-room’s open,” he said exultantly. “Heave on that line and see what you get!”
Moran pulled with a will, for there was some resistance to be overcome, and Jimmy leaned down in strong excitement when a wooden case smeared with sand broke the surface. Seizing it he came near to being dragged over the rail, and Bethune had to help him to lift it on board. Clay examined the case coolly, studying the half-washed-out marks.
“You ought to get something handsome for salvage on that, and I won’t contest your claim,” he said. “Keep it on board if you like; our diver’s paid by the day. Now, if you’re ready, we’ll go down.”
They carefully fastened on his dress, but when Bethune gave him a few instructions he said his own man had told him all he needed to know during the voyage. Jimmy put on his helmet and went first down the ladder, waiting at the bottom for Clay. It was, he felt, a strange experience to be walking along the sea-floor with a man who had been his enemy; but he was now master of the situation. Indeed, he had to help his companion when they reached the entrance to the hold and he did not think that Clay could have crept up the dark passage between the shaft tunnel and the hanging weed on the ship’s crushed side without his assistance. Their lamps glimmered feebly through the water that sucked in and out, and it was no easy matter to keep signal-lines and air-pipes clear. Clay, however, though awkward and somewhat feeble in his movements, showed no want of nerve.
When they crawled into the strong-room he stood still, moving his lamp. The pale flashes wavered to and fro, searching the rough, iron-bound planks, until they stopped, fixed upon one spot. Clay beckoned Jimmy toward it, and then, losing his balance, lurched and swayed in a ludicrous manner before he could steady himself. Jimmy thought the man must be mistaken, for he had indicated a plank in the deck between two iron plates, although, as the wreck had fallen over, the plank was on one side of them, instead of being overhead. He turned to Clay with a questioning motion of his hands, but the flicker of light was still fixed upon the same spot. Jimmy raised the crowbar he had brought and drove it into a joint nearly level with his head, and Clay indicated that he was doing right.
Jimmy knew that he had no time to lose. Clay was not in good health, and had already been under water as long as was safe for a man unaccustomed to the pressure. If he broke down, it would be difficult to get him out of the hold. For all that, Jimmy was reluctant to abandon the search a moment before it was necessary. It was getting dark, the stream was gaining strength, and it did not seem probable that any one could get down again that night. Jimmy wanted to finish his task.
The beam he attacked was soft, but two bolts ran through it and an iron strap was clamped along its edge. The rotten timber tore away in flakes, but Jimmy could not break out a large piece, and the iron fastenings deflected his bar. He glanced at his companion, who encouraged him by a gesture; and then fell to work again with determined energy. He did not know how long he continued, but he was disturbed by a movement of the water and saw Clay swaying slackly to and fro. It looked as if he were about to fall, but his heavy boots and buoyant dress kept him upright. Still he might go down, and Jimmy knew that it is hard to recover one’s balance in a diving dress. Clay must be got out at once. Jimmy seized his arm and made his way toward the opening, thrusting his companion along the side of the shaft tunnel.
It was with keen relief that he dragged him clear of the splintered beams at the entrance to the hold and stepped out on the level bottom of the sea. No light came down through the water, even the shadow of the sloop above was no longer discernible; but Jimmy had his signal-line for guide and followed it with his hand on Clay’s shoulder, until he distinguished the ripple of the tide about the ladder.
Pushing his companion toward it, he watched his clumsy ascent and then clambered up. When he got on board Clay was sitting on deck, but he sank back limply against the cabin top as they took his helmet off. It was nearly dark, but they could see that his lips were blue, and that his livid face was mottled by faint purple patches. He gasped once or twice, and then began to fumble awkwardly at the breast of the diving dress.
“I know what he wants!” cried Aynsley. “Get these things off him as quick as you can! Somebody bring me a spoon!”
They hurriedly stripped the canvas covering from the half-conscious man, and, taking a small bottle from his vest pocket, gave him a few drops of the liquid. It took effect, for in a few moments Clay feebly raised himself.
“Better now; not used to diving,” he said, and turned to Jimmy as Aynsley and a seaman helped him into the waiting gig. “We’ll get the case next time.”
The gig pulled away, and the three men watched it disappear into the darkness.
“It’s lucky you were able to bring him up,” Bethune observed.
“I was scared at first,” Jimmy confessed. “Perhaps I should have come up sooner, but he seemed determined to stop.”
“What about the case?”
“We hadn’t time to get at it. You see, it’s not in the strong-room. He made me start cutting out the underside of the deck.”
“The deck!” exclaimed Moran. “Then they must have put the stuff in the poop cabin!”
“I don’t think so. I expect there’s a shallow space between the main beams and the cabin floor.”
“And that’s where the case is? It strikes me as curious; distinctly curious!”
“I dare say; I didn’t think of that. The most important thing is that we ought to reach the case in about an hour.”
“It’s too risky. The tide’s running strong now, and it’s going to be very dark. We have kept clear of serious trouble so far, and I see no sign of wind.”
Jimmy reluctantly agreed to wait until the morning and Bethune went below to get supper ready.
At daybreak Aynsley pulled across in the yacht’s small dinghy, and his face had an anxious look as he entered the Cetacea’s cabin, where Jimmy was cleaning some of the pump fittings by lamplight.
“How is Mr. Clay?” Jimmy asked.
“He looks very ill. I left him getting up and sculled across as quietly as I could to have a talk with you. Can you do anything to prevent his going down? I don’t think he’s fit for it.”
“I’m afraid not. You see, we’re at variance, in a way, and if we made any objections he’d get suspicious.”
“You couldn’t play some trick with the diving gear? I’m worried about him; the pressure and exertion might be dangerous.”
“We might put our own pump out of action, but we couldn’t meddle with yours, and he might insist on going alone.”
“That wouldn’t do,” said Aynsley. “I wouldn’t hesitate to smash our outfit, but he’d get so savage about it that the excitement would do more harm than the diving.”
“Then you’ll have to reason with him.”
Aynsley smiled.
“I’ve been trying it ever since we dropped anchor, and it hasn’t been a success; you don’t know my father.” He gave Jimmy a steady look. “He means you to be his companion, and although I’ve no claim on you, I want you to promise that you’ll take care of him.”
Everything considered, it struck Jimmy as curious that he should be the recipient of this request; but he sympathized with Aynsley, and imagined that his anxiety was justified. Clay had treated them harshly, but he was ill and apparently powerless to injure them further.
“Very well,” he promised. “I’ll do the best I can.”
“Thanks!” responded Aynsley in a grateful tone. “I can trust you, and I’ve a notion that my father feels safe in your hands; though he’s not confiding, as a rule.”
“If you’ll wait a minute we’ll give you some coffee,” Bethune said hospitably.
“No, thanks!” replied Aynsley. “I must get back before I’m missed. There’d be trouble if my irascible father guessed why I’d come here.”
He jumped into the dinghy and sculled her silently into the mist that drifted between the vessels; and half an hour later Clay came off with the diver in the gig. His face had a gray, pinched look, and Jimmy noticed that he breathed rather hard after the slight effort of getting on board the sloop.
“I think you had better let me finish the job, sir,” he said. “You’d be more comfortable if you waited quietly on board until we brought up the case.”
“I’m going down,” Clay answered shortly. “You might not be able to get at it without my help.”
“Anyway, you can wait until we break through the deck. It will shorten the time you need stay below.”
After some demur, Clay agreed to this; but he suggested that Moran and Bethune should clear the ground instead of sending his own diver, and in a few minutes they were under water. It was some time before they came up, and when they had undressed Clay looked hard at Bethune.
“Have you cut the hole?” he asked.
“Yes,” said Bethune; “I think it’s big enough.”
“You didn’t go through?”
“No; we’d been down quite long enough.”