Dutch the Diver: or, A Man's Mistake

A slight motion in the fore part of the ship roused him to the necessity for immediate action, and now with eager haste he cautiously felt about, and placed the galvanic battery in a convenient spot, took hold of the reel of fine silk-covered wire, arranged it so that it was not entangled, and then, having assured himself that all was right, he took out his knife and cut the boat’s painter, floating now gently away in the wake of the schooner, while as he did so he let the wire run rapidly out so that a connection was kept up.

There must have been at least a hundred yards of wire, and the schooner glided away so gently that there was never any stress on the frail metal cord, till the last rings ran off the reel, when Lauré, with a cry of exultation, checked the progress softly and felt for the wire’s end.

The schooner could hardly be distinguished now, and there was not a moment to lose, for if the wire were tightened till it dragged on the boat it must part, so with trembling eagerness the Cuban twisted the slight metal strand twice round his left hand, while with his right he placed the end against the brass connection of the plates in the battery.

The work was instantaneous.

As he touched the connection with the tiny point of copper there was a hissing noise in the jar, a little point of light darted at the end of the wire, and simultaneously a hundred yards away in the darkness there was a tremendous flash, the darkness was illuminated by a fountain of sparks, which rose high in air, driven by a fan-like wave of flame; the fire curved over, and the sparks fell hissing into the sea.

As the flame rose, spreading wider and wider, there was a roar as of thunder, a rush as of the wind in a tempest struck Lauré, the boat rocked to and fro, shipping no small amount of water, and the wire twisted round the Cuban’s hand cut and bit into the flesh ere it snapped short off.

But he did not feel the pain, and saw not the danger to which he was exposed as he gazed straight beyond him at the doomed ship, and exulted in the wild shriek of horror that he had heard as the noise of the explosion died away.

He heard no more, for an awful silence fell upon the ocean, now blacker than ever, and rising up in the boat he held out one hand, shaking his fist in the direction where a faint glow told him of burning fragments of the wreck, and then with a shriek of exultation he cried —

“Sink, sink, with your accursed freight. Who wins now?”

He tottered as he spoke, and though straining his voice to hurl out his curse at the schooner and those on board, it was but a feeble cry, and he fell back senseless over the thwarts to lie in the bottom of the boat, with the water that had been shipped washing over him.

Story 1-Chapter XXXIX.

The Catastrophe

The occupants of the cabin had sat long that night, talking of poor John Studwick’s peaceful end, and then separated, feeling low-spirited and heavy, as if some fresh trouble were in store; but Bessy had said good-night to Meldon, with her hands resting lovingly in his, and she did not shrink away when he pressed his lips to her forehead.

It had been arranged that the remains of the dead should be committed to the deep next day, and at last all had retired, after the captain and Dutch had heard the doctor’s report of Lauré’s state, which caused them some uneasiness, for if he recovered they felt that much trouble was in store.

But there was not the faintest suspicion of danger: trusty men were at the look-out and helm, and it had been arranged that Dutch was to take turns with the doctor and captain to visit the deck during the night, the doctor having his patient to watch. Then there was Rasp, too, who would be on the move several times during the night, and all promised well.

And so the time wore on till Dutch, who had lain down in his clothes, rose and kissed his sleeping wife as she lay there peacefully dreaming. All was very still, and on reaching the deck he found the darkness intense, but, guided by the faint glow from the binnacle lantern, he went aft to where Lennie was softly crooning to himself some old ditty about “Coming back to Sairey in the good ship Jane.”

“Yes, sir, all right,” said the sailor; “the breeze keeps nice and steady, only it’s like sailing in a tar barrel, it’s so awful black.”

Dutch went forward and found Sam Oakum leaning with his elbows on the bulwark, matched by his companion on the other side of the bowsprit gazing straight out ahead.

“Right as nails, sir,” said the old sailor, “only I was a thinking, being a man as never used it, if this here sea looked as black in the sunshine as it do now, what a fortune a man might make in bottles o’ ink. You might go on filling ’em up, sir, for ever and ever, amen, and there’d be plenty left to sail the ships in all the same.”

“It is black, Sam,” said Dutch, “and I often wonder that you sailors are not afraid of being run down, or of running into some other vessels.”

“There’s plenty o’ room,” said Sam, “and as to being afraid, what’s the use? We’re too busy. ’Course there is a collision sometimes, but not often, thank goodness.”

“Keep a sharp look-out,” said Dutch, turning to go.

“Ay, ay, I’ll keep a sharp look-out,” said the old fellow. “Lord, it’s ticklish work, sailing with all this silver aboard, and I shall be glad when we’re safe in. How’s the prisoner, sir?”

“I’m going down to see,” replied Dutch; and going to the hatch, he descended, to find Rasp sleeping soundly, and the lamp burned down to a dim light, that did not show the state of the Cuban’s berth.

Dutch shook the old diver roughly, and he started up muttering, while, as the former turned up the lamp, he started with surprise.

“Where is – ”

The words had not left his lips when there was a tremendous concussion, a deafening roar, and the two men were thrown down, to struggle up again, with the air of the little cabin filled with a strange choking vapour, which nearly suffocated them before they had staggered up the steps to sink helplessly on the deck, now covered with burning fragments which kept showering down.

As Dutch fell, stunned and confused, on the fore part of the deck it seemed to him that he heard wild shrieks and cries for help from the direction of the stern cabins, but he was too helpless to comprehend what had taken place till he heard Oakum speaking to him and shaking his arm.

“Are you killed, Mr Dutch?” said the old fellow. “Oh, do say you ain’t.”

“I don’t think I’m hurt, Sam,” faltered Dutch, as he struggled to his feet. “I feel stunned, though,” and he clung to the old sailor to keep from falling backwards.

“Here’s poor old Rasp killed,” exclaimed Oakum, “and the ship sinking. Quick, to the boat.”

“You’re an obstinate old liar,” exclaimed Rasp, staggering to his feet. “I ain’t killed. Who’s been a-doing of this?”

“Here, quick, Oakum,” exclaimed Dutch, who, now that he could think, had his first thoughts for his wife and friends, “the ship must be going down. Help me to reach those astern.”

“There’s no getting to them, if they’re alive,” exclaimed Oakum; “the whole of the schooner’s blown out amidships.”

“Ahoy!” there came a voice from beyond the great black gulf in the centre of the schooner, which now began to blaze.

“Who’s that? Ahoy!” shouted Dutch. “Captain Studwick?”

“Right! Who’s with you there?”

“Oakum, Rasp, and one of the men,” cried Dutch. “Who’s with you?”

“I think all,” replied the captain, shouting across the gulf.

“Is my wife – Miss Studwick – safe?” faltered Dutch; and on receiving a reply in the affirmative, he muttered a prayer of thankfulness.

The question then arose – was the schooner sinking?

“I think not,” shouted the captain, for a disposition was shown to get out the boats. “If she was sinking, she would not begin to blaze like that down in the hold. It seems to me that the explosion struck upwards, and that she is sound below – for the present.”

And so it proved; for the dynamite had ripped up the deck and snapped off the mainmast as if it had been the stem of a flower, and it now lay alongside, with such of its ropes as were out of water blazing.

Not a moment was to be lost, and buckets being brought into requisition, the flames were attacked, for portions of the wreck below began now to blaze fiercely. One of the pumps, too, was set to work, and for long hours nothing was heard but the hissing of the flames as they were attacked by the water; but all that could be done was to keep them from increasing, and when at last the morning broke, it was to show two groups, one forward, the other astern, sullenly drawing buckets of water and dashing them into a hissing gulf of fire in the centre of the schooner, from which rose a column of black smoke to spread overhead and form a cloud like a funeral pall for the unlucky ship.

As the wind wafted the smoke on one side, Dutch waved his hand in token of encouragement to his wife, who stood with Bessy by the wheel, their task being to keep the ship’s head in one direction, so that the flames and heated vapour should not be driven astern. But all was done now in a hopeless duty-driven fashion, for those on board now realised the fact that it was only a matter of hours before the fire would eat its way through the side, and the work they tried so hard to do would be accomplished by the ship sinking beneath the waves.

“It’s of no use,” said Captain Studwick at last. “Dutch Pugh, Oakum, lower down that boat and come aft.”

This was done in a steady, deliberate manner, although at any moment a fresh explosion might have taken place, and the schooner gone down. And into the boat Oakum, Rasp, the sailor, and Dutch lowered themselves, paddled along the side, and joined their companions in misfortune aft.

As Oakum made fast the painter, and they all stood on the deck, Captain Studwick exclaimed:

“Where is Lauré? We must not leave him to perish.”

“Is he not with you?” said Dutch.