Dutch the Diver Part 41

A man shut up in a diver's helmet and suit is not in a condition to feel much elation, but Dutch's heart beat rapidly as he resumed and stooped to gaze down at what he had found. There was no mistake, though. The hold of the wreck had been cleared from side to side, and there was evidently no more silver--in fact, as far as it was concerned, the treasure was won. He tried the iron probe to find sand or wood--sand or wood, forward or aft, while, of course, the possibility of anything being found to right or left was bounded by the old ribs which now stood out clear to the keel.

But here, aft of the silver treasure, and separated originally, no doubt, by a strong timber part.i.tion, one of the timbers of which Dutch had wrenched away, dull red and glistening, totally free from sh.e.l.ly concretion, but in places bound together by a fine sand, lay, as he cleared away the covering from the surface, and plainly marked out by the black wood that surrounded it on three sides, forming a great chest-like place about four feet by six, but whose sides, of black rotten timber, were ten inches thick, what was evidently of greater value than the ma.s.s of silver they had obtained.

For there before him lay neatly packed, as they had been by busy hands at least two hundred and fifty years before, hundreds upon hundreds of little rough ingots of gold. Not a bar was displaced, for the ma.s.sive framework in which they had been stowed, though rotten, had not given way like what had probably surrounded the silver, which lay tossed about at random.

"Wealth, wealth, rich gold," muttered Dutch, as he signalled for more air; and then, looking more closely at his find, he could see by sweeping away the sand that slowly trickled back, as if eager to cover the treasure it had held secret so long, that the gold had not been packed as he had supposed, but had evidently been in little wooden boxes, which had rotted quite away, the places of the wood being filled up by sand, which lay in rectangular lines.

"The silver has all been saved without doubt," said Dutch to himself as he gazed at his find, and thought of the delight with which the news would be received by his partner. Then he turned to get the bucket and fill it, wis.h.i.+ng himself on deck when it arrived there to watch the astonishment of those who emptied it.

As he moved he had again to signal for more air, and looking down he saw the sand slowly trickling back over the gold, so that in a very few moments it would have been covered.

He picked up the shovel, meaning to throw the sand in that part more effectually away, when once more the difficulty of breathing attacked him.

He signalled for more air, but no more came, neither to his next signal; and feeling that something must be wrong with the apparatus, he was already on his way to the steps, when he received a signal to come up; and on reaching the surface, with the air becoming each moment more deficient, he was quickly helped on board and relieved of his helmet.

"I couldn't help it, Mr Dutch," exclaimed Rasp, "the leather's giving way on the piston, and we must have a good repair."

"But it's held out just long enough," said Mr Parkley, "for Rasp tells me we've got to the end, and he only just left you a little of the silver to send up."

"Yea, Mr Pug, I tried all round, but there was nothing but wood and sand--wood and sand everywhere. 'Cept what you've sent up, I say there wasn't a bit more silver left."

"Why didn't you say so before I went down?" said Dutch.

"Because I wanted to hear what you thought, and let you judge for yourself," growled Rasp, handling a screw-hammer.

As they spoke, the men who had been pumping and hauling gathered round, evidently eager to hear what was said, and this made Dutch alter the words he was about to utter.

"Rasp is right," he said, "I have sent up the last of the silver."

"And have you tried well round with the rod?"

"Everywhere," said Dutch, "and touched the s.h.i.+p's timbers right down into the sand. There isn't another bar of silver, I should say."

"Well," said Mr Parkley, "man's never satisfied. I was quite ready to get more. There, my lads, we'll clean up our apparatus."

"Yes," said the captain, "and clear the decks; they want it badly enough. You've worked well, my lads, and you shall have a bit of a feast for this. 'Pollo shall prepare you a supper, and we'll drink success to our next venture."

The men gave a bit of a cheer, but on the whole they looked rather disappointed, and Dutch, he hardly knew why, held his peace about the gold. One thing was evident: nothing could be done to get it on deck till the worn valve of the air-pump had been repaired, and this Rasp declared would take him all the afternoon, for he would have to apply new leathers and india-rubber.

So the diving suits were hung up to dry, the helmets, polished dry and clean, and placed upon their stands. Mr Parkley and the doctor, who had looked upon this part as more in his province--Mr Parkley said because it helped to destroy life--had coiled up the wires, emptied the battery, and placed the dynamite in safety, and the rough sh.e.l.ly matter was thrown over the side, while Dutch, who had still kept his discovery to himself, was down below close to the end of the wind-sail--that canvas funnel that took down a constant current of fresh air--smoking a cigar with Mr Wilson, the naturalist, who was chatting away about his birds, and his determination to have another run or two on sh.o.r.e to shoot, asking his companion to accompany him.

"It would do the ladies so much good, too, I'm sure," said Mr Wilson; "and really, Mr Pugh, I never dare speak to Miss Studwick now," he added with a sigh, "for if I do, her brother looks daggers at me, and if I mention Mrs Pugh, you look just as cross."

Dutch had been saying "Yes" and "No" in amusing manner, hardly hearing what his companion said, but the mention of his wife's name made him start angrily round and glare at the speaker.

"There, that's just how Mr Studwick, junior, looks at me," said the naturalist simply. "A regular jealous, fierce look. I wish you would not treat me so, Mr Pugh," he continued earnestly, and with a pleading look in his weak, lamblike face, "for I like you, I do, indeed. I always have liked you, Mr Pugh, and how you can fancy I have dishonourable ideas about Mrs Pugh I can't think. It shocks me, Mr Pugh, it does, indeed."

"My dear fellow," said Dutch, smiling, half in amus.e.m.e.nt, half in contempt, "I never did think any such thing."

"Then why do you look at me so?" continued Wilson, mildly. "You see,"

he said, with gathering enthusiasm, "I love Miss Studwick very dearly, but I seem to have no hope whatever. But why are you so angry?"

"There, there, there, don't talk about it," said Dutch, shaking the naturalist's hand. "These are matters one don't like to talk about."

"Yes, yes, of course," said Wilson, looking at him wistfully. "But you won't mention what I said."

"As to your love confidences," said Dutch smiling, "they are safe with me; but look here, Wilson, you are better as you are--better as you are."

"You think so, perhaps," said the young man; "but I do not. You are angry with Mrs Pugh for something: that is all. She is very pretty, but perhaps she is a little imprudent," he added simply.

"What do you mean?" exclaimed Dutch angrily.

"Don't be cross with me, Mr Pugh. Perhaps I am wrong."

"Speak! What do you mean?" exclaimed Dutch, panting.

"I only thought she ought to be more particular, perhaps, as a lady, and not speak to the dark mulatto sailor."

"Have--have you seen her speaking to--to that man?" said Dutch, with his breath coming thick and short.

"Yes, I did last night," said Wilson; "but I did not mention it to anyone else, and of course she was only doing it out of kindness, for she is very amiable."

"When--when was it?" panted Dutch, whose face flushed with shame and anger that he should be stooping to ask such questions.

"Just after dark, when you diving people were having your meal below.

They parted, though, directly."

"Thanks; say no more about this," said Dutch, more calmly. "Perhaps it looks a little imprudent, but, as you say, she is so amiable and kind to the men that her actions are easily misconstrued."

Dutch rose to go on deck, for the air in the cabin seemed to stifle him, but Wilson arrested his steps.

"But you will come if we have a shooting expedition, Mr Pugh?" he exclaimed. "You have not been ash.o.r.e yet, but spending your time over this dreadful treasure-hunting, when the treasures ash.o.r.e are a thousand times more beautiful."

"I will see--perhaps--I cannot say," replied Dutch; and he stumbled on deck to stand watching Rasp, who was busy over the air-pump, which he had taken all to pieces, but as it was close upon dusk he was collecting the various screws and placing them loosely in their proper holes before covering all over with a tarpaulin to keep off the heavy night dew that hung in drops each morning from every rail.

The words of Wilson, the simple-hearted naturalist, had so troubled Dutch that his mind was once more in a whirl. Till then he had been gradually getting into a calm, resigned state, and accepting the inevitable; but now to hear such remarks as these about his wife's conduct was simply maddening him, and as he went and leaned over the side, gazing down into the pure water where the golden treasure lay, it was forgotten mostly in the trouble of his heart, and he made up his mind that he would see Hester and demand some full explanation of her conduct, and so end this terrible suspense.

"I will know," he muttered; and as he rose he felt surprised at the lapse of time, for the short tropic twilight had given place to intense darkness while he had been brooding over his troubles, and now it occurred to him that he had not told Mr Parkley about the gold.

"I'll see him now," he said; and he was turning to go to the cabin stairs when the low musical voice of his wife fell upon his ear, and though the darkness was so great that he could not see her he was aware that she was close at hand in conversation with some one whose voice seemed familiar.

He could not make out a word, but it was evident that whoever was speaking to Hester was addressing her in a low, pa.s.sionate tone, while her replies were almost inaudible.

Who was it? Not the mulatto: his peculiar, harsh, grating voice was too familiar. This was the voice of some one who made his nerves thrill with rage and indescribable emotion; and yet in his confusion and excitement he could not make out who it could be.

"I cannot play the spy like this," said Dutch to himself, and, raging as he was with curiosity and mortification, he walked away; but his agony was unbearable, and, turning back, he approached the spot once more, to hear a half-stifled cry for help; then there was the noise of a slight struggle, and he darted forward to strike himself against the foremast and stagger back half-stunned, and lean against the side to collect his scattered thoughts.

For his forehead had come violently into collision with the mast, and for a few minutes memory forsook her seat, and a strange sense of sickness accompanied the oblivion.