Dutch the Diver: or, A Man's Mistake

A receptacle had been prepared for the treasure in the hold, and the way to this was down the cabin stairs, strong bulkheads cutting this off from the other portions of the vessel; and down here continuously, after the shelly concretions, where they existed, had been knocked off, was carried bucket after bucket of ingots, which Mr Jones and Oakum stacked as regularly as they would lie, while the captain superintended and kept watch on deck.

The men worked admirably: their wonder at the richness of the find passing away as the silver became common to their sight, for it was shot out of the buckets on to the deck, hammered even, and thrown about as if it was so much stone.

There were two or three alarms of sharks, but an occasional cartridge fired under water at a distance from the ship had the desired effect of scaring the monsters away.

Rasp worked even harder than Dutch, giving as his reason that they ought to make hay while the sun shone; and certainly he made a goodly addition to the silver stack, while Mr Parkley was not far behind his partner. The doctor, Mr Wilson, and even John Studwick helped, by cleaning the ingots as they were raised by the sailors in the buckets, and emptied out on deck, while Bessy Studwick, Hester, and ’Pollo aided by being always ready with refreshments as they were needed, and besides kept a lookout.

For it was determined to make the best use they could of the daylight, and consequently their meals were snatched in the little intervals of work. Even the men forbore to grumble at being kept without their regular food, for there was a novelty in their task.

The sand caused a great deal of trouble to the divers, but this was steadily mastered, and when at sunset the task was set aside for the night, and, wearied out, the adventurers sat down to the repast ’Pollo had prepared and the steward set out, the question was asked in a whisper, what was the value of the treasure recovered. Mr Parkley, who had been below, could only say —

“Many thousands.”

Story 1-Chapter XXVI.

A Good Resolution

The next day and the next and the next passed rapidly in the same toil; and work, rest, and refreshment were all that were thought of. Even Dutch had been seized now by the thirst for wealth, and, hardly looking at Hester, he toiled on at his task, while she, pale and rigid, kept watch over him, never once gaining confidence as she saw his many descents, but always tortured by the horror of that first day.

To her great relief, though, Lauré had hardly noticed her, and there seemed to be an unspoken truce existing between them. She could see that he was one of the most industrious of the workers, and she shuddered as she felt why this was, and knew that some terrible catastrophe might ere now have taken place on the schooner, only that Lauré wanted the divers to do their work to the full before he asserted himself.

And yet she dared not speak, feeling that to utter a warning would be to sign her husband’s death-warrant, while he, giving no heed to, perhaps not crediting, her sufferings, passed her by at times without a look.

But a change was rapidly approaching, and it took place so suddenly as almost to surprise Hester herself.

The only thing that had disturbed the harmony of the past week had been the bitter opposition of John Studwick to the advances made by the young doctor. So far from the presence of a medical man on board being of advantage to the invalid, it had served to irritate and annoy him, and more than once he had angrily turned his back and drawn his sister away with the petty jealousy of a child more than a man, all which the doctor had taken in quite good part, while Bessy had more than one hearty cry to herself, as she called it.

Hester and she were like sisters now, and in consequence a coolness existed towards Dutch, who saw nothing, however, but, miser-like, gloated over the enormous wealth he was helping to pile up for himself and partner.

It was on the ninth day of the diving that, all elate, and congratulating themselves on the calm and delightful weather that had attended their efforts, the task began once more. The sand had been well mastered, and great half-rotten, water-hardened pieces of timber had been removed, and the silver was sent up, from the ease with which it was obtained, at a greater rate than ever.

Dutch had been down five times, and he was now down for the sixth, having succeeded Mr Parkley, and wading to the hole that had been made, after filling the bucket with some difficulty, the silver having now become scarce, he took his bar and tried to remove a piece of blackened wood that showed plainly in the mid-day sun.

It seemed quite fast, but a good wrench moved it, and, lifting it with ease, Dutch carried it a few paces and thrust it between two of the ribs behind him.

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 partition, one of the timbers of which Dutch had wrenched away, dull red and glistening, totally free from shelly 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 mass 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 massive 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, wishing 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 ship’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 shelly 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 shore 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 amusement, 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.”