CHAPTER XX

  Up and Down

  "All ready? Stand clear."

  With a deafening clatter the powerful little motor of the _Cormorant_sea-plane fired, and the aluminium propeller revolved until it mergedinto a dazzling circle of light.

  Slowly, but with increasing momentum, the compact air-craft began toskim along the placid surface of the lagoon, leaving a long andever-widening wake.

  It was the _Cormorant's_ first ascent since the trial flight at theworks. The sea-plane's tanks were but half full in order that thesingle seater might accommodate a passenger.

  Claverhouse, leather-helmeted and goggled, was at the joy-stick.Behind him on a somewhat precarious perch strapped to one of thestruts was Trevear, armed with a camera.

  Originally it had been Harborough's intention to equip the twosea-planes with a wireless-telephone outfit, but, furtherconsideration ended in the proposal's rejection on the grounds thatthe practical results would not justify the initial outlay. Theapplication of aerial photography would be of great service inlocating the sunken _Fusi Yama_, and the view thus obtained would beof a more or less permanent value. Reporting by wireless telephonewould have been satisfactory up to a certain point. There would nothave been the delay entailed in the use of photography with itsprocesses of developing and printing, but on the principle that thecamera cannot lie Harborough hoped for definite and importantresults.

  There had been keen competition on the part of the _Titania's_ crewto "go up", but Harborough reminded the applicants that they were notjoy-riding at a couple of guineas a flight, and proceeded to whittledown the aspirants for the part of aerial photographer, untilTrevear, the reserve pilot, was alone left in the running.

  Every available boat carried by the _Titania_ was pressed intoservice to act in conjunction with the seaplane. Fitted withmark-buoys and sinkers, the boats paddled across the lagoon ready tobuoy the wreck if luck enabled the airmen to spot it.

  Ascending in wide spirals, the _Cormorant_ rose to a height of twothousand feet. At that altitude the _Titania_ was dwarfed to the sizeof a dingy, while the boats looked no bigger than pea-pods. Thegreater part of the lagoon showed clearly through the water--apale-green unbroken expanse of sand fifteen to twenty fathoms beneaththe surface. Here and there were opaque ill-defined patches thatrequired careful investigation.

  For twenty minutes the flight continued, Claverhouse swinging the busto and fro in a succession of short turns, working methodically fromthe entrance of the lagoon to the part where it almost joined theisland itself, while Trevear, with binoculars glued to his eyes,carefully examined the floor of the broad sheet of tranquil water.

  Suddenly the observer ejaculated an exclamation of satisfaction andjogged the pilot on the shoulder.

  "Got it!" he yelled, and grasped his camera.

  "Good enough for a record," he soliloquised, and, drawing a Vereypistol from a rack, he proceeded to fire a green light.

  That was the signal for the boats to close. The motor-boat towing thewhaler and the gig approached the spot, the crews keeping a sharplook-out for the signal that was to indicate that they were overtheir unseen objective.

  It was a long task. With feelings of exasperation, Trevear watchedthe boats pass wide of the mark over and over again, only to berecalled and started on a fresh course by means of pre-arrangedsignals from the Verey pistol.

  "There must be a current running round that point," thought Trevear."Every time they appear to be swept away. Ah! That's better; they'vediscovered the same thing."

  He raised a pistol and waited while the boats approached the dark,ill-defined patch on the edge of which lay something offairly-symmetrical shape.

  "Good enough!" exclaimed the observer, letting fly with three redlights. "Bring her down, Alec!" he shouted.

  Claverhouse did so, vol-planing seawards in a steep, exhilaratingdive that proved that the master-hand of the ex-R.A.F. bomber had notlost its cunning. Striking the surface with a double bump, the_Cormorant_ taxied in the direction of the boats, from which themark-buoys had already been dropped. They were now bobbing sedatelyin an exaggerated curve over the site of the wreck.

  "Fifteen fathoms!" announced Harborough, as the sea-plane was takenin tow. "We're in luck, if that is the wreck. I bargained for twentyto twenty-five."

  "She's in a big patch of weeds," said Trevear, "and lying well overon her bilge."

  "Weeds generally mean mud," remarked Harborough. "Awkward stuff towork in. However, we're lucky to locate the wreck so quickly. By theold-fashioned method of creeping and grappling we might have takenweeks. Stand easy. We'll start diving-operations this afternoon."

  Accordingly, when the heat of the day showed signs of abating, thediving-party proceeded to the spot. Swaine, clad in his diving-dress,sat in the stern sheets nursing his copper helmet. As the outfit wasself-contained there was no necessity for the cumbersome air-pump andpipe. A wire-rope ladder and a shot-line and distance-rope comprisedall the gear necessary for lowering from the boat.

  During the week that had elapsed since Dick's adventure, JackVilliers had been undergoing a diving-course. Already he had madegood progress under the experienced Swaine's supervision, andalthough he had not yet reached a depth of fifteen fathoms he wasready, if need were, to descend to his comrade's assistance shouldanything go wrong.

  "You'll have to watch the current," observed Harborough, as the boatswung to her anchor. "Better to work against it than with it on a joblike this."

  "Right-o, sir!" replied Swaine, as his assistant prepared to completethe hermetically-sealing process by placing the copper helmet on hishead and screwing down the front and side plates.

  Encumbered with leaden-soled shoes, slabs of the same metal fixed tohis chest and back, and wearing his chemically-created air-reservoirand a diver's electric lamp, Swaine was helped over the gunwale.Awkwardly he descended the rope-ladder, till the water reached thelevel of his shoulders. Then, raising his bare hand in a gesture offarewell, he disappeared beneath the surface, leaving a trail ofair-bubbles to mark his descent.

  Swaine had declined to take the portable telephone with him on thepreliminary descent, objecting on the grounds that it would hamperhis movements. On the other hand, Harborough had strictly enjoinedhim not to attempt to enter the hull of the wreck, but to contenthimself with an examination of the hull and report upon its positionand condition.

  The moment the diver reached the bed of the lagoon all communicationwith him was cut off. All he could do was to advance as near aspossible in a straight line, paying out his distance-rope as heplodded through the ooze until he reached the wreck.

  The watchers in the boats could note the trail of air-bubbles asSwaine walked away from the shot-rope. The bubbles were the onlyindications of his presence and of the fact that the life-sustainingapparatus was still working.

  "He's progressing against the current," observed Bobby Beverley.

  "Perhaps it's only a surface-current," rejoined Harborough. "If so,so much the better. Sharks? No, I don't fancy they'll dare attack adiver. They'd be more frightened than the man. An octopus is anotherproposition. They are apt to be found in weed; but they don't grow toany very large size in these parts."

  "If that's the wreck, sir," said Claverhouse, who, having seen the_Cormorant_ safely moored, had rejoined the boats, "it would bebetter to get to her from the land, I think. She's within a hundredyards of the beach, and, although the water deepens pretty quickly, adiver ought to make his way up and down with very little trouble."

  "Good scheme, Claverhouse," replied Harborough approvingly. "We mighteven rig up a semi-permanent guide-rope, and later on an endless linefor getting the stuff ashore."

  "He's returning, sir," announced Villiers, pointing to the line ofbubbles.

  "That's splendid," exclaimed Harborough.

  He could hardly conceal his impatience, for there were moments whenthe generally-inscrutable features of the baronet did betray thestate of his mind, and this was one of them.

&n
bsp; The quivering of the rope-ladder under the influence of the currentgave place to a series of violent jerks. Swaine was ascending.

  "Trim the boat!" ordered Harborough, as the crew leant over thegunwale from which the rope-ladder hung.

  It was a necessary caution, for in their eagerness to witness thereturn of their comrade the men had put the gunwale dangerously lowdown.

  At length the great copper helmet, showing green in the clear water,came into view. Another twenty rungs and it appeared above thesurface.

  Waist deep, Swaine waited until the glass observation-discs in hishelmet were unscrewed. He was breathing heavily, and his red woollencap was damp with perspiration.

  "Well?" inquired Harborough. "Found it?"

  Swaine shook his head.

  "Found something," he replied, "but not the _Fusi Yama_."

  His gaze fell upon Claverhouse.

  "Say, Alec, dear old thing," he continued. "Weren't you the guy whobombed a P-boat, in mistake for a Fritz submarine?"

  "Yes," admitted Claverhouse; "but I missed her, thank Heaven."

  "Next time you go up you'd better take me to spot for you," resumedSwaine. "I guess I might be able to distinguish between the _FusiYama_ and a wooden two-decker. Fact, sir," he declared, replying toHarborough's unspoken question. "It's the wreck of a frigate orsomething of the sort. Couple of centuries old, I should imagine.She's lying hard over on her starboard side. Amidships she'spractically broken in two. Her foremast is still standing, but themain- and mizen-masts are half buried in the mud; water-logged andheld down by the weight of the metal-work, I suppose."

  "Didn't go on board?" asked Beverley.

  "Not much," replied Swaine emphatically. "Looked too jolly rotten tomy liking. I'd tackle it if I had a chum down with me."

  "However," broke in Harborough briskly, "since we are looking for the_Fusi Yama_, investigations on the wooden vessel can wait. When willyou feel equal to another ascent, Claverhouse: to-morrow morning?"

  Alec looked up and noted the position of the sun. Oblique rays wereof little use, but for the next hour operations might be possible.

  "I'll go up at once, sir," he replied.

 
Percy F. Westerman's Novels