CHAPTER XV
MART GOES DOWN
"But, Mart!" Poor Bob's voice rang out in terror-stricken accents."Jerry'll be drowned before you can reach him!"
"Shut up!" crackled out Mart, snapping his wrist-bands close. "He won'teither. When the air hose is cut, that helmet valve closesautomatically. Jerry's down there, an' he can't get up, that's all.Hurry up with that hose!"
Bob fell to work again, his fingers trembling. Mart got into the bigshoes and laced over the flaps, for he knew that every second counted,but at the same time he must overlook no slightest item in his dress.
Never had his mind worked so swiftly as now, when the danger call came.It had occurred to him to drop over a weighted line, but he knew thatJerry might be unable to see it, and they were not sure of thequartermaster's exact position. In the same brain-flash he realized thatJerry would have some minutes of life, due to the air contained in hisinflated dress; there was time for him to get down with a spare line andget Jerry up, if he acted promptly. So he had acted.
He had pictured in his mind the scene below, with that three-foot krissticking out from the side of the wreck. The instant those bubblesappeared, he knew there was danger; and the instant he hauled up theclean-severed ends, he guessed that the line and hose had brushedagainst the keen kris and had been parted. Bob's startled cry hadappalled him for an instant, but they had seen no shadow in the greendepths, and he leaped at the true solution without hesitation.
"Get that helmet screwed on, now," he snapped, seeing that Bob hadconnected the air hose. "You keep your nerve, old scout! Everythingdepends on you, up at this end, so don't get flustered. Chase up and geta coil o' rope. I'll send Jerry up to you first. Haul him up slow,remember."
Bob, who had recovered his nerve under Mart's apparent calm, dashed upthe ladder and was down again with a coil of light line. The helmet wasscrewed down tightly, and Mart pressed his chum's hand warmly. Then,taking one end of the spare line and knotting it around his waist besidehis own life line, he drew his sheath knife in case of emergency andstood waiting for his dress to inflate.
He had concealed his own fear behind his frantic haste, and now he didnot hesitate to admit to himself that he _was_ afraid--and very muchafraid, too. Oddly enough, the thought of the Pirate Shark did not causehim any great concern. While all during the voyage he had looked forwardto diving, now that he was about to step off into that forty feet ofwater he would have given anything in the world to be able to stay upabove.
But the thought of Jerry drove him steadily to the task. Picturing theold man down in the depths, hoping agonizingly for some shred of helpfrom the two boys to whose hands he had trusted himself, Mart resolutelyset himself to conquering his fears. The life of a man depended on hiskeeping up courage and on his remaining cool-headed. When he felt thathis dress was full of air, he looked at Bob through the thick glass ofthe side-plates in his helmet, then sat down and resolutely loweredhimself over the edge.
He very nearly overbalanced in doing so, for, in order to counterpoisethe forward weight of the big helmet, the weight on the diver's back isfive pounds heavier than that in front. The instant his legs were in thewater, however, the terrible weight of the leaded boots was gone.
A final glance at his chum showed him that Bob, now steadied down todesperate work, was turning the big wheel with one hand and holding thelifeline in the other, ready to pay it out. At that, Mart gathered upall his courage, sidled off the landing, and let himself drop.
For an instant the sensation was terrible, as he saw the green waterclosing over him, and the sunlight dimming overhead. Then an almostimperceptible jerk, and he knew that Bob had stayed his fall downward,and was lowering him more gradually. He had no fears as to Bob'scapability, and after that first instant he slowly collected himself tothe task in hand.
He forced himself to look downward, for now he found that the water wasgrowing darker about him, and he could feel it rushing past his barehands. The touch, strangely, gave him courage; the water was very warmhere in the lagoon, and it was something tangible, something that offsetthe cold dread of the green dimness rising up at him.
Suddenly he felt a determined tug at the lifeline about his waist, andas this was the usual code query as to how he was, he gave Bob aresponding tug. He was getting deeper now. Without the slightestwarning, he found that he was beginning to see things around him.
A fish darted past, almost flicking its tail against his front glass.Then a long streamer of seaweed rose at his right, frightening him atfirst in the belief that it was a snake. And with that, marine life wasall around him, there came a shock--and he knew that he had reached thebottom, eight fathoms down!
Beyond a slight ringing in his ears, he felt no unwonted sensations. Allabout him was marine life--shells and slime and solid coral underneathhis feet, with queer things that seemed to slide away from his presence.There was a little seaweed, but not much; sponges, sea fans, and severaltiny writhing octopi that shot away and vanished in the obscurity. Hecould distinctly hear the strokes of the pumps, regular and steady.
"Good old Holly!" he thought. "But--this ain't getting Jerry."
He realized that as there was no wreck in sight in front or to thesides, and as the landing-stage of the _Seamew_ had been directly overit, he must be facing away from the wreck. So far, he had not moved.Now, as he tried to turn about, he found himself bounding up severalfeet, and laughed to himself as he remembered Jerry's lessons.
But he had turned about--and the scene before him made him start back inawe and amazement. Hardly ten feet away from him was the wreck--a greatdim shape with streaming sea growth and barnacles that rose more like ahuge rock than anything else. A trifle above the level of his headflamed out a little silver line of light--it was the kris, protrudinghandle outward from the barnacled wood. But where was Jerry?
Then he saw, and moved forward with a terrible fear lest he had been tooslow. The kris was stuck in the wreck at a corner, where the huge masshad split apart and had made a V-shaped opening. Just inside this laythe motionless form of Jerry, who must have become insensible from lackof air. Beyond a doubt he had penetrated into the opening, and as he didso his hose and line had caught on the kris and parted. The very weaponhe had counted on for safety had betrayed him!
As he moved forward, Mart took precautions against the same danger, bypulling out the kris and sticking it into the wood again farther ahead.Then, with that strange lightness that divers feel, he leaped forward,clutching at his spare line. Swiftly drawing his knife across it, for hehad no time now to untie knots, he caught the end under Jerry'sshoulders and knotted it. Looking down into the glass of Jerry's helmet,he could make out that the old man's eyes were closed, while his mouthwas open and was feebly gasping for air.
"By golly, I just got here in time!" thought Mart with a quick breath ofrelief. "He'll have to go up first, I guess. Bob can't haul us both."
With that, he separated the spare line from his own, and tugged it fourtimes. Bob must have been in desperate fear, for he never paused toreply, but the form of Jerry rose almost at once.
Mart could still hear the pump-strokes going, however, and the air hebreathed was fresh and pure. He thought of Bob, pumping with one handand hauling up with the other, and at the same instant he thought of thefour mutineers ashore. What if they had seen the whole affair and wereto come out in their boat and recapture the ship?
At the very thought he felt the perspiration stand out as he gazed dullyat the swaying figure of Jerry which was slowly vanishing above him.However, there was no use speculating, he considered. Little by littlethe form of Jerry merged into the flickering lights and shadowsoverhead; staring up, he could perceive the darker shade of the yachtdirectly above him.
"Well, I might's well take a look at the treasure!" he thought suddenly,and with that turned to the wreck. Cautiously making his way into theV-shaped opening where the rotted ship had fallen apart, he perceivedthat her outlines were gradually taking shape to his eyes.
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p; She was lying directly on her side, the decks rising straight up fromthe rock bottom. Ahead and behind him there were projections from herdecks, no doubt the forecastle and high poop of other days. She seemedto be split well asunder, for the opening was a good five feet across,and without hesitation Mart advanced into it.
As he did so, he paused, in wild apprehension. The pump-strokes hadceased! Then he grinned, with a sigh of relief; of course Bob would havehad to quit work in order to get the body of Jerry over the landing, andunscrew his helmet so that air might reach him. When the pump-strokesbegan again, he could go up.
Mart glanced around curiously. The hold of the ancient ship was dark,and he could see nothing, for the light down here was dim, rendering allthings distorted and indistinct; this his thick glass-plates did nottend to help, but a moment later he became aware of something like a boxthat protruded on his right, and remembered what Jerry had said about achest of treasure being in sight.
He had sheathed his knife while sending the quartermaster up, and now hedrew it and shoved the blade against the box. It seemed of great weight,for even in the water it did not move under the shock. Then he kicked itwith his heavy boot, and saw it shake and shatter. The wood must bepretty rotten, he reflected, and with that he kicked it again.
"Well, I'll be switched!" he gasped, starting back. Not only had the boxgone to pieces, but pouring out from its shattered corner came a streamof gold coins! That they were gold he did not doubt for a moment; evenin the semi-darkness they gleamed and shone ruddy yellow, pouring outand out until they covered even the high soles of his diving boots.
"Thunder! I've struck it!"
For a moment he stared down, unable to move. Then he felt a little waveof pure air sweep around his face and heard the pumps begin to clickagain up above; until then he had not realized that his air was becomingvitiated. But he paid no attention to anything but the stream of yellowcoins that were settling down over his feet, and neglected the fact thatnow he could ascend.
Gold! With the word ringing through his brain Mart leaned overcautiously, so as not to lose his balance, and stirred the heap of coinswith his fingers. He wanted to take some of them up, but had no pockets.Going to his knees, he began to stuff the coins wildly under his belt,under the broad straps of his shoes, even forcing some beneath theweights of his chest.
While he was doing this, he suddenly felt tug after tug on hisline--frenzied pulls that woke him from his gold-fever instantly. Whatwas wrong? He answered with one "all right" signal, but still the tugscontinued, at both lifeline and air line. Concluding that he had bestascend, in any case, he cautiously emerged from the opening until heonce more stood outside the wreck.
He put out his hand toward the kris, meaning to take it up with him;then his heart seemed to stop beating and he stood frozen with horror.What was that dim, vague shape sweeping past, up above?
Mart stood gazing upward, unable to move as the realization of histerrible position flashed on his mind. The long, tapering shadow toldits message only too clearly. The Pirate Shark had returned--and he wastrapped! Now he understood the meaning of those frantic tugs. Bob hadseen the shadow and had tried to warn him. Too late!
With a groan of agony, Mart drew back into the opening. He rememberedwhat old Jerry had said--that so long as a man had his back tosomething, kept on his feet, and had a weapon, he was all right.Therefore, he must not try to go up, for then the shark could grab himwith ease.
Cold sweat stood out on his forehead. What was it Jerry and the othershad said about the Pirate Shark always nipping the air hose first? PoorMart trembled as he still stared up, in hope that the shark might haveflitted past and would not return. Again came Bob's frantic tugs, and ona sudden Mart felt calmness flood into his brain, and he reached for hisair hose.
"By golly, I've got a fighting chance and that's all!" he muttered, thenhis lips clenched.
He pulled the air hose twice, then twice again, with the signal for moreair. He repeated it, for he knew now what he must do. To attempt goingup was impossible; the shark would cut his line, and then come down tofinish him. Therefore he must get all the air possible--
"Ah!"
A little click behind his ear, and the noise of pumps stopped. A flickerof the dim gray shape above, then it became larger, more firm ofoutline. Down through the water curled the air hose and lifeline, bittenthrough, and Mart had a vision of the tremendous fish as it flitted pastoverhead, turning in a great curve. The sight was paralyzing. Then Martgripped the kris, tore it from the barnacled wood, and whipped around tomeet his enemy. He had no way of getting up to the surface, hisair-supply was limited--but he would not give up without a struggle.