CHAPTER XXVII
A Submarine Duel
It was not until the morning of the fifth day after the storm thatoperations upon the wreck of the _Fusi Yama_ were resumed.
Since it was found upon a second examination that the hull of themotor-boat was somewhat strained and required intricate repairsbefore it could be rendered seaworthy, the motor was taken out andinstalled on a strong platform supported by the gig and the whaler.It meant devoting two boats to a duty formerly performed by one, butthe motor was necessary, since it worked the dynamo that in turnprovided light for the divers to work by.
Villiers and Swaine gained the wreck by following the guide-rope fromthe beach. They found the rope buried deeply in the sand at places,while another result of the gale was the almost entire removal of thebed of mud on which the ship lay, its place being taken by a depositof sand and lumps of coral that had been detached from the reef underthe terrific force of the breakers.
More than once it required the united efforts of both men to lift therope clear of the sand that covered it, while in one spot anaccumulation of seaweed took a quarter of an hour's hard work beforethe tenacious tendrils could be cut and the rope exposed.
Upon gaining the deck Villiers could see that the damage done by thehurricane was considerable. Most of the deck-houses and the promenadedeck, which had stood the effect of four years' submergence withoutmuch sign of deterioration, had been swept away, while a vastquantity of sand had found its way below. This was sufficientevidence to prove that the hurricane had been the worst everexperienced at Nua Leha since the time when the _Fusi Yama_ had beenscuttled.
Outside the strong-room things were not so bad. There were tons ofsand, but most of it had shifted owing to the list of the wreck, andlay five or six feet high against the interior side of the ship.
Adjusting the powerful lamp, so that its rays showed directly intothe strong-room, Swaine beckoned to his companion to enter.
If Villiers expected to walk into a treasure-chamber glittering withgold, he was mistaken. The place was piled with wooden boxes, some ofwhich had been wrenched open, displaying their rather dull but heavycontents, but on the shelves, and secured from the motion of the shipby steel grids, were canvas sacks. A few of these, rotted by theaction of the salt water or else hurriedly ripped open when the Hunsmade a hasty examination of their booty, had shed a shower of goldcoins upon the boxes and on the floor. There were British andAustralian sovereigns, Japanese five-yen pieces, Chinese gold taels,and five-dollar pieces, representing almost every American republicon the Pacific coast, and mixed haphazardly.
With little delay the work of clearing the strong-room commenced. Newcanvas sacks, weighted with pieces of iron, were lowered from theboats above. Into these were poured the contents of the rotten sacks,then at a prearranged signal the men on the raft hoisted the preciousspecie to the surface.
It was a slow, laborious but at the same time pleasureable task.Movements that could be quickly executed in air were greatly retardedby the pressure of water, and by the time that the divers' air-supplywas showing signs of exhaustion only a quarter of the coin had beensalved.
For the next week the operations continued uninterruptedly. Villiersand Swaine each making two descents a day.
Compared with the task of recovering the bullion, the preliminarywork of clearing the specie was simple. The bullion, packed tightlyin iron-bound boxes, had to be extricated bar by bar, for asoriginally packed each case was too heavy, even under water, to bemanhandled.
There were delays, too, in transporting the recovered treasure to the_Titania_, owing to the lack of sufficient boats, so that, accordingto Villiers' estimate, three weeks would elapse before the preciousmetal would be stowed in the yacht's hold.
Dick Beverley was enjoying himself immensely. He worked quite as hardas anybody, and his one regret was that he had not been allowed todon a diving-dress and make a descent. This Harborough bluntlyrefused to allow.
"This is a salvage company, not a nursery for amateur divers," heremarked, although his refusal was based upon his compact with BobbyBeverley not to expose Dick to any unnecessary risk.
By common consent a substantial share of the treasure was to be givento Pete. The man had earned it fairly. As a cook he was painstakingand conscientious, and when not engaged in his duties in the galleyhe was always ready and willing to bear a hand at other work.
"What are you going to do with your little lot when we pay off,Pete?" asked Villiers.
Pete's features were almost hidden by a mouth that stretchedpractically from ear to ear as he gave a prodigious grin.
"Do, sah? Be coloured gen'lman at Barbadoes, Massa Villiers. Buytop-hole swagger hotel an' get dollars from Yankee visitors. P'r'apsI buy a sail-boat and take people round de islands. If any of yougen'lmen come to Barbadoes, be sure to look up Massa Pete Johnson. Heput you up free, gratis, and for nothin'."
"Then you're not sorry that Captain Abe booted you out of the _LucyM. Partington_?" asked Bobby.
"No, sah." Pete evidently did not wish to reopen an unpleasantincident, for he turned somewhat abruptly to O'Loghlin. "Say, Massa,"he asked anxiously, "you understan' motors. Will I be able to run aswagger car? One that licks creation for goin' tarnation quick?"
"If you handle the steering-wheel of a car as well as you do afrying-pan, you'll be a rattling good driver, Pete," repliedO'Loghlin, pushing aside his empty plate with a satisfied sigh.
The salvage operation continued without a hitch in glorious weatherand under ideal conditions. The divers' dread of sharks seemed tohave been a needless one, for the noise of the motors and theactivity of all hands had no doubt scared the tigers of the deep.
One day Villiers was at work below, when he noticed agaudily-coloured fish dart out from behind a box, and graze his hand.The fish was but a small one, less than six inches in length, but itsdorsal fins resembled trailing tendrils and its tail ended in twotapering points.
Hardly paying any attention to the creature, for fishes werecontinually swimming around the divers, Villiers began prising openthe metal-bound box. Before he had completed his task his arm wasthrobbing frightfully, and his hand seemed to lose the power ofgripping things.
He "stuck it" for another ten minutes, then signed to Swaine that hewas finishing work. Before he reached dry ground he felt on the pointof collapse, and when he did gain the beach he toppled inertly uponthe sand, to the astonishment and alarm of Vivian and Merridew, whowere standing by to assist the diving-party.
They divested him of his diving-suit. By this time his arm hadswollen tremendously, and the flesh was turning a dull-grey colour.
Harborough, hastily summoned ashore, diagnosed the symptoms as beingsimilar to those of snake-bite, There were a couple of minutepunctures on the back of Jack's hand, through which the poison hadbeen transmitted to his veins.
For the next twelve hours it was touch and go with Jack Villiers. Hiscomrades plied him with enough raw whisky to make a man in ordinaryhealth helplessly intoxicated. They walked him up and down withoutgiving him the slightest chance of rest. The treatment was drastic,but it was successful, and, although the arm remained swollen andpainful, the danger was past.
Much to his disgust, Villiers had to "stand down", and Swaine carriedon alone. That meant more delay, but it was unavoidable, and thingsmight have been worse. Further difficulties were met with through thetemporary breakdown of the submarine lighting arrangements, and untilthat was rectified Swaine was perforce obliged to relinquish hisvisits to the wreck.
"Look here, old man," said Jack, one morning as Swaine was preparingfor a descent. "I'm fit again. There is no reason why I shouldn't gowith you."
"Better wait till you've seen Harborough," objected Swaine. "Youmight jolly well think you're all right, but I shouldn't like theresponsibility of passing you fit for duty."
"Right-o," agreed Jack, who saw the force of his fellow-diver'sargument. "Don't wait. I'll push off afloat and see what Harboroughhas to say."
S
waine proceeded on the submarine work alone. Although glad ofVillier's company, he realized that the latter was far from being fitfor the strenuous toil demanded of a diver. He, Swaine, could dosufficient work below to keep the surface-party busy, and the task ofrecovering the treasure was now within measureable distance ofconclusion.
It was yet early. The morning mists had not entirely dispersed whenSwaine waded into the water, awkwardly at first, but with morefreedom as the leaden-weighted suit dipped beneath the surface.
Swaine wasted no time in getting on board the wreck and setting towork. He had now a fair amount of elbow-room, since most of themetal-lined boxes had been removed, and a thousand pounds worth ofgold was being sent up every five minutes.
He felt in fine fettle and, to use his own expression, "full ofbeans". So intent was he upon his task that the time slipped byrapidly, until a slight buzzing noise in his ears warned him that theself-contained air-reservoir was not far off a state of exhaustion.In fifteen minutes the supply would be "dud", and it usually took himtwenty minutes to reach the shore.
He "knocked off" in a hurry; at the same time, he realized that ifthings came to a pitch he could blow himself to the surface. This hewas loth to do, as the sudden ascent generally incapacitated a diverfor several hours.
Slipping over the side of the wreck and grasping the guide-rope,Swaine began to make his way ashore as rapidly as the resistance ofthe water permitted.
"Current's frightfully strong to-day," he soliloquized, as the rushof water almost swept his feet from under him. As it was, he had tohang on like grim death to the rope and haul himself along hand overhand until he had crossed the track of the submarine stream.
Here the lagoon shoaled considerably. There was sufficient depth toallow a pale-green light to penetrate to five or six fathoms ofwater, while visibility increased a distance of ten or twelve feet.
Happening to turn his head within the immobile helmet and to glancethrough the side plate-glass window, Swaine came to a sudden halt andgave a gasp of surprise. Within three yards of him, and flounderingalong on a slightly converging course, was a man in a self-containeddiver's suit.
"So Villiers has got into harness after all," he thought. "Wonder howhe came to lose touch with the direction-rope?"
He raised one hand in greeting, at the same time holding up the ropethat served as a guide between the wreck and the shore.
Then to his utter astonishment he discovered that it was not JackVilliers, nor indeed any of the _Titania's_ men, indulging in alittle submarine expedition. The diving-dress was different incertain details.
Swaine was not left long in doubt as to the stranger's intentions.Apparently the other diver was as surprised as he was, for he halted,swaying slightly in the comparatively feeble current. Then, slowlyfumbling, he drew out a knife that showed a pale, dull-greenish glintin the subdued light.
Courageous though he was, Swaine felt his heart beating violently. Hewas still undecided as to whether the stranger intended sticking thepoint of the steel into him or whether he meant to cut theguide-rope. In any case, Swaine realized that he would have to act onthe defensive.
Drawing his own knife, Swaine, holding on to the rope with his lefthand, planted his feet firmly and threw his weight slightly forward.Then he awaited developments. He was handicapped by the fact that hisair-supply was now noticeably weak. He might, with discretion,attempt to elude his antagonist, but he realized the disadvantage ofshowing his back to a man who might possess a greater degree ofmobility. Nor did he fancy a knife-thrust as he was in the act ofblowing himself to the surface.
No, the issue had to be decided there and then.
Holding his knife dagger-wise across his chest, the unknown assailantadvanced. Swaine stood on the defensive. He was in an awkwardpredicament, for the current that was helping his opponent wasagainst him.
The other feinted. It was a comparatively slow movement compared withthe lightning-like thrust of a practised fencer. The pressure of thewater was too great for rapidity of action.
Swaine was not prepared for what followed. His antagonist arrestedthe blow and at the same time hacked ponderously with his leaden-shodboot. The metal rasped on Swaine's bare knuckles grasping the rope,as he stepped backwards to avoid the full force of the blow. The nextinstant a cut with the keen blade of the other's knife severed theguide-rope.
The sudden release of the tautened rope sent Swaine staggering a goodthree yards. He found himself sprawling on the sandy bottom, hisefforts to regain his feet disturbing the sand to such an extent thatit was almost impossible to see anything beyond arm's length.
Not daring to transfer his knife from his right hand to his left,Swaine fumbled for the release-valve of the buoyancy-flask. Hisfingers, numbed with the glancing blow they had received, were almostuseless, and his head was swimming with the effect of the now impureair. Before he could attain his immediate aim he saw the distortedfigure of his antagonist through the now clearing water.
Still struggling to regain his feet, the while guarding himself withhis knife, Swaine realized that the odds were very much against him.He found himself vaguely wondering what the effect of a thrust wouldbe through the thick rubber and canvas fabric of his diving-suit. Allthe same, he meant to stick it, and, if needs be, "die game".
The other approached warily, but there was a suggestion of triumph inhis movements. He began circling round his prostrate opponent,seeking a favourable opportunity of closing. He hesitated, possiblybecause he feared a ruse on the part of the Englishman, who, withknife uplifted, kept turning so that he was always face to face withhis assailant. Obviously these wearing-out tactics were telling uponSwaine. The longer the other delayed, the worse became his stateowing to the poor quality of his air-supply.
At length the unknown diver raised his arm to deal a stroke. He didit dramatically, pausing with the blade held high above his head.
With senses dulled, Swaine steeled himself to meet the deadly stroke,but the stroke never came.
A rush, a swirl of water, and a blurred vision of the other diversinking slowly on his face told Swaine that deliverance had come froma totally unexpected quarter.
A huge shark, attracted by the glitter of the knife, had bitten offthe fellow's hand just above the wrist, at the same time tearing theindia-rubber cuff of his diving-dress and allowing a considerableamount of air to escape.
The shark, finding its palate unpleasantly tickled by the sharpsteel, and not laying claim to be a sword-swallower, decided that onemouthful was enough and made off for pastures new, leaving theinterrupted principals of the submarine duel to settle matters asbest they could.