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, Laure 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
Laure 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."
"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 ashore yet, but spending your time over
this dreadful treasure-hunting, when the treasures ashore 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, passionate 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.
This soon passed off, though, and now, thoroughly roused, Dutch retraced
his steps, going with outstretched hands to the spot whence the voices
had seemed to proceed, to find all perfectly still.
"But she was here," he muttered moodily; and recalling his determination
to insist upon a full explanation, Dutch walked straight to the cabin
occupied by Bessy Studwick and his wife, and stood listening for a few
moments before he knocked.
He could hear voices behind him, where it was evident that the captain
and his friends were gathered, and upon listening more attentively he
learned what he wished to know, but was never in doubt about--namely,
the presence of Hester in the little cabin.
She was there, though, for he heard some one talking in a low tone, and
that there was a low sob.
He waited no longer but knocked.
There was no reply.
He knocked again, and there was a rustling sound within which made his
heart beat heavily, the blood rushed to his eyes, and a strange swimming
affected his brain, as the horrible suspicion crossed his mind that it
was not Bessy Studwick's voice he had heard, but the same that he had
listened to on deck.
Fighting against the dizzy sensation, and striving to become calm, he
raised his hands and stood in the attitude of one about to hurl himself
against the door and burst it from its fastenings; but something seemed
to restrain him, and he knocked again, and this time plainly enough, he
heard Hester's voice in an excited whisper say,--
"He is there! pray, pray, don't open the door."
It never occurred to Dutch that his wife could not know that it was he
who knocked, for the hard jealousy that he had taken to his heart
suggested and thought but evil of the woman he had sworn to love and
protect. It was not Bessy Studwick, then, who was with her, and they
dared not open the door. He had given up before, and sought no revenge;
this time he would have it if he died.
"Open this door," he said in a low deep whisper, full of the rage he
felt, for in his mad cunning he told himself that if he raised his voice
or broke in the door, he would alarm the occupants of the other cabin.
There was a dead silence for a few moments, and he was about to make a
fresh demand as his hands clenched, and the veins in his forehead stood
out throbbing from the excess of his wild emotion.
"Will you open this door?" he hissed again savagely, with his lips close
to the panel.
"No," exclaimed a firm voice. "Make the slightest attempt to enter
again, and I will alarm the ship."
Dutch Pugh's hands dropped to his side and a sigh like a groan burst
from his lips as he staggered away on deck, and going to the side rested
his aching head upon the rail.
"Am I mad?" he said to himself. "That was Bessy Studwick. Could it
have been her I heard talking here on deck? No, that was impossible,
for there was the struggle. Oh! Hester, Hester, my darling, forgive me
if I am judging you wrongfully; I'd give my life to believe you true,
and yet again to-night I am so ready to accuse you in my heart.
"It is no use, I will not lead this life of hell upon earth: she must--
she shall explain her conduct. There was some reason more than I know
for her coming on board here. Her conversations with that mulatto.
That meeting to-night. Ha! is it possible? Yes! I have it at last:
Studwick was right: Laure's influence still with us. Bah! I believe I
am half-mad," he said, with a contemptuous ejaculation. "I will see her
in the morning, and this trouble shall be cleared away."
As he spoke he went down to the cabin he shared with the doctor, feeling
lighter of heart for the resolution he had made, and telling himself
that half his trouble might have been saved had he spoken to his wife.
"She might even have come out of the trial unscathed," he said, with a
strong feeling of elation, and worn out mentally and bodily he threw
himself half dressed into his berth, after opening the little window,
for the heat was stifling.
"A good resolution at last," muttered Dutch as he laid his head upon his
pillow, and as he dropped off to sleep listening to the lapping of the
water against the schooner's side, the sound seemed to form itself into
a repetition of the words--"Too late, too late, too late," until he fell
into a heavy sleep.