It was in 1891 that the steamship _Skyro_ pulled out of the port of
Cartagena, in southern Spain, and set her course for London. The coast
of Spain glided by as she proceeded through the blue seas of the
Mediterranean, speaking Gibraltar as she passed, and setting her nose
north to skirt the coast of Portugal. Oporto dropped far astern, and
the Portuguese coast changed to the western coast of Spain as a fog
quietly stole down and blanketed everything. The fog was dense. Not
a thing could be seen, and the warning notes of the _Skyro’s_ siren
blared monotonously as she felt her way blindly along. The captain and
officers stared anxiously ahead, hoping that the fog would lift; but
there was no sign of a break around them, nothing but fog and the sound
of their siren to warn passing ships.
Of a sudden the ship staggered and halted. It was as though a giant
hand had reached up from the depths of the sea and grasped her keel.
The crew were thrown higgledy-piggledy. There was an awful rending
sound as the _Skyro_ swung onward. She had struck the dreaded Mexiddo
reef off Cape Finisterre, and as she slid over the cruel rocks they
literally tore the bottom out of her. Slowly she carried on, while that
rending sound continued, and twenty minutes after striking she slipped
off the reef and plunged to the bottom.
A few hours later the bell of the _Lutine_ in the Royal Exchange was
clanging loudly. The underwriters paused in their work. All voices were
stilled, and the scarlet-coated crier, mounting his rostrum, announced
in stentorian voice that the steamship _Skyro_ had struck the Mexiddo
reef off Cape Finisterre and was a total loss.
Then the bustle of business began again, but a little knot of
underwriters gathered together and started to talk quietly. They were
interested in the silver bars that the _Skyro_ carried.
“What about salvage?” one inquired.
Another, who joined the group, shook his head.
“Hopeless. She’s down in 25 fathoms, or more.”
“You never know,” said one man who was more intimately concerned.
He was quite right. You never know. Men manage sometimes to achieve the
impossible.
Fuller information made the salvage seem more remote than ever, for
instead of being down in 25 fathoms, as had been supposed, she was
several fathoms deeper, and her keel, resting on the bottom, must have
been well over 30 fathoms from the surface. Nothing had ever been
salved from such a depth before, and it seemed unlikely that any man
could go to this depth and survive the enormous pressure.
However, an expedition went out and fought to get at the treasure, but
the depth was too great, and at last the salvors withdrew from the
spot. Four years passed and there came to the underwriters another
offer to attempt to salve the silver. The salvage vessel anchored off
the fringe of the reef that had stripped the bottom out of the _Skyro_,
and the diver slid down the shot-rope to try to find out how the wreck
was lying and if possible to bring out the precious bars. Before he
could do anything of importance, however, bad weather set in and drove
the salvors back to harbour. But the lesson learned from that attempt
was that, if the treasure were to be recovered, more powerful diving
gear would have to be used.
The winter months were spent in obtaining much more powerful gear from
England, and the following season, directly the fine weather set in,
the treasure-hunters repaired to the Mexiddo reef to try once more to
achieve the impossible. The diver feared nothing. Brave as a lion, he
took the shot-rope in his hands and slid straight down to the deck
of the _Skyro_, which was 171 feet below the surface. Carefully and
quietly he surveyed the ship, seeking the cabin in which the silver
was stored. The deck had collapsed on top of it, and the only way of
getting to the treasure was through the deck.
Angel Erostarbe, the diver, came to the surface and reported what he
had seen. Difficult as was the task, it seemed to him by no means
impossible. So he dropped down the shot-rope again and again. Gradually
and with infinite patience he blasted away the deck, fixing his charges
and withdrawing while they exploded.
So exposed was the wreck that at times he could hardly keep his feet.
Time after time dirty weather came and prevented him from working at
all. The difficulties left him unmoved. He set his teeth and stuck to
his task. He was working at a record depth, a depth which most experts
considered was beyond the reach of a diver at all. The diver did not
worry about this. All he thought about was getting at the treasure.
To attain his end he practically blew the ship to pieces, and his
marvellous feats of endurance were crowned by the recovery, in
two seasons, of fifty-nine bars of silver worth £10,000. It was a
stupendous feat which has never been equalled since. At times he was
actually working in 183 feet of water, so it will be seen that he was
an exceptional man. Toiling at this depth--where his body was subjected
to the huge pressure of about 95 lb. to the square inch--left its mark
on him, and he was never the same man again. His share of the treasure
amounted to £500.
Compared with this, the recovery of the treasure from the _Oceana_,
when she was sunk in the Channel in 1912 as the result of a collision,
was a comparatively simple matter, yet it was not without its
difficulties. The _Oceana_ went down in 90 feet of water and only her
masts peeped above the surface when the salvors arrived on the spot.
Plans of the ship were obtained from the owners and carefully studied
so that once the divers got aboard they would know exactly which way to
go.
It is difficult enough for the average man to find his way about a
strange liner when she is afloat, so it can be imagined how difficult
it must be for a diver to wander about such a vessel when she is 90
feet under water. All the time he is adventuring through the saloons
and other compartments, he is running continual danger of his air-pipe
catching on something and tying him up. He may lose himself. Doors
may slam to with the current and imprison him while cutting off his
air supply. The men manning the air-pumps will quickly find out that
something is wrong, but by the time assistance is sent the imprisoned
diver may easily be in a sorry state.
The ordinary difficulties were intensified in the case of the _Oceana_
by the strong currents racing down the Channel. So strong were they
that even in favourable weather it was only possible for the divers
to work for one hour a day when the tide was at its lowest. To make
matters worse, there was so much sand in suspension that the divers
could see nothing at all. The electric lamps which it was hoped would
help them were quite useless. The divers were like blind men, groping
in the dark, feeling their way about the ship and working by touch
alone.
They blasted their way through two decks and, stumbling along a
passage, found the strong room. Ingot by ingot, they took out the
treasure and sent it to the surface, where each bar was carefully
checked and marked off in the records as it was recovered. If only all
the treasure had been carried in the strong room, the game of blind
man’s buff on the part of the divers would have been at an end. But a
good deal of the silver was stowed in the after hold, and before the
divers could get at it they had to force their way through three decks.
Ultimately all the treasure, to the value of £700,000, that went down
in the _Oceana_ was recovered and the treasure-hunters sailed away in
triumph with their spoil.
[Illustration: THE WRECK OF THE OCEANA WHICH SANK IN THE ENGLISH
CHANNEL AS THE RESULT OF A COLLISION. SHE HAD TREASURE ABOARD WORTH
£700,000]
The astonishing feat of Erostarbe was almost equalled by Alexander
Lambert, one of the finest submarine workers who ever lived and the
chief diver of Siebe, Gorman & Company. He covered himself with glory
during the building of the Severn tunnel when, owing to an error, a
door was left open and the workings were flooded. The water rose some
forty feet up the shaft leading to the workings, and it was impossible
to continue building the tunnel until this door was closed.
[Illustration: DIVERS GOING DOWN AFTER THE TREASURE OF THE OCEANA. NOTE
THE DOUBLE-HANDED AIR PUMP WHICH THE TWO ATTENDANTS ARE WORKING]
Realizing that the only thing to be done was to send down a diver to
close the door, the engineers called on Lambert to essay the task.
Descending the ladder of the shaft, Lambert disappeared under water
and made his way to the bottom, where not a single ray of light could
penetrate. Feeling round the wall of the shaft, he found the opening to
the tunnel, and began slowly to venture along. But the rush of water
had worked tremendous havoc, and the tunnel was strewn with debris
which was most difficult to negotiate. At any moment Lambert’s air-pipe
was in danger of being cut by some projecting piece of the wreckage,
and, in addition to the weight of his dress, he was terribly hampered
by the weight of the 1200 feet of air-pipe which he was forced to drag
along after him as he stumbled about the workings.
Hearing of Lambert’s baffling problems, Fluess, the inventor of the
diving dress which dispensed with the air-pipe, volunteered to go down
in his self-contained dress and see what he could do. Fluess was a
clever inventor, but the only diving he had ever done was in connection
with his experiments on his new type of dress. Besides being a clever
inventor, he proved himself a man of courage.
He arrived on the spot with his diving dress, and studied the plans of
the workings to find out which way he had to turn when he got to the
bottom of the shaft. He thought it would then be just a question of
walking through the tunnel, finding the door and closing it, little
knowing that the place was in a deplorable condition and beset with all
sorts of obstacles.
“Lambert had better go down first to take off my life-line and tell
me which way to go. He knows the place a bit by now,” the inventor
suggested.
Accordingly Lambert went down and waited 40 feet under water in the
inky blackness for the inventor. Fluess made his way down the ladder
in the centre of the shaft, taking a firm hold of the rungs with his
hands and feeling for the next one with his foot. As it happened, the
ladder was short of the bottom by some 10 feet, and they had forgotten
to inform him of this fact. Fluess, coming to the end, felt as usual
for the next rung. It was not there, so he lowered himself one rung by
his hands, expecting to touch the bottom with his feet. His feet merely
churned in the dank water, so he went down rung by rung until he was
clinging to the last rung with his hands. After vainly feeling with his
feet for the bottom, he let go his hold and dropped about 6 feet.
Some boards creaked and tipped ominously under him as he landed, then
he felt his way round until he came to Lambert. The diver took off the
inventor’s life-line, and Fluess fared forth into those underground
workings some 200 feet beneath the surface of the green fields above.
It was a weird experience. At first he tried to walk, and being without
any guide whatsoever he lost all sense of direction. Then he tried for
the sides of the tunnel, but there were ditches and wreckage which
brought him down so often that he was forced back to the centre of the
road. So he went down on his hands and knees and began to crawl along,
feeling the sleepers of the tram-track with his hands, using them as
a guide. He came, after many tribulations, to a place where the sides
and roof had fallen badly and very laboriously managed to crawl over
the heap of debris. After struggling about the underground tunnel for
an hour, he was forced at length to turn back. Another and yet another
attempt he made, each time getting a little farther along the tunnel.
“Why not let me try?” said Lambert at last.
“Very well,” said the inventor.
Lambert had never before used the new type of diving dress, but that
did not deter him. He got into it and had a short trial dive one
afternoon, and the next morning went down the shaft to try in dead
earnest to close the sluice which was letting in the water.
The inventor went down too, and sat there waiting, waiting, and
wondering what had happened to Lambert, and whether the new diving
dress was going to justify his hopes. The diver, meanwhile, was
fighting his way forward over the numerous obstacles in the tunnel,
crawling over the falls and squeezing between the roof and the
debris. It was nervy, risky work, for he did not know whether another
fall would come and bury him or close the small exit, nor did he
know whether he could manage to find his way back again. Under such
difficult conditions, anything is possible.
Nevertheless, he managed to get to the door that had caused all the
trouble. Feeling round, he found one of the valves open and succeeded
in closing it. Then he investigated the door and found that before he
could close it he would have to take up a couple of rails that were
obstructing the entrance. Away down in the bowels of the earth in
that flooded tunnel, far from help, relying upon his own strength and
courage alone, he struggled with the rails and managed to get one free.
The other baffled all his efforts, and reluctantly he turned round and
made his slow way out of the tunnel, after being away for an hour and a
half.
He was drawn up with Fluess, and directly their helmets were unscrewed
the inventor turned to Lambert.
“How far did you get?” he asked.
“Right up to the door,” said Lambert. “It’s wedged open by two rails. I
managed to get one away, and to close one of the valves. I think, if I
take a crowbar along, I shall be able to manage it all right.”
Sure enough, he went down and fought his way along the flooded tunnel
again. After a struggle, he levered the other rail up and succeeded in
passing beyond the door to close another valve, afterwards shutting the
door that had caused all the trouble. Before returning, he knew that
one more valve must be screwed up to keep the water back. The tips of
his fingers slid over the surface of the door like those of a blind man
until he found the valve, then he screwed it round until it would screw
no more.
He little knew, as he screwed away, that he was screwing the valve
open, but so it was. That valve, instead of following the usual rule
and screwing up to the right, actually screwed up to the left. Whether
any one knew of this variation, or whether the engineers forgot it in
their fight to free the tunnel of water, the fact remains that no one
told Lambert, who unconsciously screwed the valve open, with the result
that the tunnel took longer to pump out, because the water still poured
through this valve. Not until the water was overcome was the mystery of
the open valve solved.
The diver who performed this brilliant feat salved many fortunes from
the seabed, and was perhaps the greatest hunter of sunken treasure who
ever struggled into a diving dress. Even the experts, however, thought
little of his chances when he went out to try to salve the treasure
of the _Alphonso XII._, which was down in 160 feet of water off Point
Gando in the Grand Canary.
“Lambert has the job in hand,” said one.
“He can’t do it. She’s too deep for mortal man to tackle!” came the
reply.
Lambert dropped down to the deck of the _Alphonso_, and knew that a
fortune lay under his feet. He paced the deck until he came to the
exact spot beneath which the treasure should lie. Then he began to
investigate the ship, but, skilled as he was, he would not face the
risk of getting lost in its interior, of fouling his lines while he
groped his way in the darkness along passages and through cabins and
saloons to the strong room. To venture into the bowels of the ship
would probably mean that he was going to his death.
He summed up the situation. The treasure lay beneath two decks. To tear
a way through with crowbars or to chop a way through with axes was
impossible. Every movement at that depth was terribly exhausting, and
he had to rest, in order to recover, after doing the slightest thing.
His only means of getting the treasure was to blast a way through with
explosives, to harness explosives to do the work and thus save his own
energy.
He set to work and after tremendous trouble blew through the top deck.
Clearing the shattered pieces away, he let himself down into the
saloon, and began his attack on the second deck. It, too, succumbed
to the mighty concussions of the explosives, and Lambert dropped into
another saloon. He looked about him, and in the floor at the farther
end he found the entrance to the strong room. The trap-door resisted
his efforts, but in the end Lambert’s crowbar, skilfully wielded,
prised it up.
Lambert went into the treasure-room and saw the little chests of
treasure, each one of which contained a fortune. He signalled to the
surface, and a cable was let down. The tremendous pressure hampered
his movements, made them seem slow and clumsy. Nevertheless, he raised
a chest full of treasure and managed to slip a rope beneath it, then
he secured it to the hook hanging beside him. The signal was given,
and Lambert watched his first haul of the treasure mount through the
opening he had blasted in the ship. That chest swinging on the end of
the rope was full of gold coin worth £10,000!
Every time he braved the depths to seek the treasure he took his life
in his hand, but he did what he set out to do, and in the end he
managed to send to the surface seven boxes of treasure worth £70,000,
leaving another two boxes worth £20,000 to be recovered at a later
date. Lambert received £3500 as his share in this deep-sea enterprise,
in addition to his pay of £40 a month and all found.
Thrilling as were these treasure hunts, the most romantic story of all
is that of the _Hamilla Mitchell_. Here we have treasure and pirates
and a desperate chase all mixed up in the most approved adventure-story
style. Only, unlike a work of fiction, this story happens to be true.
The _Hamilla Mitchell_ came to grief on the Leuconna Rock, near
Shanghai, and carried down with her £50,000 of specie. She was a total
loss, and the underwriters, after paying the insurance, considered the
question of trying to salve the treasure. They instructed an expert
to visit the scene and report on the case. The expert in due course
considered that the case was hopeless, that the specie was lost for all
time, and that the wreck had gone down in such deep water in so exposed
a position that it was much too dangerous for divers to work there--not
a very cheerful report for the underwriters to receive.
There, for a time, the matter rested. Then upon the scene came a
Captain Lodge with an offer to do his best to recover the treasure.
The underwriters, unwilling to allow the specie of which they were
the owners to remain at the bottom of the sea, agreed gladly to the
proposal that was placed before them. Captain Lodge considered the
problem most profoundly. He knew that what was lost would not be won
back easily, that the odds were, indeed, very much against a single
ounce of the precious metal ever again seeing the light of day. This
did not dismay him. Securing the services of two clever divers, named
Ridyard and Penk, he made the trip to Shanghai, taking out with him
some special diving apparatus--the finest and most powerful equipment
to be found in the world.
He wandered about Shanghai looking for a vessel that would suit his
purpose, and, coming across a small sailing craft, chartered her and
proceeded on his quest for the wreck. Small as was the salvage vessel,
she was yet too large to take inshore among the high rocks, and so the
divers had to prosecute their search from the small boat which they
towed behind. They searched here, they searched there, dropping over
the side of the boat in their cumbersome dress, facing all the unknown
perils of the unknown depths. Now they were carefully exploring a ledge
perhaps only 20 feet deep, and a little later they would be slipping
down the face of a chasm that plunged sheer into the sea for another
100 feet or more. They did not spare themselves in that search, for at
times they penetrated to a depth of 160 feet.
They were investigating a ledge one day when a dark mass loomed up at
one end. They approached it, to find the wreck at last, noting with
satisfaction that it was in a comparatively shallow depth which made
the prospect of salvage fairly easy. Their jubilation was cut short,
however, as they drew nigh. It was the stern that held the treasure,
and the stern was missing!
Fate had once more been up to her tricks. The _Hamilla Mitchell_ had
settled with her stern overhanging deep water. Not for long did she
remain intact, for the gales soon broke off the unsupported after end,
which slipped off the ledge into the abyss, where the divers managed to
locate it in 156 feet of water.
The never-ending lines of bubbles from their outlet valves flowed
upward to the surface as they slowly explored the stern and prepared
for their assault on the treasure-room. It was a most dangerous as
well as a most difficult task to work in that treacherous chasm. The
currents were strong, the rocks were sharp, and the possibilities of
air lines being cut or fatally fouled were not pleasant to dwell upon.
Nevertheless, they stuck to their task and eventually Ridyard managed
to break a way into the strong room.
The sight which met his eyes as he gazed through the windows of his
copper helmet was like a scene from some fairy tale. The light,
filtering through to that great depth, enveloped the hold in a sort of
twilight gloom, and all over the place he dimly saw heaps of dollars
scattered about. He stooped down to the treasure chests, to find that
woodboring worms had eaten many of them quite away and the contents of
the boxes were spilled in all directions. He walked about on a floor of
solid gold; golden coins slipped about under his leaden soles.
Anything more romantic would not be easy to find, yet the romance did
not appeal to Ridyard. He was working against time, knowing that he
would not be able to stand the pressure for long. Every movement was
slow and difficult. The water was striving to crush him; he was being
saved from this terrible fate solely by the continual flow of air
coming down the rubber pipe to his helmet.
Four times Ridyard underwent that ordeal of getting into the
treasure-room and working under the enormous pressure until he was
quite exhausted. On the last occasion he surpassed his previous feats
of endurance and struggled doggedly on, loading up the treasure and
watching it disappear towards the surface until he had sent up the
contents of sixty-four boxes.
Strong and fit as he was, he became thoroughly worn out with the toil,
so he signalled to those above and made his way slowly to the surface.
They dragged him to the deck of the salvage craft and unscrewed his
helmet. His face was lined, his eyes were very tired, and his body
clamoured for moisture, although he had been immersed in it for a long
time. Not a glance did he give to the treasure lying about, the fortune
at his feet did not interest him.
“Give me a drink,” he said. “I’m dying for a drink of water.”
Penk nipped up a bucket and made his way to a spring at the top of the
island under which they were working. Putting down his bucket to fill,
he scanned the horizon, as sailormen will. A sudden amazement came over
him. The sea was dotted with sails, all making in the direction of the
island.
Wasting no time, he picked up his precious pail of water and ran down
to the ship.
“What’s up?” asked Captain Lodge, as Ridyard took his much-wanted drink.
“The sea’s full of junks, hundreds of them,” Penk replied.
Taking his glasses, Captain Lodge quickly identified the oncoming ships
as the junks of Chinese pirates who were making their way towards the
island from the farther side to avoid being seen. There was no doubt in
his mind as to what they were after. There was but one thing in that
quarter worth having, and that was the treasure stored in the salvage
craft. It was obvious that the pirates had been watching operations
carefully. They had undoubtedly planned to allow the divers to recover
the treasure, then they purposed stealing down upon the expedition
unawares, wiping it out and looting the gold.
The pirates were in overwhelming numbers, and Captain Lodge realized
instantly that the only thing to do was to run for it. Slipping the
anchor to save the time required to haul it up, the salvors hoisted
sail. Gradually they gathered way and stole from under the cover of
the island. Directly the salvage craft appeared in the open, the junks
altered course and started to pursue her.
Pity the poor salvors! The wind had practically failed them, yet they
could see some of the junks bending to a lucky breeze and overhauling
them. In desperation they put out the big sweeps and toiled like
galley-slaves to force their craft through the water. Ridyard, tired as
he was, took his turn at the oars to try to save the treasure he had
salved at such risk. So the salvage boat crept along, with the pirates
slowly gaining.
More exciting grew the chase. With anxious eyes the salvors watched
the distance between their own craft and the Chinese junks growing
gradually less. Harder than ever they strained at the oars, dipping
them into the sea, throwing all their weight upon them, pulling until
the muscles of their arms ached and their backs were nearly breaking.
It looked as though the salvors would lose their lives as well as their
treasure when the sails, which had been flapping idly, began to swell.
A puff of wind stirred their flag, and a steady breeze began to blow.
It was none too soon. The salvage craft started to gather way again and
forge through the water. Still the junks hung on. They were not going
to relinquish their prize without an effort.
The pirates continued to chase the salvage craft right until sundown,
when a friendly darkness hid pursued from pursuers and enabled Captain
Lodge to shake off and lose the bloodthirsty Chinese pirates. In the
end he managed to make Shanghai in safety with the rich treasure
of £40,000 aboard, thus bringing to a happy ending one of the most
exciting treasure-hunts ever known.
If Ridyard had not worked quite so hard and grown quite so thirsty, and
if Penk had not gone to fetch that pail of water, the salvors would
have remained in ignorance of the approaching pirates and would have
met a tragic death at their hands.
That lucky drink of water saved a fortune of £40,000.