a little around the stuffing, which was not enough to wet a man's feet.
Another day and the starboard boilers were doing duty with a smoothing
sea and a sun peeping out through the banks of trade clouds. The storm
had long passed; the _Prince Albert_ was on her way under full power,
with nothing at all to disturb the serenity of the passage, save
the knowledge that we had a masterly crew aboard and some excellent
specimens for manning passenger ships.
Down the Western Ocean we ran without further incident, and hove to off
the entrance of Antonio, burning flares for the pilot. You know the
place. Narrow cut in through the reef, with the harbor lying like a
pool of blue water in the surrounding hills. Not a breath of air in the
place even when, half a mile distant, just outside, the trade might be
blowing a twenty-knot breeze.
The pilot came out at daybreak, and we ran in, tied up to the wharf,
and began discharging. My duties were ended for the time, as I thought,
and I took a stroll up to the hotel upon the hill. There was no use
trying to get any sleep in the watch below while at the dock, for two
hundred howling Jamaica blacks roared and surged along the gangways and
crowded the winches, handling the cargo ably, while the women came down
in swarms to chat with the crew and sell a few grapefruit and oranges.
Boldwin let any one come aboard, and as the men were not supposed to
handle cargo, they had plenty of time in spite of all we could do to
keep them busy.
The skipper reported the damage to the agents, and told of the disaster
below. He was honest. He might have saved that bit of knowledge until
we reached England again, but he told his tale, and the agents refused
to allow him to sail until the pipe was repaired and properly bolted
down into the bilge plates as it should be. In the smooth water of
that mirror-like harbor it seemed an easy thing to do. All that was
necessary was to get a diver to go under the fifteen feet to the
outside end and pass up the bolts through the flange.
Mr. Man from Donegal could then get at them with his monkey wrench and
screw down the nuts upon them, clamping the pipe as fast as the keel
itself.
"You take a look around uptown and try to get hold of a diver," said
the old man. "Mr. Sacks, the agent, says he don't know of any nearer
than Kingston, and it'll take two days to get the one over there, as
he's out on a wreck off the harbor. We can't wait two days. Got to get
to Montego Bay and take on a lot of stuff, then get to Kingston for
clearing and off we go."
"Why not wait until we get to Kingston to do the trick?" I asked.
Bill Boldwin gazed at me in contempt.
"Say, do you want to advertise the fact that we are on the bum to all
the passengers the line'll carry? Think a minute, man, and don't ask
fool questions. We got to get that job done right here--see? We don't
go outside until there's something more'n a mattress and a bit of
fearnaught between us and the bottom of the Caribbean."
"But we carried it the last thousand miles all right," I said.
Bill turned away in disgust.
As a matter of fact, I didn't like the idea of trying to get hold of
a diver in Antonio. There were not enough divers to go down to find
the bottoms of the rum bottles ashore, let alone a ship's bilge. It's
true, a man might do the thing naked in that clear water. I've seen
men in the East copper a ship twice as deep with nothing on them but a
hammer and a mouthful of nails.
After a day's search I gave it up. Not a man knew anything about
submarine work, and at the hotel they laughed at me when I inquired for
a diver. I also noticed that Miss Lucy Docking looked well sitting upon
the veranda of the joint, togged out as she was in white linen. She
gave me a nod, but wasn't keen on talking when I tried to find out if
she had made arrangements for lady passengers that voyage.
"There's two on the books--that's all," she said, and gazed placidly
out over the tops of the cocoa-nuts growing upon the beach below.
"Your advice last Friday helped me a lot," I said, "and I appreciate it
and would----"
"Would you like some more?" she interrupted suddenly.
"Anything you might suggest," I said.
"Beat it back to the ship, then," she answered without a smile.
"Sure--if that's your advice," I snarled; "the hot weather has
evidently soured your----"
"Cut it out--I'm not a guest here, and what do you think the agents
would say if they saw the chief officer of their 'crack' liner talking
to their stewardess sitting on the hotel piazza? I thought you had more
sense."
"I ain't the only fool aboard--that's straight," I said.
"No; nor ashore, either--why don't you stop that hole yourself? You're
big enough and ugly enough to stop a clock," she snapped.
"Thanks!" I answered, and strode away with the kindest feelings
imaginable for our stewardess.
But strange as it may seem, that remark was what did the business. I
would stop that hole if I had to be keelhauled myself to do it. What!
Lay the ship up a day or two while that lady sat around in white duck
and looked out dreamily over that beautiful harbor? Not if I knew
myself. I'd see that the ship got away and hoped she would carry at
least two ugly and indignant aged ladies who could and would make life
a happy dream for that stewardess.
I went back aboard with the report that there was not a diver this side
of hell, and that if the ship would stand the expense of my funeral I
would at least try to pass the bolts for the man from Donegal to screw
fast.
"Sink a donkey man, anyhow!" I swore, "why don't the company get
engineers enough to run a ship properly?"
"Why, indeed?" smiled Bill Boldwin.
I turned to the men I needed, and with that bos'n to give them advice
with those flippers of his, I peeled off and made ready for the work.
The engine-room force had taken off the pipe and bolted a new flange to
it, a strong job and proper. The affair was all ready to ship just as
soon as we dared pull the wad of stuffing away and set it up. A frame
had been rigged in the room to steady the affair, and the bolt holes
had been reamed out as much as they would stand. A deck pump kept the
water from the vicinity, the water that still leaked in around the bolt
holes.
It was necessary to get the wad of stuff away from the bolt holes in
the flanges, for it spread out so that it made passing of bolts from
the outside impossible. The pressure upon it from the water under the
ship at the depth of fifteen feet was great, and I was supposed to get
a line to it so that it might be pulled away by the men on deck after
we slacked away the three-inch line by which we had hauled it into the
breach. The pipe was set up true over the opening, the holes lined up,
a few bolts inserted point downward to steady it, and all was ready for
the man outside to get the blamed wad away and pass the bolts upward so
that their threads would appear through the flange. I went on deck and
gazed down over the side at the warm blue depths.
"Strange that the mate has to do the dog's work," I said to Mac, who
was waiting and watching.
I had a line rigged under the bilge by passing it under the bows and
drifting it aft until it came right on the line of the hole. It was
slack enough to allow a handhold, so that I could pull myself down
quickly and then let go as I pushed in a bolt.
I took a light line and over I went.
The water was fine. The light filtered down under the ship's bilge,
and it was only dark after I swept well under the curve of the side.
Still, I could see a little, and soon made out a mass which I rightly
took to be the mattress and stuff filling the hole.
I tried to get the line fast to the thing, feeling quickly, but I
lost my breath before I got it fast and, letting go, struggled to the
surface again.
"What luck?" asked Mac, grinning over at me.
I wasted no time in idle words. I recovered and grasped the line again
and hauled myself furiously toward the opening underneath. I could not
get the line fast, and had to come up and confess that I had failed so
far.
"Look out a shark don't get you," said some one with an idea of wit.
"Give me a marline spike," I ordered that bos'n, and the beggar got
one, handing it to me by a line. I dove again, and this time managed to
drive the spike in between the turns of the line holding the mattress.
The next dive I got the small line fast to it, and, coming up, told
them to slack away on the big line inside and haul the small one
outside and get the stuffing away. It came easy enough, and the line of
interested faces peering over the rail above bore a different look as I
hung with one hand and rested from the exertion.
"Now for the bolts," I said, and one was handed down. I hauled under
again and inserted it, feeling with some satisfaction the other end
being grasped by some one inboard. Mr. Donkey Man had hold of it all
right, and, putting on a nut, set it up without delay. This much of
the job was not so hard, but I was now getting tired, and found that
I could hardly get below before I wanted to get my breath again. I was
no diver--no, not to speak of, but I thought of that woman sitting up
there waiting, taking it easy with her insolence and white dress----
Seven other inch bolts were to be inserted before the job could be
finished inside, and the water was pouring through the bolt holes in
streams that kept the pumps working full stroke and made working about
the opening difficult. I came on deck, and Bill Boldwin gave me a
noggin of rum, grinning at me all the time.
"You ain't so bad for a mate--I've sailed with worse," said he.
"The next time I sign on it'll be as a master submarine," I said, with
some feeling. "Now, if I didn't have to wear these breeches I could do
better and faster work."
"Why don't you take 'em off?" he said.
"But the ladies--I must wear something----"
"Oh, what do you care for a lot of niggers? Strip if it does you any
good."
I was just about to take his advice when I noticed the face of Miss
Docking passing the port along the gangway. She had been attracted by
the crowd aboard, and had come, woman-like, out of pure curiosity, to
see what was on.
"No," I said; "I'll fix the rest, all right--gimme another noggin."
I got seven of the eight bolts in place; and the donkey man, assisted
by Mac and the entire engine-room force, set them up one at a time
after packing the joint properly. Only one wooden plug remained
inboard, and the water squirted straight up nearly fifteen feet with
the pressure when that was pulled out for my last attempt. If I could
get that bolt in, there was a job done that would save the company
perhaps a few hundred dollars, and I would get--well, I might get
mentioned as something better than the ordinary mate when Bill made
his report. But that wasn't what made me do the thing; it was the
confounded spirit that Lucy Docking stirred up within me. Oh, yes, I
was a fool, all right. I don't deny it.
The affair was getting to be something of a circus by this time, and
the coons who were looking on were making remarks. I was about to clear
the gangway when I thought that here was the last plug, the last bolt,
and then for a nip and a sleep before clearing. I went over with that
last bolt, and, as I did so, I saw Miss Lucy gazing out of a cabin
port at me. Before I went under her face appeared above the rail and
watched. I was so tired by this time that I had the small line, which
was hambroline, fast about my armpits, so that Mac and his crew could
haul me up if I gave out entirely. This was my mistake.
Down I went, and as I went under I thought I heard the word "Shark!"
muttered by some of the colored folk above. I had just shoved in the
last bolt when a shadow passed. At the same instant there was a mighty
pull upon the line. I was jerked bodily away, and my back scraped the
huge barnacles which covered the ship all along in the wake of her
engines clear to her sternpost. The razor-like edges cut and stung
me. I felt a mighty desire to breathe, and tried to get upward. Then
my head struck the bottom of the ship with great violence, and I was
partly stunned. This was what probably saved my life, for I ceased to
breathe, and the spasm passed.
What really happened was this:
A huge sawfish was swimming about the harbor, having just come inside
the reef. Tropical seas are infested by many of these fish, which "fin
out" like a shark, and which are probably of the shark species. The
long snout, unlike the swordfish, which is a giant mackerel, is studded
with rows of sharp teeth, put there for the Lord knows what purpose.
This monster had come close to the ship, and the negroes had spotted
him, and thought him a shark at a distance where his snout could not be
seen.
Some one shouted, "Shark!" and the intelligent bos'n hauled line with
those finlike flippers of his after the manner of a sperm-whaler coming
upon a three hundred-barrel whale. My head had struck the ship's bilge,
and my back had been cut open with the razor-like barnacles--and then
the fish, getting frightened at the uproar, dove below, and his teeth
on his saw snout fouled the line.
It parted, but it parted between him and the ship, and away I went in
tow of a flying sawfish.
I knew nothing about it for some time, luckily; it would have affected
my nerves.
Luckily the negroes were active in spite of their laziness. A small
boat, lying alongside the ship, was instantly manned, and within a
minute it was after me, with four stout blacks pulling for all they
were worth. A man in the bow reached over and jabbed at the line with
his boat hook and jerked it aboard. Then he lifted me in and turned me
over to the rest in the boat, while he held on to the line and played
the fish gamely for all the sport there was in it.
I came to in that boat towing behind a sawfish, which the natives
seemed to think was more important to catch than me getting back aboard
and receiving proper treatment for being nearly cut in two and drowned.
The line finally broke, and they rowed me sorrowfully back alongside.
I looked up, and saw Miss Lucy Docking gazing over the side with
some show of anxiety expressed upon her face. Also I noted Bill
Boldwin, skipper of the _Prince Albert_, showing some interest in the
proceedings.
"Send him aboard, you black scoundrels!" screamed Miss Lucy. "How dare
you keep that man in the boat chasing a good-for-nothing fish?"
"Bring him alongside, or I'll be in there after you," roared Bill.
My bos'n passed a line down, and I was quickly hoisted aboard, where I
was laid out flat on my back, as I was still too weak to stand. Miss
Lucy herself poured whisky down my throat and smoothed my wet hair back
from my bleeding head.
"Arnica, you lazy rascals!" she hissed, and some one went for it.
My cuts were soaked in it, and it stung furiously, but the cuts of
barnacles are poisonous, and I rather preferred arnica to friar's
balsam, which I knew Bill would rub me with. Then the bos'n helped me
to my bunk, and Miss Lucy Docking was left alone with me to attend to
my wants.
"I suppose my advice and counsel was not so good this time?" she said
as Bill left us.
"Well, it taught me one thing, all right enough," I said, "and that may
do me some good in the future."
"And how is that?" asked the lady, looking at me with some show of
concern. She had wonderful eyes, and her hair was noticeably curly at
the temples--and her mouth----
"Well, it will teach me never, no, never, under any circumstances
whatever, do you understand?--never to take it again," I said, taking
her hand.
"We'll see about that later on," she said, and her mouth had a peculiar
droop at the corners that has been a constant source of dread to me
ever since--that is, whenever I see it.
IN THE HULL OF THE "HERALDINE"
"I understand that you did good work in the _Prince Alfred_ in time of
trouble," said Lord Hawkes, looking at me with approval. He was manager
of the Prince Line, and, when he sent for any of us to tell us that we
had done well, it was time to--well, he didn't often do that, and I
must have shown some embarrassment.
I remained silent, holding my cap in my hands and looking at Boldwin,
my skipper, who had done me the honor to report me favorably in the log
book.
"I hear, also," continued Lord Hawkes, "that you are a good diver, a
master workman under water----"
"Pardon me, your lordship," I interrupted, "I'm but a licensed ship's
officer, and what I don't know about diving would fill a dozen empty
log books."
"Well, at all events, you showed resource. Yes, my good Garnett, you
are a man of infinite resource. There's no doubt about that, and that's
what I'm coming to. You are also resolute in time of trouble, and the
two qualities are what I need in the work I am going to send you to
do."
Bill Boldwin looked scared. He didn't want to lose his mate. He had
simply spoken for me that I might get in the good books of the company,
not get away from his ship.
The manager of the Bay Line seemed to be studying some papers upon the
desk before him while we two stood respectfully in front as became
seamen in the presence of our mighty ruler. Boldwin was keen on lords.
I hadn't associated with them to any great extent myself, but I was
willing--no matter what might be said about them.
"The _Princess Heraldine_, our Cape liner, left port August the fifth,"
said Lord Hawkes. "She had aboard in her safe the famous Solander
diamond, a stone nearly as large as the Cullinan and worth something
like a round half-million dollars. Also she had about three million
more in various stones uncut and consigned to the firm here. In running
up the West African coast, she broke her crank shaft and drove it
through her bottom, tearing the compartment to pieces, and forcing
Captain Sumner to head for Lagos in the hope of beaching her before she
sank. He managed to get her into ten fathoms on that low, sandy coast,
and she went down about a mile or two offshore.
"All the passengers were saved, but by some oversight the combination
of the safe was lost at the time they needed it, owing to the agent,
Grimes, being either too frightened or too ill to remember it.
"Captain Sumner--the only other man aboard who knew the
combination--was unable to either leave the bridge at the critical
moment of her sinking, owing to the necessity of saving the passengers
in the small boats, or tell any one before the _Heraldine_ suddenly
settled and went down, carrying five of the crew and the entire
contents of the safe along with her."
Lord Hawkes looked up at me shrewdly as he finished and gazed into my
eyes.
I saw no necessity for a reply. There was a few minutes' silence, then
he went on:
"The wrecking company is now on the way there, but there has been some
trouble experienced with them and with the underwriters. Therefore
we've deemed it worth while to send a ship--one of our regular Cape
boats on her lay-up voyage--to Lagos, and try for the safe.
"The ship is a total loss, and will be covered all right, but the
diamonds are not insured, owing, as I have said, to some disagreement
with the underwriters lately, and it has been just our luck to lose
them this voyage.
"You are to take the _Prince John_, and go to Lagos. There you will
find the wrecking crew waiting orders. You are to see that we get that
safe intact--you understand? We want that safe _just as it was before
it went to the bottom_. Your orders are here." And he handed me a
folded document. "You will leave at once."
"Aye, aye, sir," I said, somewhat bewildered, but getting the lay of
the thing straight enough. "Is that all, sir?"
"That's all. If you wish anything regarding details, you will see Mr.
Smith of the main office. I wish again to impress you that this mission
is important."
It struck me so at once. A few millions in diamonds in ten fathoms--in
a ten-ton safe! Yes, that was something worth looking after. It was
important, all right. Seemed easy enough. Any one who knows anything
about wrecking, knows that ten fathoms isn't too deep to work, although
it's some little ways down. It depends also upon other conditions,
which might or might not prevail. I'd get that safe easy enough--yank
it aboard all standing, as we say at sea.
Well, within two days I was standing on the bridge of the _Prince
John_, and wondering how the poor fellows in Africa managed to keep a
ship of her class afloat long enough to lay her up.
It was the company's policy to have their African steamers laid up at
Cape Town--helped labor, local progress, and all that sort of thing. In
reality they got the work done for about half what it would cost them
in England.
The _Prince John_ could make ten knots under most favorable
circumstances, but as this was her lay-up voyage, she, as might be
imagined, was not doing her best. I think she rammed along about eight,
most of the way down; and McDougal, the chief engineer, was working
like a machinist from daylight till dark to get her to do that.
We carried only the crew of six seamen and ten firemen, with two
engineers, a donkeyman, a pair of mates, a cook, and galley boy. Just
two dozen of us all told; and, while I had never commanded a ship of
any size before, I was not suffering much from swelled cranium as I
stood upon the bridge and gave orders.
Low-powered, black-sided, with the regulation Clyde bow and round
stern, she was no better than a tramp. We carried extra diving and
hoisting gear for the wrecking crew that had preceded us. Our winches
were heavy, and built for working in the African trade where a ship
must handle her own cargo. They would be useful in the work ahead.
My mates, Simpson and Dennison, were good men, and knew their little
book all right. Simpson had a very red nose, and looked as if he
liquored on the sly, but he never showed groggy on duty, so I had no
chance to call him down. He would continue the voyage as captain after
I got that safe up and on its way to England. Dennison was young and
boyish. He was a good lad, and never slept in his watch on deck--at
least I never caught him.
The run was uneventful, and we were sooner or later close to the West
African coast, running through an oily sea, and pointing for Lagos.
One hot and stifling morning after I had worked the sight, I was
sitting in a deck chair at the pilot-house door, thinking of Lucy
Docking, and how I might make a saving of fifteen pounds a month out of
a salary fixed at twelve. This mathematical problem was unfinished when
Dennison hailed me from the bridge.
"Vessel right ahead, sir, anchored about a mile and a half offshore,"
he said.
It was our friends, the wrecking crew, and we had arrived.
The topmasts of the _Heraldine_ stuck clear of the oily sea. She had
been a three-masted ship with square rig forward and fore and aft upon
the main and mizzen. She had sails upon her spars already bent after
the old-time style of low-powered ships. She lay easily in about ten or
twelve fathoms, and had a slight list to port owing to her settling a
bit upon her bilge.
Being very flat and wide-bottomed, she looked almost ready to rise and
continue her voyage lying as she did in that smooth sea, and being
unhurt save for that gash in her bilge where the broken crank tore
through, thrashing her life out before the engineer could shut off
steam.
I pictured for a moment the huge flail, the piston with the broken
crank attached, the pieces not less than half a ton, whirling up and
down under the full pressure of her cylinders with nothing to stop
it. There must have been a wild mess in that engine room with a crazy
hammer going full tilt like that.
As in most single-screw ships, her crank must have thrown down when
connected but a foot or two above her bilge, and when it tore loose it
must have struck full power at each and every wild throw of the piston.
My business was not to raise her, however. She was not worth it, having
insurance, and being better as a total loss. I was after getting into
the treasure room situated just beneath the main deck forward of the
boilers.
The room, from the drawings furnished by her builders, was an iron
compartment ten by fifteen feet. At one end of it--the forward one--was
built the huge safe. This was bolted down, and to the beams.
It was not a new affair, having done duty for years in the African
trade, but it had a very effective combination lock of the usual kind,
and, as one would have to open the strong-room door before being able
to get to the combination of the safe, it was considered perfectly
competent to carry any amount of treasure.