COMMITTED TO THE DEEP
"I'M afraid it's a case with poor Barnes," said Dr. Conolly, in a low
tone, as the whaler came alongside the yacht and my father climbed
over the side. "He's taken a turn for the worse, and I don't think
he'll last till tomorrow.
"Poor fellow! Is there no hope?"
The doctor shook his head. "I was doubtful from the first. The spear
was a poisoned one; though the poison was undoubtedly stale, and
therefore slow in action, it was none the less sure."
"Can he be seen?"
"Yes, he's quite conscious."
I followed my father to the shelter-tent, under which the wounded
seaman lay.
"Well, Barnes, how goes it--better?" he asked, with a forced
cheerfulness.
"No, sir, though 'tain't no good making a fuss about it. My number's
up."
"Nonsense, man! you'll soon be all right again, I hope."
"All right aloft, sir, please God. I'm real glad you've come to see
me, Cap'n, for there'll be one or two little things I want squared
up."
"I'll do anything I can."
"Well, sir, there's my medal for South Africa, with three clasps:
would you mind accepting it as a kind o' keepsake from me? An'
there's the good-conduct medal, too. That ain't of much account
compared with t'other, but p'r'aps Mister Reginald would 'ave it."
"Thank you, Barnes; but have you no friends to give them to?"
"Never a relation in the world, sir. There's my pension papers in my
ditty-box; it's a matter of three quarters due to me. Will you see
that my chum, Joe Dirham, draws it? I've signed a paper about it."
"All right; I'll see to that."
"An' my identity-paper. It'll fetch a shilling at the 'Register's' at
the first home-port we touch. Joe might just as well 'ave that;
'tain't no good throwin' good money away, and, besides, it will make
all square and above-board up at the Admiralty."
"Do you feel much pain?"
"Precious little, Cap'n. As I said afore, it's no good makin' a fuss
over it; a seaman with one leg ain't of no use to you, but"--here his
voice trembled a little--"promise me, sir, that you'll bury me at
sea, an' not on the island; it'll be a snug moorin' for me at the
bottom of the lagoon. Now, Cap'n, read somethin' out of the Book, an'
say a prayer for me--I, never wasn't much in that line myself."
Somehow I felt unable to remain longer, so, shaking the seaman's thin
hand, I went aft, leaving my father with him.
The news of the state of poor Barnes cast a gloom over the ship, and
any feeling of enthusiasm over the discovery of the treasure was
smothered by the melancholy reflection that one of our comrades was
on his deathbed.
Next morning I was awakened by the sound of voices on deck. The sun
had risen in a thick haze, and, though not a zephyr disturbed the
surface of the lagoon, the air was cool and pleasant. Wondering what
the sounds meant, and whether poor Barnes had gone, I slipped on my
clothes and went on deck.
Clustered round the tent were most of the crew, listening to the
voice within, or whispering to each other in subdued tones. I went
forward, and found my father, Dr. Conolly, and the bos'n standing by
the side of the temporary bunk on which poor Barnes lay. The dying
seaman was fighting his battles o'er again, shouting and talking in
clear yet hurried tones. Now he was in the sweltering heat of a West
African backwater, advancing with his shipmates to storm the stockade
of a rebel chieftain; next he was serving a 4.7 gun with the Naval
Brigade, his feeble hands clutching in grim pretence at the
handspikes as the huge weapon on its unwieldy carriage was trained on
the advancing Boers. Other episodes followed in quick succession,
till the scene in the stockade where he received his fatal wound'
seemed to exhaust his last flickering strength.
"Can't you see it's getting quite dark?" he exclaimed feebly. "What's
wrong with the bos'n's mate? Why, hain't he piped the lamp-trimmers?
...Ah! that's better; the anchor-lamp's burnin' now, so we're brought
up at last.... Turn it up a little, lads... That's it... Burning
brightly now..."
The words died away in a long-drawn sigh. The doctor bent over the
now motionless form' and placed a finger lightly on one eye. Then he
shook his head. "Cover him over, poor fellow; he's made his last
voyage and reached the port aloft."
* * * * *
Two hours later, the whaler pushed off from the side of the
"Fortuna," with almost every man on board, and a still, shrouded
form, covered with a Union Jack, lying on a board athwartships, the
grand and solemn words of the Burial Service for use at sea mingling
with the soft splash of the oars as the men, keeping slow time,
pulled the boat towards the deepest part of the lagoon.
"... Suffer us not, at our last hour, for any pains of death, to fall
from Thee."
"Way enough; toss oars," ordered the bos'n in a low tone.
The men raised their oars to a vertical position, as a last tribute
to their shipmate, and the boat gradually began to lose way.
"... We therefore commit his body to the deep, to be turned into
corruption, looking for the resurrection of the body, when the sea
shall give up its dead...."
The bos'n gave the signal, and the board was tilted up, and with a
slight splash, the shrouded form slid into the water, leaving the
Union Jack fluttering in the boat. Instinctively I looked over the
side, and followed the course of the weighted canvas that enclosed
the mortal remains of poor Barnes, till the grey shroud turned a
greenish tinge, and at length was lost in the depth of the lagoon.
With heavy hearts we rowed back to the yacht.
* * * * *
Needless to say there was no work done on the wreck for the rest of
that day, but, to banish the feeling of depression, all hands were
kept busily employed, some on the repairs to the gig, others making
and repairing canvas gear, while the two divers made a successful
descent and recovered the lost anchor and cable. On coming up they
reported that the anchor was actually balanced on the edge of a deep
chasm, it being only by the merest chance that the ground tackle had
not been irrecoverably lost. So delicate, in fact, was the position
of the anchor, that the divers hesitated to approach it for fear that
it might make a sudden descent and carry them with it over the abyss.
Just before sunset a strong party went ashore to refill the
barricoes. The doctor and I went with them, but no amount of
persuasion could induce Yadillah to set foot upon the island again,
and during our stay he kept firmly to his resolution. We noticed a
curious fact in connection with the journey ashore. The water was
tinged in colour, and had a strong, sulphurous smell, so that we
argued there must have been a volcanic outlet somewhere in the
neighbourhood, or, failing that, there was a tremendous natural
agency still bottled up beneath the island, that before long must
seek to escape by another violent upheaval.
* * * * *
Soon after daybreak on the following day the working-parties set out
on their varied tasks, for, on account of the heat between the
sea-soddened timbers of the wreck, it was decided to suspend work
during the hottest part of the day.
The whaler's crew, under the orders of my uncle, devoted themselves
to the unloading and transporting of the iron pigs from the hold of
the "Fortuna," intending to replace them with bars of solid silver
from the "San Philipo"; while a party of men, under my father and the
bos'n, went away in the now serviceable gig to survey the reef.
I chose to go with the gig, which was certainly a more pleasant
amusement than working inside a steaming wreck, for even at that
early hour a thick vapour enveloped the "San Philipo."
For some distance the two boats kept company, the lighter boat towing
a pair of sheers which were to be set up on the cliff to enable the
pigs to be handled the more easily, while the whaler, in addition to
being heavily laden with ballast from the yacht, carried a second
pair of sheers to set up over the main hatchway of the wreck.
Opposite the landing-place on the reef we cast off our share of the
gear and rowed slowly by the ledge of rocks, my father keeping a
sharp eye on the formation of the reef to see if any of the gaping
crevices actually led to the open sea beyond.
For nearly a mile and a half the rock rose sheer from the water's
edge, and although the boat was backed into several winding gaps in
the reef, in every case the attempt to find a channel proved
fruitless. As we approached the spot where the reef joined the
island, the rocks became lower, but the depth of water was so little,
and the shoal extended so far from the reef, that it would have been
impossible to bring the yacht up to the reef, even if a channel
existed.
"Try the other end of the lagoon, sir," advised the bos'n. "We've let
that part alone up to the present."
"There's no harm in trying, Mr. Wilkins," replied my father, "though,
if I remember rightly, the original coral reef was very irregular at
that part, and stretched seawards for a considerable distance."
When, after an hour's steady pulling, we arrived at the other end of
the reef, we found that the rock was very similar to the rest, being
pierced by many deep channels that, as usual, terminated in what the
bos'n termed "blind alleys."
Three of these were explored without success, but the fourth, some
twenty feet in width in its narrowest part, ran in a straight
direction for nearly a hundred yards, the walls on either side
gradually diminishing in height from twenty-five to less than ten
feet. Its end terminated in a mass of broken stone, deposited as if
by human agency, in a diagonal direction, affording great facilities
for climbing.
"It strikes me, sir," remarked Mr. Wilkins, "that the sea is only a
few feet beyond the rock. Listen! you can hear the waves bleating
against the seaward side."
It certainly struck the bos'n, but in a totally different manner from
that which he implied, for, without warning, a terrific blast of
air, followed by a column of water, was forced through an orifice in
the rock, Mr. Wilkins, who was standing upon one of the thwarts in
order to make a more complete survey, being in the direct line of
fire, received the full force of the discharge, and was knocked
completely over the side of the boat, while the rest of us were
drenched to the skin.
The unfortunate bos'n was quickly hauled on board, little the worse
for his ducking, and the gig was backed off beyond the danger zone.
"Experience does it!" gasped the bos'n, spitting out a mouthful of
water; "which is, I am told, the Latin for 'Experience makes fools
wise.' Am I not right, Mr. Reginald?"
"Well, what has experience taught you?" asked my father, laughing.
"Only what I thought was the case before," replied the bos'n. "And
that is, that there's a communication through this rock between the
lagoon and the open sea."
"I don't see how that can help us," remarked my father.
"May be, may be not, sir," observed Mr. Wilkins oracularly. "But if
you don't mind, sir, will you land here for a few minutes. We can
manage it quite easily by the broken rocks at the side of the
blowing-hole."
We gained the summit of the reef without much difficulty. Here, as
the bos'n had expressed his opinion, a ledge, barely six feet in
width, separated us from the open sea, while on either hand, at a
distance of less than a hundred yards, a long reef ran at right
angles to the main ledge, terminating in jagged points of disrupted
coral nearly half a mile from where we stood.
By the deep-blue colour of the water it was evident that there was
plenty of depth between these two natural groynes, which formed ample
protection from the heavy rollers that at every other point along the
reef broke with a ceaseless roar.
"You've got your revolver with you, I see, sir," said the bos'n. "I'm
going to dive off and see what the rock looks like on the seaward
side. There may be sharks about and there may not; but keep a bright
look-out, and fire at one if it comes for me. Money," he added to the
bowman of the gig, "unreeve the painter and sling it ashore, will
you."
"There, sir," he continued, "I'll take a turn round the rock, and
drop the free end of the rope in the water so that I can pull myself
up; but keep a bright look-out, if you please."
Hastily divesting himself of his sodden garments, and placing them to
dry on the hot stones, the bos'n took a magnificent "header," and
cleft the water with hardly a splash. Quite two fathoms down he went
before he turned and swam towards the rocky wall, keeping below the
water at the same depth. Half a minute later he reappeared, and,
shaking the water from his hair, he grasped the rope and came up hand
over hand.
"That's all right, sir. Deep water both sides, and the rock full of
holes."
"What do you mean?" asked my father, unable to grasp the meaning of
the bos'n's words.
"Why, sir, the 'Fortuna' can float easily on either side of this
little neck of rock."
"On one side, I'll grant."
"Aye, on both sides, once we make a way through."
"Oh, how do you propose to do it'? Remove each piece of rock bit by
bit, when the weight of the smallest is two tons at the very
least--eh?"
"No, sir," replied the bos'n.
"Then how are you going to set about it?"
"Blast it," said Mr. Wilkins emphatically.