SHOWS HOW OUR HERO FORMED PLANS, HOW MISS PRITTY FORMED PLOTS, AND HOW
THE SMALL DOMESTIC AMUSED HERSELF.
On a certain cold, raw, bleak, biting, bitter day in November, our hero
found himself comfortably situated at the bottom of the sea.
We say `comfortably' advisedly and comparatively, for, as compared with
the men whose duty it was to send air down to him, Edgar Berrington was
in a state of decided comfort. Above water nought was to be seen but a
bleak, rocky, forbidding coast, a grey sky with sleet driving across it,
and an angry indigo sea covered with white wavelets. Nothing was to be
felt but a stiff cutting breeze, icy particles in the air, and cold
blood in the veins. Below water all was calm and placid; groves of
sea-weed delighted the eye; patches of yellow sand invited to a siesta;
the curiously-twisted and smashed-up remains of a wreck formed a subject
of interesting contemplation, while a few wandering crabs, and an
erratic lobster or two, gave life and variety to the scene, while the
temperature, if not warm, was at all events considerably milder than
that overhead. In short, strange though it may seem, Edgar was in
rather an enviable position than otherwise, on that bleak November day.
Some two years or so previous to the day to which we refer, Edgar, with
his diving friends, had returned to England. Mr Hazlit had preceded
them by a month. But Edgar did not seek him out. He had set a purpose
before him, and meant to stick to it. He had made up his mind not to go
near Aileen again until he had made for himself a position, and secured
a steady income which would enable him to offer her a home at least
equal to that in which she now dwelt.
Mr Hazlit rather wondered that the young engineer never made his
appearance at the cottage by the sea, but, coming to the conclusion that
his passion had cooled, he consoled himself with the thought that, after
all, he was nearly penniless, and that it was perhaps as well that he
had sheered off.
Aileen also wondered, but _she_ did not for a moment believe that his
love had cooled, being well aware that that was an impossibility. Still
she was perplexed, for although the terms on which they stood to each
other did not allow of correspondence, she thought, sometimes, that he
_might_ have written to her father--if only to ask how they were after
their adventures in the China seas.
Miss Pritty--to whom Aileen confided her troubles--came nearer the mark
than either of them. She conceived, and stoutly maintained, that Edgar
had gone abroad to seek his fortune, and meant to return and marry
Aileen when he had made it.
Edgar, however, had not gone abroad. He had struck out a line of life
for himself, and had prosecuted it during these two years with untiring
energy. He had devoted himself to submarine engineering, and, having an
independent spirit, he carved his way very much as a freelance. At
first he devoted himself to studying the subject, and ere long there was
not a method of raising a sunken vessel, of building a difficult
breakwater, of repairing a complicated damage to a pier, or a well, or
anything else subaqueous, with which he was not thoroughly acquainted,
and in regard to which he had not suggested or carried out bold and
novel plans and improvements, both in regard to the machinery employed
and the modes of action pursued.
After a time he became noted for his success in undertaking difficult
works, and at last employed a staff of divers to do the work, while he
chiefly superintended. Joe Baldwin became his right-hand man and
constant attendant. Rooney and Maxwell, preferring steadier and less
adventurous work, got permanent employment on the harbour improvements
of their own seaport town.
Thus engaged, Edgar and his man Joe visited nearly all the wild places
round the stormy shores of Great Britain and Ireland. They raised many
ships from the bottom of the sea that had been pronounced by other
engineers to be hopelessly lost. They laid foundations of piers and
breakwaters in places where old Ocean had strewn wrecks since the
foundation of the world. They cleared passages by blasting and
levelling rocks whose stern crests had bid defiance to winds and waves
for ages, and they recovered cargoes that had been given up for years to
Neptune's custody. In short, wherever a difficult submarine operation
had to be undertaken, Edgar Berrington and his man Joe, with, perhaps, a
gang of divers under them, were pretty sure to be asked to undertake it.
The risk, we need scarcely say, was often considerable; hence the
remuneration was good, and both Edgar and his man speedily acquired a
considerable sum of money.
At the end of two years, the former came to the conclusion that he had a
sufficient sum at his credit in the bank to warrant a visit to the
cottage by the sea; and it was when this idea had grown into a fixed
intention that he found himself, as we have mentioned, in rather
comfortable circumstances at the bottom of the sea.
The particular part of the bottom lay off the west coast of England.
Joe and a gang of men were hard at work on a pier when Edgar went down.
He carried a slate and piece of pencil with him. The bottom was not
very deep down. There was sufficient light to enable him to find his
man easily.
Joe was busy laying a large stone in its bed. When he raised his burly
form, after fixing the stone, Edgar stepped forward, and, touching him
on the shoulder, held out the slate, whereon was written in a bold
running hand:--
"Joe, I'm going off to get engaged, and after that, as soon as possible,
to be married."
Through the window of his helmet, Joe looked at his employer with an
expression of pleased surprise. Then he took the slate, obliterated the
information on it, and printed in an equally bold, but very sprawly
hand:--
"Indeed? I wish you joy, sir."