the water was cold—cold and clear and biting as ice. to dennis, inside the rubber suit, it seemed as though he had been plunged bodily into liquid ice. through the thick glass of the helmet he could see the green translucence all around him, clear and empty and shimmering with the sunlight from above. for himself, as for the other green hands at the work, he knew that a long submersion would be impossible.
darker grew the water underfoot as the light from above was diffused to the greater depths. dennis had gone down from the quarter-deck of the pelican; this, according to the soundings, would bring him to the sea-floor at the after end of the front half of the wreck. he could thus see whether the contents of the simpson's main-hold, aft of which she had broken in two, lay piled upon the sea-floor between the two sections of the wreck. if so, the work of salvage would be greatly hastened. pontifex, in the meantime, was exploring the bows and fore hatch of the wreck.
down went tom dennis into the depths, in a seemingly interminable descent. suddenly a huge shadowy black mass seemed rushing at him from below, and swift terror sent his heart throbbing; for he felt very helpless. then he remembered—the wreck, of course! the regular "click-click" of the pumps, sounding down through his air-valves, reassured and heartened him. an instant later he stood upon the bottom.
he wondered that there was very little growth or algae to obstruct him, until he realized that what little algae he could see were bending far over in the grip of a fairly strong sub-surface current, which, combined with the intense coldness of the water, had a discouraging effect upon marine growths. the bottom was not smooth, however, being extremely rocky and uneven.
the simpson had apparently broken just abaft the engine-room, and the fore half lay with her sloping deck toward the shore. dennis had come to the bottom close to her keel, and he was no long time in discovering that spilled over the sea bottom lay almost enough cargo to fill up the pelican.
having brought a line ready prepared, dennis got the bight around a packing-case plastered with barnacles. as he was drawing it taut, came a jerk upon his lifeline—the signal that his agreed "stint" was up. having no wish to be crippled or laid on the sick list, dennis responded, and at once was hauled off the bottom.
his ascent was very slow, and of necessity; for a quick jerk up from the depths would ruin any man alive. the progression had to be gradual and halting.
on the way up, it occurred to him for the first time that he was literally in the hands of his enemies!
the moment he was in the morning sunlight again, tom dennis forgot his uneasiness and laughed at the terror which had seized upon him in the depths. it was absurd.
he did not go down again that morning, however.
dennis was nearly clear of his diving-suit before the skipper's copper helmet broke the water amidships. pontifex reported that the bow plates of the wreck were torn out, and he had lined two cases; these were brought in, together with that which dennis had secured, and were at once smashed open. the two cases from the fore hold proved to contain ammunition; that from the main hold, two excellently packed machine-guns.
this was enough for pontifex, who at once conjectured that the main and after holds of the simpson had contained the bulk of the machine-guns, the most valuable part of her cargo. corny at once broke out a kedge, lowered it to the stern of his boat and hung it there by a stop to the ring, then started off to the stern of the simpson. once laid among the rocks in the shallower water there, the crew tramped around the capstan while bo's'n joe lifted "windy weather! stormy weather!" into a resounding chorus.
at last it was done. the pelican, all reconnaissance over, lay snugly ensconced between the two sections of the john simpson. the off watch went below, curiosity appeased by the barnacled unromantic packing-cases; and captain pontifex fell to hard work, going down again almost at once.
dennis took charge of the after pumps, while the missus herself took the wheel of those in the waist. the kanakas, only prevented from diving naked by the depth and the icy coldness of the water, were eager to try the diving-suits. as each man went down in turn, he carried four lines, making them fast to as many cases. thus, despite the brief diving spells, in no long time the cases began to come aboard as fast as they could be handled.
when the watch knocked off at eight bells, noon, dennis was amazed by the number of cases which had come aboard. he was dead tired, also; the constant strain of watching the pump gauges and keeping the air at exactly the right pressure was no light one, and at odd moments he had tailed on to the lines with the other men.
"i see you're no greenhorn," commented pontifex at dinner, with a sharp glance at the hands of dennis. "where'd you learn to keep your thumb clear while hauling a line?"
"oh, i've knocked around ships a little," dennis laughed. "are you going to stay in this position?"
"yes. if the japs come, we're fixed to keep 'em off both ends of the wreck. well, think you can go down again this afternoon?"
dennis nodded. "sure! i'm supposed to have a bad heart, but i haven't noticed it."
as it chanced, however, he did not go down again that day, for during mr. leman's watch the after airhose developed a leak which had to be fixed, and the second apparatus was consequently out of business until the following morning. pontifex, who took the first dog-watch, kept the one suit hard at work, and all aboard were well satisfied with results.
that night, by the light of a huge flare set atop the try-works, the cargo was stowed. shears had to be run up over the hatchways to handle the heavy cases, and the deck was not washed down until just before the morning watch. when dennis came on deck at 4 a.m. the ship was incased in so heavy a fog that the lookout was withdrawn from the island.
"dis fog, maybe she keep up a week," grumbled corny, overhauling the diving lines. "if de jap sheep come, den look out!"
the stern of the wreck, which had been hidden at high tide, was again being uncovered. so thick was the fog that dennis doubted the possibility of diving, but his doubts were soon set at rest. corny and the skipper, each carrying lines, made a descent, and corny returned with word that it was a "cinch".
pontifex was still down, and dennis was preparing to get into the suit as corny vacated it, when of a sudden the voice of the missus bit out from the waist.
"keep quiet, all hands! listen!"
astonished, dennis obeyed. corny, beside him, stood with hand cupped to ear, slowly shaking his head. nothing was to be heard, the fog was impenetrable.
"what did she hear?" murmured dennis. the cape verde man shook his head.
"no telling. but nobody don't fool her—ah! listen, queek!"
dennis heard it then—an indistinct and muffled vibration, too slight to be called a noise, which was felt rather than heard. it came again and again, an irregular sound.
"it's de sail," said corny. "de sail flap-flap in de wind—and dere's somet'ing else goin', too——"
"a boat's engine!" exclaimed dennis softly.
"yeou, corny!" the missus gave swift command aft. "call all hands aft an' tell mr. leman to fetch the rifles. lively yeou!"
meantime, she was bringing pontifex aboard, manifestly against his will, as the signal-line testified. dennis kicked out of the rubber suit, getting clear just as bo's'n joe came up the companion way. a moment later both leman and corny appeared, each with an armload of rifles interspersed with shot-guns.
"strike me blind!" exclaimed ericksen, pausing beside dennis, and listening intently. "if it ain't them japs—a schooner, likely, beatin' up for the island under power, and all hands too lazy to take in sail! aye, that's them."
"but it may be someone else," said dennis. "a fisherman, perhaps."
bo's'n joe gave him a look of pitying scorn from his uptwisted eye. "you wait an' see!"
rifles were served out to all aboard, dennis among the rest, and by the time captain pontifex was up and out of his suit, the ship was ready for defence. pontifex heard the news without comment; a rifle under his arm, he dispatched corny to the crosstrees to keep watch from there, and ordered mr. leman to stand by with a megaphone.
"growin' closer, sir," volunteered ericksen. "takin' soundings, she is."
the skipper nodded. the fog-muffled thrum of an engine was now distinctly perceptible, while the slatting of sails told that the approaching craft was not far off. the fog was thick and steady without a breath of wind to thin it out.
"all right, mr. leman," said pontifex suddenly. "let 'em have it."
instantly the stentorian tones of mr. leman, intensified a thousandfold by the megaphone, blared out upon the fog.
"stand off or ye'll run us down, ye lubbers! keep away!"
from the mist came a shrill thin yell of surprise, followed by an excited jabbering of many tongues. clearly the visitors were of foreign origin. then a shrill voice lifted in english amid sudden silence as the thrumming motor ceased its noise.
"'ello! oo are you?"
"very good, bo's'n joe," said the skipper calmly. "she'll be in the centre of the fairway, most likely—about two points abaft our beam."
ericksen lifted to his shoulder the shotgun with which he had armed himself, and two smashing reports blasted into the fog as he fired both barrels. a shrill clamour of voices made answer, followed by instantaneous and blanket-like silence. then came a single sullen plunge, as of some heavy object striking the water.
"ah!" remarked pontifex, staring into into the fog as though he could see through it. "very good, bo's'n—you reached 'em. they've anchored, and they'll lie doggo until the fog lifts. they know we'll waste no bullets if we can't see them."
"reached them?" repeated dennis. "you don't mean that ericksen tried to hit them?"
bo's'n joe guffawed, and pontifex gave dennis a peculiar smiling look—a very diabolical look.
"my dear mr. dennis, that's exactly what he did. and some yellow beggar caught the pellets in his hide—in other words, got the hint! they'll try no games until they can see what they're up against."
"but where are they?" demanded dennis, giving up any expostulation.
"about six fathoms away, i should say—not more than fifty feet, certainly." the skipper glanced at mr. leman, who nodded confirmation. "they might be less than that, and we couldn't see them, nor they us. after the fog lifts—well, then there'll be fun!"
"they'll fight?"
pontifex caressed his moustache and smiled softly.
"more or less—they'll try some deviltry on us first. lay out some harpoons and shoulder-guns, mr. leman; we'll have a few tonite bombs ready. corny, bring in those cases that i lined before i came up. we'll get back to work directly."
dennis saw no good in making protests. there was no law here save that of the strongest, and pontifex was dead right in carrying the fight to the enemy, aggression being nine points of fighting law. besides, pontifex was manifestly enjoying the prospect, and just at present dennis was playing a waiting game and had no desire to bring about any crisis.
there being no time for more workman-like methods, an anvil and a cold-chisel were brought aft, with half a dozen harpoons, and two of the hands were set to work cutting through the iron harpoon hafts, just behind the spear-points. now, modern whaling is carried out almost exactly as the new bedford whalers did it a century ago, except for a small brass cylinder fastened to the haft of the harpoon. in this cylinder is carried a tonite bomb. whether the harpoon be flung by hand or be fired from a shoulder-gun, it carries the bomb into the whale—and that ends the whale.
the points off the six harpoons, mr. leman made ready a couple of shoulder-guns and loaded the cylinders of the harpoons with bombs. as he observed, they might or they might not do much damage, but they would make a big noise when they hit; and with this intent the weapons were laid aside to be used in case of any aggressiveness on the part of the enemy. for the present, at least, the japs seemed to be maintaining a careful silence.
"well, mr. dennis," said pontifex at length, "i'm going to resume my interrupted job; i guess i can lay a few more lines before quitting. who's going down on your lines?"
"why, i will—if you think it's safe," returned dennis. "you're not going to knock off work, then?"
"on account of that yellow scum? i should say not!" exclaimed pontifex. "mr. leman will do any fighting that's necessary while i'm down; and the missus will see to it that nothing fouls our lines. but send someone else if you don't like the idea."
"oh, it suits me," answered dennis, knocking out his pipe. "i dare say there's no great risk, but it would feel sweet if the ship left us prowling on the bottom, eh?"
pontifex grunted and went forward, being swallowed up in the fog that cloaked everything.
having learned from corny that the bottom was pretty dark, but by no means unsuited to working, dennis called the steward. although the little cockney was a viperous criminal ashore, he was a faithful soul at sea, and dennis had learned that he entertained a strong feeling of responsibility while watching the pumps.
"hi, steward!" he called. "come and give me a hand with this suit—and bring a couple of kanakas to run these pumps, too. corny's busy with the lines."
"comin' sir," said the steward's voice, and the cockney appeared a moment later.
meantime, in the waist, captain pontifex was engaged in talk with the cook, while the missus listened.
"now's the time, dumont," said pontifex, fondling his curled mustache. "work right along aft until you get on his line, savvy?"
"mais oui!" returned frenchy, his black eyes glittering. "but me, i like not this diable of a fog! it will be dark under the water."
"so much the better." and pontifex smiled his cruel smile. "so much the better! he thinks i'm going down. let the steward attend to his pumps—and we'll blame the steward for what happens. in this murky water he'll not see you coming down there—you can get on top of him and cut his lines and be off in a shot. are you ready or not?"
"yes!" exclaimed frenchy, reaching for the diving-suit.
"and watch out for the tide," cautioned the skipper. "it's ebbing strong and you might lose your bearings if you don't look sharp."
frenchy grinned, and unstrapped his sheath-knife.
