Dutch the Diver: or, A Man's Mistake. Fenn George Manville

he says, ‘I ain’t afraid to go down, and if I loses my life it’s all the governor’s fault.’ So down he goes, and dreckly after he begins pulling his siggle rope, and they pulls him up, unscrews him, and lays him on the deck, and gives him cold grog.”

      “But was he senseless?”

      “He wasn’t so senseless that he couldn’t lap the grog, sir, no end; and if he warn’t playing at sham Abraham, my name ain’t Sam Oakum.”

      Barrport was soon reached, and, boarding a small lugger, Dutch and his companion were put aboard a handsomely-rigged schooner, lying about four miles along the coast, at anchor, by the two masts of a vessel seen above the water. And here it was evident that arrangements had been made for diving, for a ladder was lashed to the side of the vessel, evidently leading down to the deck of the sunken ship, while four men in diving suits lounged against the bulwarks, their round helmets, so greatly out of proportion to their heads, standing on a kind of rack, while the heavy leaden breast and back pieces they wore lay on the planks.

      “Ah, Pugh,” said a weather-beaten, middle-aged man, greeting Dutch as he reached the deck; “glad you’ve come. When I’ve a mutiny amongst my own men I know what to do; but with these fellows I’m about done, especially as they say the machinery is defective.”

      “Of course, Captain Studwick,” said Dutch aloud, “men cannot be asked to risk their lives. Here, Tolly, what is it?”

      The diver spoken to, a fat-faced, pig-eyed fellow, with an artful leer upon his countenance, sidled up.

      “The pump don’t work as it should, Mr Pugh,” he said. “Near pretty nigh gone – warn’t I, mates?”

      The others nodded.

      “Is the work below very hard?” said Dutch, quietly.

      “Well, no, sir, I don’t know as it’s much harder nor usual; but the copper’s heavy to move, and the way into the hold is littler nor usual; ain’t it, mates?”

      “Take off your suit,” said Dutch, after glancing at the men at the air-pump, and seeing that they were those he could trust.

      “It won’t fit you, sir,” said the man, surlily.

      “I’m the best judge of that,” said Dutch; “take it off instantly.”

      The man glanced at his companions, but seeing no help forthcoming from them, he began sulkily to take off the copper gorget and the india-rubber garments, with the heavy leaden-soled boots, which, with the help of the old sailor, Dutch slipped on with the ease of one accustomed to handle such articles; then fitting on the leaden weights – the chest and back piece – he took up the helmet, saw that the tube from the back was properly adjusted and connected with the air-pump, which he examined, and then turned to Captain Studwick —

      “You’ll see that no one touches the tube, Mr Studwick,” he said, in a low tone. “One of those fellows might feel disposed to tamper with it.”

      The captain nodded, and Dutch then lifted on the helmet, the rim of which fitted exactly to the gorget, had the screws tightened, and then, with the old sailor and the captain himself seeing that the tube and signalling cords were all right, the pump began to work, and Dutch walked heavily to the side, took hold of the rungs of the ladder, and began to descend.

      In a few moments his head had disappeared, and his blurred figure could be made out going down into the darkness, while a constant stream of exhausted air which escaped from the helmet-valve kept rising in great bubbles. The pump clanked as its pistons worked up and down, and the sailors and divers – the former eagerly and the latter in a sulky fashion – approached the side and looked over.

      Captain Studwick himself held the signal-line, and answered the calls made upon him for more or less air by communicating with the men at the pump; and so the minutes passed, during which time, by the necessity for lengthening out the tube and cord, it was evident that Dutch was going over the submerged vessel in different directions. All had gone so well that the captain had relaxed somewhat in his watchfulness, when he was brought back to attention by a violent jerking of the cord.

      “More air!” he shouted – “quick!” just as there was a yell, a scuffle, and the man Tolly struggled into the middle of the deck, wrestling hard with a black sailor, who backed away from him, and then, running forward like a ram, struck his adversary in the chest and sent him rolling over into the scuppers.

      By this time the signalling had ceased, and Dutch was evidently moving about at his ease.

      “What was that?” said Captain Studwick, sternly, as the man Tolly got up and made savagely at the black, but was restrained by the strong arm of the old sailor, Oakum.

      Tolly and the black both spoke excitedly together, and not a word was to be understood.

      “Here you, Mr Tolly, what is it?” cried the captain. “Hold your tongue, ’Pollo.”

      “I bash him head, sah. I – ”

      “Hold your tongue, sir,” said the captain. “What was it?”

      “I happened to look round, sir, and found this stupid nigger standing on the tube, and when I dragged him off he struck me.”

      “Who you call nigger, you ugly, white, fat-head tief?” shouted the black, savagely. “I bash your ugly head.”

      “Silence!” cried the captain.

      “It great big lie, sah,” cried the black. “I turn roun’ and see dat ugly tief set him hoof on de tubum, and top all de wind out of Mass’ Dutch Pugh, and I scruff him.”

      “You infamous – ”

      “Silence!” roared the captain. “Stand back, both of you. Oakum, see that no one goes near the tube. Haul in gently there; he’s coming up.”

      This was the case, for in another minute the great round top of the helmet was seen to emerge from the water; its wearer mounted the side, and was soon relieved of his casque, displaying the flushed face of Dutch, who looked sharply round.

      “Some one must have stepped on the tube,” he said. “Who was it?”

      “It lies between these two,” said Captain Studwick, pointing to the pair of adversaries.

      “It was the nigger, sir,” said Tolly.

      “No, sah, ’sure you, sah. I too much sense, sah, to put um foot on de tubum. It was dis fellow, sah,” said the black, with dignity.

      “I presume it was an accident,” said Dutch, quietly. Then, turning to the divers – “I have been down, as you see, my men. The apparatus is in perfect working order, the water clear, the light good, and the copper easy to get at. Begin work directly. If anything goes wrong, it is the fault of your management.”

      “But ain’t this black fellow to be punished?” began the man Tolly.

      “Mr John Tolly, you are foreman of these divers,” said Dutch quietly, “and answerable to Mr Parkley for their conduct. If one of the sailors deserves punishment, that is Captain Studwick’s affair.”

      For a moment there was dead silence, then ’Pollo spoke.

      “I not a sailor, sah; I de ship cook. You mind I not put de cork in de tubum, Mass’ Tolly, next time you go down.”

      “There! do you hear him?” cried Tolly. “Who’s going down to be threatened like that?”

      “Yah, yah, yah!” laughed the black. “Him great coward, sah. He not worf notice.”

      Then he turned and walked forward, while Tolly resumed his suit, vacated for him by Dutch, their helmets were put on by two of the men, and diving commenced, Dutch remaining on board till it was time to cease, and having the satisfaction of seeing a goodly portion of the copper hauled on the deck of the schooner, the divers fastening ropes round the ingots, which were drawn up by the sailors.

      “That was a malicious trick, of course,” said Dutch to the captain while Tolly was below.

      “I’m afraid it was,” said the captain,