Dutch the Diver; Or, A Man's MistakeFenn, George Manville
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Dutch the Diver; Or, A Man's Mistake
Fenn, George Manville
Adventure stories; Deep diving -- Fiction; Treasure troves -- Fiction
It was no tottering walk of a feeble man, but the quick, soft cat-like
tread of some one full of life and energy, and bent upon some set
design. And so it was; for the time for the execution of the fell
purpose upon which his mind had been fixed ever since he had lain there,
feeble at first from the shock, but daily growing stronger and
meditating revenge, had arrived.
He was too well acquainted with the routine of the schooner not to be
fully aware of what he could do, and while the man bent drowsily over
the wheel, and Oakum and another were on the look-out in the bows, he
took the falls in his hands, and cleverly let the boat on the davits
glide down and kiss the softly heaving wave almost without a sound, but
not until he had secured the painter to one of the pins, after which he
slid down the falls with the activity of a boy, unhooked the boat, and
climbed back on deck.
Next he paused to listen for a few moments in the darkness, and then
with cat-like step descended into the portion of the vessel which had
been set apart for the store connected with the diving apparatus.
It was evident that he had often been here before, as he seemed to know
where everything was kept; and after lifting down the large jar of the
galvanic battery, which, from the care with which he took it was
evidently half-full of acid, he bore it to the steps, and then placing
his hand on a particular shelf he took down a canister of dynamite
cartridges and placed it against the bulkhead.
This done he felt along the shelf to where, days before, he had placed a
large reel of thin silk-covered wire, and tying it to the loop of metal
in one of the cartridges, he backed slowly out of the cabin, unwinding
the wire as he went till he reached the deck, where he continued his way
to the side, and lowered the reel into the boat.
The next thing was the awkward jar of the battery; but his plans had all
been made, and with a piece of cord he lowered it down carefully,
raising it again and again until he felt that it rested safely in the
bottom of the boat.
Water was already there, and provisions that he had been storing up for
days; and now the first sound that had left his lips escaped in the form
of a low demoniacal chuckle as, lightly raising himself upon the
bulwark, he sat there for a moment, and he shook his fist in the
direction of the cabin.
"Curse you!" he muttered. "You thought to outwit me, but you did not
know your enemy. Sink! perish with the silver that carries you down,
for revenge is sweet even at such a cost."
He swung himself down by the ropes hanging from one of the davits, and
there felt that he had outwitted himself for the boat was not beneath
his feet, and he was getting nearly exhausted by his efforts.
"I shall have to let go," he muttered; "and in the darkness I shall
never reach the boat again."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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