‘I – I read th’ writings, but … but what do we first?’
‘I’m sorry, but you’re in charge. You’ll have to-’
‘Bugger it, Tom! Don’t top it the gent wi’ me now – I’m askin’, mate!’
Kydd grimaced. By insisting on keeping his distance he was pushing his old friend into public humiliation or worse. There was no lack of courage in Stirk’s stout-hearted character, but Kydd as an officer was trained in the cool analysis of a situation to its elements and the devising of a course of action to meet it.
He gave a friendly pat on Stirk’s shoulder. ‘You’re in charge, Toby, sure enough – but if I were you, I’d set a kedge and stream killicks out to each side, then rig a stayed traveller and purchase between, so …’
In an hour they were ready. The two boats lay thirty feet apart with shared hoisting gear and were held in place by anchors spread to the four quarters.
The huge bulk of the barrel lay along the deck of Maid ready for swaying out into the cold green depths. Its copper staying bands and glass eyes flashed in the sun and the varnish of the new timbering shone gaily. To its underside was now clamped the massive black-painted long lead weight that had been the other load.
‘We’ll dip th’ beast in, see if it leaks,’ Stirk decided.
All hatches and stopcocks were closed, according to the list. Then, with curt seamanlike orders, he had it suspended at the right angle and began lowering.
‘I make no warranty, Mr Paine. None at all,’ Meares said, his hands wringing. ‘We filled it with water overnight to test it, but in the sea, well, it might be different, is all.’
The barrel touched the sea but as it was lowered deeper it twisted and writhed, refusing to go further, heaving and bobbing half submerged.
In despair Stirk turned to Kydd in appeal. ‘It don’t want to,’ he croaked.
‘And neither should it, Toby. There’s nobody aboard. Should you weigh it down heavier with something?’
A body’s weight of anything that could be found was stuffed inside and it was lowered again – this time to sink obediently below the waves. Every eye followed it until the diminished shape faded from view in the depths with nothing left to tell of its existence but the taut ropes plunging straight down.
In silence it was raised again, the squeal of the block sheaves startling in the quiet, until its glistening bulk broke surface.
Meares pressed forward gingerly and worked the stopcock. A runnel of water dribbled out, then ceased. It had not leaked. Hatches were opened and the barrel was cleared. There was now every reason for the first dive to take place. All turned to Stirk.
He paused, then threw back his shoulders and marched to the main hatch as if to his execution. At the opening he hesitated, glancing back over his shoulder, then to the heaving water. For a long moment he stared out, his face working.
‘Can’t do it!’ he burst out, in a hoarse cry, looking round with a face of blind horror. ‘Not in there, f ’r Chrissakes. I can’t!’
Shocked, the waiting crew drew back, confused.
Kydd felt for the man but tried to encourage him. ‘Toby, you have to. It’s your duty.’
Stirk stared at him wildly.
Kydd realised he must have a horror of confined spaces – and there would be nothing more calculated to bring him to the edge of madness than to be hammered shut into an underwater coffin. ‘Don’t worry, Toby. It’s really your job to be in charge, not go diving. We’ll ask Laddie to go down and get the gold. Right?’
‘S-sorry, Mr Paine. It’s m’ arm, like. Been gripin’ me an’ it wouldn’t be right if ’n I couldn’t haul in the cobbs, leaving ’em all lying there, like.’
‘Jeb?’ The younger man shook his head mutely, his face chalky white.
Kydd turned finally to Meares. ‘So it looks as if-’
‘Not me! On my life, not me!’
‘But if it’s not you, then-’
‘It’s your share.’ He gulped. ‘Supply the boats – and that means crew as well! One o’ you goes down!’
Chapter 20
It was the end of the adventure. So close and …
Kydd shared their terror of the unknown, but this was a unique chance to enter an underwater world, the other dimension of the sea.
What lay below? Reason led one way, myth and fantasy another, but if he went down in the diving engine he would find out. ‘So it appears it shall be myself,’ he found himself saying.
Stirk came over, his face set. He took Kydd’s hand and shook it, looking deep into his eyes. ‘I won’t forget this of ye, Tom. Never!’
Twice they went through routines, including communications, then Kydd challenged them to repeat every one back. When he was satisfied he indicated he was ready.
Laddie had the checklist up. ‘Oil!’
Kydd stripped to shirt and trousers and was well soused in train oil before he was helped up to the main hatch. With mixed dread and excitement he let himself be fed into the contrivance, moving down into the dark recesses with only the bright discs of the windows ahead to relieve it. He reached them, just remembering to ease his arms one at a time into the leather ports before he felt his legs held, then secured with straps as he manoeuvred to get the windows each side of his chin directly in his line of sight.
Within the engine it was cool and damp, yet his arms outside were feeling the morning sun – it was a disturbing sensation, but there were things to do. He felt the side of the barrel to the right for the cord that was his communication to the surface.
A double thump on the barrel was a question. He was as comfortable as he was going to be so he slapped the side twice in return.
There was a rattling and heavy thunks as the main hatch was closed, then the cocks. He was sealed in.
The lurch as the engine was raised caught him by surprise. Suspended full-length and tilted down he saw through the windows the deck under him move away to be replaced with a view of green waves dancing in sunlight. The transit stopped with a swing and, with wildly beating heart, he watched the surface close with his gaze until suddenly the glass eyes met it. In an instant his world changed to a dull blue-green immensity.
He was conscious that his arms were submerged and impulsively he waved them across his vision. They seemed pale and feeble in the eerie light, not his own, and at the neats-leather seals he felt an uncomfortable constriction. Once again he felt for the cord that was his only connection to the world he had left. Vague particles flitted upwards as the engine sank further, and fearfully his eyes searched for meaning in the vastness all around. The cold was rapidly clamping in – no doubt why he was smeared with oil.
A dim shape flicked in and out of existence at the corner of his vision and his heart began a manic bumping, made worse when a sudden deafening crack and prolonged creaking sounded as the timbers took up under the pressure. Then, without warning, he became aware of a rumpled grey plain under him, stretching away into a blurred nothingness in every direction.
The bottom of the sea! He was living and breathing in the kingdom of the fishes … and, dare he admit, mermaids and all of Neptune’s creatures? Kydd held his breath at the stark wonder of it, and knew he would never forget the moment as long as he lived.
Descending slowly he saw it take form and colour – a drab silty undersea moorland with the bulk of rocks protruding from the side, covered with the green and brown of sea-growths and in the central plain suggestive hummocks and rises as far as the eye could see.
Almost in a panic as the seabed rose quickly in the last few feet he remembered to tug the cord to indicate lowering was to stop.
The barrel ceased its descent abruptly and he was left suspended and swaying gently just a foot or two clear of the ground. He saw his hands reach out – and touch the bottom. He could feel it: soft silt that rose up in clouds and within it a hard object – but it was only a small shellfish that promptly clamped shut in his fingers.