be in your hands.”

“That’s complimentary,” said Mr Parkley.

“It is true, sir,” said the Cuban, bowing.

“Very well, then,” said Mr Parkley, “we’ll begin by trusting one another fully. Well, Rasp, what is it now?”

“Here’s Sam Oakum just come from Barrport.”

“Well, have they got out all the copper?”

“Not a bit of it, for the men won’t go down.”

“Why?”

“Say the engine don’t supply enough air, and the receiver’s bust. Won’t go down, hany one on ’em.”

“Nonsense!”

“John Tolly’s dead or thereabouts.”

“Dead?”

“So Sam says.”

“Tut, tut, tut!” ejaculated Mr Parkley. “Always something wrong. Pugh, you’ll have to go down directly, and set an example, or I must. Tolly always comes up dead when he don’t like a job.”

“No, no, no!” exclaimed Mrs Pugh, leaping off to catch her husband by the arm. “He must never go down again. Promise me you will not go,” she cried, turning her ashy face up to his.

“But she is beautiful indeed!” muttered the Cuban.

“My darling,” whispered Dutch, “be a woman. There is no danger.”

“No danger!” she wailed. “Dutch, I’ve dreamed night after night of some terrible trouble, and it is this. You must not—must not go.”

“My darling,” he whispered. And, bending over her, he said a few words in her ear, which made her set her teeth firmly and try to smile, as she stood up clasping his hand.

“I will try,” she whispered—“try so hard.”

“I’m ready, Mr Parkley,” said the young man, hoarsely.

“That’s right, Pugh. Go and set matters square. I’ll see your wife safe back home.”

“I leave her to you,” said Dutch, in a low voice. “Good-bye, my darling, get back home. I’ll join you soon,” he whispered, and hurried out of the office.

But as he turned for a moment, it was to see the Cuban’s eyes fixed upon the trembling girl; while the goblinlike figures against the wall seemed to be nodding and gibbering at him, as if laughing at the troubles that assailed his breast.

“Off down to Barrport, Mr Pug?” said Rasp, as he stood in the outer office.

“Yes, instantly. Come, Oakum,” he said, to a rough-looking sailor, who stood hat in hand.

“Sharp’s the word, Mr Pug,” said Rasp; “but I say,” he continued, pointing with his thumb over his shoulder, “that foreign chap, I don’t like the looks o’ he.”

“I tell you what it is, sir,” said the rough-looking sailor, as he walked by Dutch Pugh’s side down to the station. “If I weer much along o’ that Rasp, it would soon come to a row.”

“Why, man?”

“’Cause he’s such a overbearing sort of a chap. He’s one of them kind as always thinks he’s skipper, and every one else is afore the mast. If he’d come aboard the ship and hailed me, I should ha’ ast him to sit down on the deck and handed him the bacco; but when I comes in he sits and stares at one orty like, and goes on taking his bacco, in a savage sorter way, up his nose, and never so much as says, ‘Have a pinch, mate,’ or the like.”

“You don’t know him, my man,” said Dutch, quietly.

“And don’t want to,” growled the old sailor. “I should just like to have him aboard our vessel for a month. I’d show him how to count ten, I know.”

“Well, there are more unlikely things,” said Dutch. “Perhaps he may sail with you.”

“What, are we going off, sir?” said the sailor, facing round.

“I don’t know yet,” said Dutch, “but it is possible.”

“I’m glad on it,” said the sailor, giving his canvas trousers a slap. “I’m tired o’ hanging about the coast as we do. All this diving work’s very well, but I want to get out in the blue again.”

“Tell me all about the upset over the work,” said Dutch. “Is Tolly bad?”

“Not he, sir,” chuckled the sailor. “I’d ha’ cured him with a rope’s-end in about two twos. Didn’t want to go down, and when the skipper turned rusty, and said as how he must, his mates takes sides with him, and say as Mr Parkley wants to send ’em to their death, and then the real sore place comes out—they wants a rise in the pay. ‘Well, then,’ says the skipper, ‘I’ll send for Mr Parkley;’ and then Tolly says in his blustering way, ‘Ah,’ 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