by Carol Norton
CHAPTER VII.
SPONGING.
THE morning sun rose over a scene of bustle and activity. From thehundred schooners strung out two or three hundred diving boats withsails hoisted and engines chugging.
The young officers were up and away with the earliest.
"Go slow," Captain Westfield cautioned them as they stepped aboardtheir craft. "Keep your eyes open an' learn all you can. Don't give anyorders unless they are absolutely needed. But if you have to give theman order make them obey it, don't let them trifle with you. You cantake Manuel along if you want to, I reckon I can manage to get alongwithout him."
But the boys declined the offer. They had both taken a great dislike tothe suave, smiling Greek.
The Captain had given their crew general instructions before they leftthe schooner and the young officers had but little to do but signify bywaves of their hands which direction they wished to go.
All places looked alike to the inexperienced boys, and as soon as theircraft was a quarter of a mile from the schooner, Charley signed to hiscrew to anchor and proceed with their work.
The divers at once prepared for their descent to the bottom. The leadwas first hove to find out the depth of the water, which proved tobe about thirty-five feet. Before donning their waterproof suits,the divers tested the air pump carefully and examined the air hoseminutely, for upon these two things their lives would depend when oncethey sank beneath the surface. While they were putting on the strangelooking suits and heavy leaded shoes, the crew slung short laddersover the sides. The divers put on their headpieces last of all, thesewere large globe-shaped coverings of metal with two heavy glasses infront through which to see. But two divers were to descend at a time.Their places would be taken by two others at the end of two hours,which is about as long as one can safely work at a time beneath thesurface. Those in reserve assisted their companions in adjusting theheavy headpieces. As soon as the helmets were on they screwed in theair hose, and connected the other ends to the pumps. A line by which tolower and raise them was fastened around each diver's body and he wasthen assisted onto the ladder, for it was almost impossible for them tomove in their cumbersome suits and lead shoes. As soon as they had beenhelped to the lowest step on the ladder, each was given a large basketto which a long line had been fastened, and they were slowly and gentlylowered to the bottom.
The young officers watched their operations with eager interest.What impressed them most was the vigilant care shown by the diversremaining on board. One took charge of the tub in which the air hosewas coiled and paid it out carefully as the diver sank, the other heldthe life-line instantly ready for the jerks which would signal to himthe wishes of the one below. Not once did either's eyes shift or hisattention waver from his task.
"It's easy to see that this is a dangerous business," Walter remarked.
"Yes," his chum agreed, "I am beginning to see that Mr. Williams wasright when he said sponging was a man's game. It certainly takes nerveto descend like those divers have, knowing that there is nothingbetween them and death but that little air hose. But have you noticedhow they are treating that strange handsome fellow? They all seem to beafraid to have him near."
The mysterious sailor had approached the men working the air pumps,apparently with the purpose of helping with the pumping, but thepumpers drove him away with menacing gestures and upraised fists. Hemoved over near the coiled air hose but the diver in charge of that methim with a torrent of fiercely-uttered words and he slunk dejectedlyforward, and, seating himself by the mast, buried his face in hishands.
"Poor chap," Walter remarked, "he seems to be hated by the whole crew.I wonder what is the reason."
"We will find out, I guess, when we meet up with Mr. Williams again,"his chum replied. "He will likely know, or be able to find out quicklyfrom some of his crew. But look, we are about to see our first sponges."
There had been a couple of quick jerks on the life-line. The diverholding it called to one of the crew who seized the line that had beenattached to the basket, and began hauling it carefully in hand overhand.
The boys leaned over the side, eager for the first glimpse of theirfuture cargo. When the basket came into view they both uttered anexclamation of disgust and disappointment.
Instead of bright, clean, yellow sponges with which they were familiar,the basket was heaped with what looked like huge lumps of dirty mud.
The man dumped the contents out on deck and lowered the basket downagain.
"What greenies we are," Charley said as he glanced at his chum'screstfallen face. "We might have known if we had stopped to think, thatsponges have to be cleaned and cured before they look like those we sawon shore. I expect that pile is worth a lot of money in spite of itsunattractive appearance."
Five times did the basket appear loaded to the brim before the divers'two hour spell below expired. As soon as their time was up they werehauled aboard, their suits removed and the other two took their places.
"Whew, but I am getting hungry," Walter exclaimed as noon time drewnear, "and we came off from the schooner without bringing a lunch withus."
"I am glad we did," Charley said. "It's all right having our mealsregular when we are on board the schooner and out of sight of the crew,but it would hardly seem right to eat now before these hungry fellows.I guess we can stand it to go without dinner of they can stand it to gowithout both dinner and breakfast. Besides, I don't believe I could eatany lunch if we had it. Whew, but that smell is getting awful."
The hot sun was getting in its work on the rapidly increasing pile ofsponges on deck. Adhering to them were multitudes of muscles and littlefish which were beginning to send forth a fearful stench.
"I am beginning to realize that a sponger's life is anything but a bedof roses," Walter laughed. "It's easy to understand now why they onlyeat one meal a day."
The novelty of the diving operations soon wore off and the boys, topass the time, busied themselves with an attempt to learn something ofthe Greek language. They selected the engineer for their teacher. Hewas a young fellow with an intelligent, good-humored face and seemed totake great interest in their efforts. Touching different parts of theboat and engine the boys repeated the English names for them. The youngfellow grasped the idea instantly and repeated the names in Greek,laughing heartily over their attempts to pronounce the words after him.
In this manner the time passed quickly and pleasantly and the lads weredelighted with the rapid progress they made.
"At this rate we will be able to speak the language a little in aweek's time," Charley declared. "I'm--" but he never finished thesentence.
From around them rose cries that brought the lads springing to theirfeet.
The crew were all crowded against the rail staring as if fascinatedover the side, while the diver holding one of the life-lines washauling it in with feverish energy.
As the boys sprang to the rail, the diver's headpiece appeared abovethe surface One glance, and they understood the reason for the suddencommotion--from the metal helmet dangled a short piece of severed airhose.
The luckless man was quickly dragged aboard, the head-piece quicklyremoved, and his rubber clothing cut away, but his eyes were closed andhis face purple--he was dead. A long, weird, prolonged wailing camefrom his shipmates which arose and fell strangely, like the strains ofthe mournful death march.
The two chums gazed at each other with pale, horror-stricken faces.
"Poor fellow," Walter murmured, "His life went out like a candle in agale. Alive one minute, dead the next. What could have cut that hose?"
"Chafed against a sharp branch of coral or bitten in two by a shark,"Charley replied, sadly. "Well, I guess it means the last of oursponging, the other divers will hardly want to go down after such anaccident, and I don't blame them."
But, to his amazement, as soon as the wailing chant ceased, one of theremaining divers began coolly to prepare to take the dead man's place.
"My, but those fellows have got nerve," he declared, adm
iringly, buthe stopped the man as he began to put on his diving suit and by signsordered the crew to get up anchor and return to the schooner.
"It's only a couple of hours to dark and we have had enough for one dayanyway," he remarked to his chum.
When the diving boat reached the schooner his shipmates prepared thedead man for burial. The body was sewed up in stout canvas and a pieceof iron fastened to it. It was then gently lowered over the side andsank slowly beneath the waves.
With its disappearance all vestige of gloom disappeared from the crew.The dead man's scanty belongings were brought forth and auctioned offto the various bidders, and an hour after the crew were chatting andlaughing with each other as cheerfully as ever.
"Mr. Williams was right, this is a man's game, and a game for rough,fearless men only," Walter remarked thoughtfully, for a second time.