Under the Waves: Diving in Deep Waters, R. M. Ballantyne [sight word books .txt] 📗
- Author: R. M. Ballantyne
Book online «Under the Waves: Diving in Deep Waters, R. M. Ballantyne [sight word books .txt] 📗». Author R. M. Ballantyne
Sometimes in private life one hears a voice so sweet, so thrilling, with a “something” so powerful in it, that one feels, amid other sensations of pleasure, great satisfaction to think that none of the public singers in the world could “bat that” if they were to try their best, and that few of them could equal it!
Such a voice was that of our heroine. It drew towards her the soul, body, and spirit of the music-lovers who listened. Of course we do not deny that there were some who could not be drawn thus. There were a few, among the smoky crystals, for whom a draw of the pipe or a mildly drawn pot of bitter beer had greater charms than sweet sounds, however melting. With the exceptions of these, nearly all who chanced to be within hearing drew near to the musical group, and listened while that most, beautiful of songs was being warbled in tones not loud but inexpressibly pathetic.
Among the listeners was our friend Edgar Berrington. Seated, as usual, in front of the great crank, with bare muscular arms folded on his broad chest and a dark frown on his forehead, he riveted his eyes on the crank as if it were the author of all his anxieties. Suddenly the terminating lines, “I cannot sing the old songs, they are too dear to me,” rising above the din of machinery, floated gently down through iron lattice-work, beams, rods, cranks, and bars, and smote upon his ear.
Like a galvanised man he sprang on his legs and stood erect. Then, if we may say so, like a human rocket, he shot upwards and stood on the margin of the crowd. Being head and shoulders over most of them he observed a clear space beside the singer. The night was dark, features could not be discerned, even forms were not easily recognisable. He glided into the open space, and silently but promptly sat down on the deck beside Aileen. His elbow even touched one of the folds of her garment. He went straight into paradise and remained there!
As for Aileen, if she observed the action at all, she probably set it down to the enthusiasm of a more than usually musical member of the ship’s crew.
While she was still dwelling on the last note, a grinding sound was heard and a slight tremor felt that not only stopped the song abruptly but checked the applause that was ready to burst from every lip and hand. Edgar vanished from the spot where he sat quite as quickly as he had appeared, and in a moment was at his station. The captain’s voice was heard on the bridge. The signal was given to stop the engines—to back them—to stop again. Eager inquiries followed—“What’s that? Did you feel it? Hear it? Could it be a rock? Impossible, surely?” No one could answer with knowledge or authority, save those who were too busy to be spoken to. Accustomed as they all were for many weeks past to the ceaseless motion of the engines, the sudden stoppage had a strange and solemnising effect on most of the passengers. Presently the order was given to steam ahead, and once more they breathed more freely on hearing again the familiar grinding of the screw.
To the anxious inquiries afterwards made of him, the captain only smiled and said he could not tell what it was—perhaps it might have been a piece of wreck. “But it did not feel like that, captain,” objected one of the passengers, who, having frequently been to sea before, was regarded as being semi-nautical; “it was too like a touch on something solid. You’ve heard, I suppose, of coral reefs growing in places where none are marked on our charts?”
“I have,” answered the captain drily.
“Might it not be something of the kind?”
“It might,” replied the captain.
“We are not far from the coast of China, are we?” asked the semi-nautical passenger.
“Not very far.”
Seeing that the captain was not disposed to be communicative, the semi-nautical passenger retired to persecute and terrify some of the ladies with his surmises. Meanwhile the well was sounded and a slight increase of water ascertained, but nothing worth speaking of, and the pumps were set to work.
The anxiety of the passengers was soon allayed, everything going on as smoothly as before. The evening merged into night. The moon rose slowly and spread a path of rippling silver from the ship to the horizon. The various groups began to un-crystallise. Sleepy ones went below and melted away somehow. Sleepless ones went to their great panacea, smoke. Lights were put out everywhere save where the duties of the ship required them to burn continually. At last the latest of the sleepless turned in, and none were wakeful through the iron palace except the poor youth who mentally measured the distance from home, and the officers and men on duty. Among the latter was Edgar Berrington, who, standing at his accustomed post down in his own iron depths, pondered the events of the evening while he watched the motions of the great crank and listened to the grinding of the screw.
It turned out, on investigation, that, whatever the object by which the vessel had been touched, some degree of injury had been done to her iron-plating, for the pumps were found to be insufficient to prevent the rising of water in the hold. This was a serious matter, because although the rise was very slow, it was steady, and if not checked would sooner or later sink the ship. Everything that could be done was attempted in order to discover and stop the leak, but without success.
Fortunately it happened that the Warrior had among her other goods a quantity of diving apparatus on board, consigned to a firm in Hong-Kong that had lost valuable property in a wreck, and meant to attempt the recovery of it by means of divers. The men had gone out by a previous vessel, but their dresses, having been accidentally delayed, had been sent after them in the Warrior. Bethinking himself of these dresses, the captain conceived that he was justified, in the circumstances, in making temporary use of them; but he was disappointed to find, on inquiry, that not a man of his ordinary crew had ever seen a diving-dress put on, or its attendant air-pumps worked. In these circumstances he sent for the chief engineer.
Edgar Berrington was busy about some trifling repairs to the machinery when the message reached him. The place being very hot, he was clad only in shirt and trousers, with a belt round his waist—a by no means unbecoming costume for a well-made figure! His shirt-sleeves were rolled up to the shoulders, displaying a pair of very muscular and elegantly moulded arms—such as Hercules might have been pleased with, and Apollo would not have disdained. His hands were black and oily, and his face was similarly affected.
Expecting to meet the captain at the entrance to his domains, Edgar merely rolled down his sleeves, and seized a bundle of waste with which he hastily wiped his hands and face, thereby drawing on the latter, which had previously been spotty, a series of varied streaks and blotches that might have raised the envy of a Querikoboo savage. But the captain was not where he expected to find him, and on looking aft he saw him on the quarter-deck in converse with one of the passengers. Edgar would rather not have appeared in public in such guise, but being in haste to return to the work from which he had been called, he pulled on a light linen jacket and forage-cap, and walked quickly aft. To his horror he saw Aileen seated on a basket-work easy-chair close to the captain. It was too late, however, to retreat, for the latter had already observed him. Fortunately Aileen was deeply engaged with a book. Edgar quickly advanced and took such a position that his back was turned to her.
“Excuse my appearance, sir,” he said in a low voice, touching his cap to the captain; “I am in the midst of a job that requires to be—”
“No matter,” interrupted the captain, with a laugh, “you look very well in your war-paint. We’ll excuse you.”
Attracted by the laugh, Aileen looked up at the tall form in front of her.
“What a very handsome figure!” she whispered to her bosom-friend, who sat beside her reading.
The bosom-friend put her book in front of her mouth and whispered—
“Yes, very. I wish he would turn round and show his face.”
But her wish was not granted, for the captain walked slowly forward in conversation with the “very handsome figure,” which obstinately,—we might almost say carefully,—kept its back turned towards them.
Great was the satisfaction of the captain when he found not only that one of the subordinate engineers understood a good deal about diving, but that the chief himself was a diver! It was accordingly arranged that a descent should be made without delay. The dresses were got up and unpacked, and one was found suitable for a large man.
Soon the air-pumps were set up and rigged on deck. One of the sub-engineers was set to work them, with one of the crew, while another sub and an officer, having been previously instructed by our hero, were detailed to the important duty of holding the life-line and air-pipe. Thereafter the engines were stopped, and the dead-calm that followed,—that feeling of unnatural quietude to which we have referred elsewhere,—did more perhaps to arouse all the sleepers, readers, and dreamers on board, than if a cannon had been fired. Of course the descent of a diver over the side was a point of great interest to the passengers, coupled as it was with some anxiety as to the leak, of the existence of which all were fully aware, though only a select few had been informed of its serious nature—if not checked. They crowded round the apparatus therefore, and regarded its arrangement with the deepest interest.
When all was ready Edgar issued from the deck-cabin, in which he meant to dress, to take a final look at the air-pumps. In the flutter of excitement he had for one moment, and for the first time since the beginning of the voyage, totally forgotten the existence of Aileen. Now, she and Lintie, the Scottish maiden who sang so well, chanced to be looking with much interest at the helmet which lay on the deck, when his eye fell on them. At once he turned on his heel and retreated towards his cabin.
“That’s the man who is to go down, I believe,” observed one of the passengers, pointing to him.
Lintie looked up and saw his back.
“Oh!” she whispered to Aileen, “it is the very handsome man!”
“Is it?” replied Aileen, with indifference, for she was engrossed with the helmet just then.
Greatly perplexed as to how he should escape observation, poor Edgar began to dress—or, rather, to be dressed by his assistants,—delaying the operation as long as possible; but delay did not seem to increase his inventive powers, and could not prevent the completion of the process.
The guernsey, drawers, and outside stockings were drawn on, and Edgar’s brain worked the while like the great crank of his own engine; but no feasible plan of escape was evolved. Then the “crinoline” was drawn on, but it added no feminine sharpness to his wits, though it seriously modified and damaged the shape of his person. The crinoline, as we have said elsewhere, is seldom used except at great depths, where the pressure of water is excessive. It was put on Edgar at this time partly because it formed a portion of the dress, and partly because, his mind being preoccupied, he did not observe with sufficient care what his attendants were about.
After this came the shoulder-pad, and then the thick dress itself was drawn on, and the attendants hitched it up with difficulty over his spreading
Comments (0)