Chapter 27

A FUEL PROBLEM

A few days after his visit to the factory, Lister sat one morning under a tarpaulin they had stretched across the hulk. The paint on the canvas smelt as if it burned, but the awning gave some shade and one could not front the sun on the open deck. The sea breeze had not sprung up and dazzling reflections played about the oily surface of the swell. In one place, where the shadow of the wreck fell, the water was a cool, dull green.

A row of bubbles slowly crossed the belt of shade, stopped and made a frothy patch, and then lengthened out. A flexible pipe slipped across the edge of the open gangway, and Lister felt the line he held. The line was slack and he knew the diver needed nothing. Two half-naked men, their skins shining with sweat, turned the air-pumps handles, and the rattle of the cranks cut the dull rumble of the surf. Brown, sitting on a tool-box, studied a plan of the wreck Cartwright had given him, and Lister thought it typical Cartwright had got the plan. The old fellow was very keen.

By and by Brown looked up and indicated the panting men.

"We want colored boys for this job and must get a gang. I expect you noted Montgomery declared his lot were Kroos. The Kroos are hefty boys and pretty good sailors, but they come from Liberia and there are regulations about their employment. You must engage them on a contract, hold yourself accountable for their return and so forth. All the same my notion is, Montgomery didn't mean to help."

"Then we had better try the native headman he talked about."

Brown smiled, "I've no use for bushmen, but didn't see much use in telling Montgomery I'd been on the Coast before. For one thing, his boys were not all Kroos. You know the Kroo by his blue forehead-stripe, but I saw two or three with another mark. Thought them Gold Coast Fantis, and a Fanti fisherman is useful on board ship. In a day or two I'm going back to see."

Lister lighted his pipe and weighed the captain's remarks. On the whole, he agreed that it did not look as if Montgomery meant to help. The fellow was hospitable, but hospitality that implied his pressing liquor on the captain and making the sailors drunk had drawbacks. Brown had used control, but Lister doubted if his resolution would stand much strain. Then, although Montgomery's story about the need for his being on the spot was plausible, it was, perhaps, strange the head of a merchant house would stop for some time at a factory where his clerks died. However, now Lister thought about it, Montgomery did not state if he had been there long.

"The fellow was generous with his liquor and his boy can mix a cocktail," he remarked.

Brown grinned. "On the Coast, they're all generous with liquor. Montgomery knows this; but I've a notion you are wondering whether he knows me. I reckon not, but he knows the kind of skipper you generally meet in the palm oil trade. Still the type's going out; now ship-owners pay higher, they get better men. In fact, I'm something of a survival from the old school."

He picked up the plan and Lister thought about Montgomery. The man was ill and highly-strung, but this was not strange. The factory was rather a daunting spot; reeking with foul smells and haunted by a sense of gloom. Lister thought one might get morbid and imaginative if one stopped there long. Yet he rather liked Montgomery; there was something attractive about him. Perhaps if they had met in brighter surroundings, when the other's health and mood were normal, they might have been friends. Now, however, he doubted and saw Brown was not satisfied.

The line he held jerked and he signed to the men at the pump. One kept the cranks turning; the other went to the top of a ladder lashed to the hulk's side. The bubbles moved away from the wreck and broke the surface in a fixed, sparkling patch. The diver was coming up and Lister presently helped him on board. When they had taken off his copper helmet and unfastened his canvas he leaned against the pump and breathed hard.

"Well?" said Brown, after waiting a minute or two for the man to get back his normal breathing.

"She lies with a sharp list; sand's high up her starboard bilge. Engine-room doors jambed, but I found the stokehold grating and got some way down the ladder. Sand's washed down and buried the starboard bunkers. To clear out the stuff will be a long job."

"Packed hard?"

The diver nodded. "Like cement! I reckon the pump won't move it."

Lister understood the captain's frown. Sometimes the sand that enters a sunken vessel solidifies, with the pressure of surf or tide, into a mass that one can hardly dig out. This, however, was not all.

"Starboard bunkers buried?" Brown resumed. "They were pretty full. When she left Forcados she had a list to port, and they trimmed her by using the coal on that side first. Well, it's awkward! I reckoned on getting the fuel!"

"There is some coal on the port side," said Lister.

"If Cartwright's plan and notes are accurate, there's not enough to see us out. The wrecking pump will burn a lot," Brown rejoined and turned to the diver. "Did you see any sharks?"

"One big fellow; he hung about as if he was curious and I didn't like him near my air-pipe, but he left me alone. The pulps you meet in warm seas are worse than sharks. When I was down at the Spanish boat, crawling through the holes in her broken hull was nervous work. Once I saw an arm as thick as mine waving in the dark, and started for the ladder. We blew in that piece of her bilge with dynamite before I went on board again. However, when I've cleared up a bit, I'll take Mr. Lister down."

The diver got into the boat and rowed to the tug, but the others stopped in the shade of the awning. They had brought a spare diving dress, and before they tried to lift the wreck Lister must find out if Cartwright's supposition was correct, because if Cartwright had found the proper clew the job would be easier. For all that, Lister frankly shrank from the preparatory exercise. Diving in shark-haunted water had not much charm.

In the morning they hauled the tug alongside the wreck and at low-water rigged a derrick and opened the fore hatch. The palm kernels had rotted and a horrible pulpy mass, swollen by fermentation, rose nearly to the ledge. It was glutinous and too thick for the pump to lift, since the water that filled the vessel drained away through the broken plates as the tide sank. Brown, kneeling on the hatch-coaming, knitted his brows.

"The stuff's water-borne, forced up by its buoyancy," he said. "We may find it looser as we get down. In the meantime, suction's no use; we have got to break it out by hand. Start your winch and we'll fill the skip."

Lister signaled a man on board the tug, the winch rattled, and a big iron bucket, hanging by a wire rope, dropped into the hold. A gang of men climbed across the ledge and began to cut the slimy mass with spades. The surface heaved beneath them like a treacherous bog and the smell was horrible. Now and then a spade made an opening for the gases to escape and the nauseated men were driven back. For all that, they filled the skip and the swinging derrick carried the load across the deck and tilted it overboard.

The heat was almost unbearable, the reflections from the oily swell and wet deck hurt one's eyes, and Lister noted that the deck did not dry until the sea breeze began to blow. The wind brought a faint coolness and drove back the smell, but the men's efforts presently got slack. The labor was exhausting and one must wear some clothes because the sun burned one's skin. They held out until the rising water drove them from the hatch and when they went back to the tug Brown looked thoughtful.

"The men can't keep it up; the thing's impossible! A week like this would knock out the lot," he said. "We must use native boys and I'm going to get some."

In the morning Lister took his first diving lesson, and when the big copper helmet was screwed on and the air began to swell his canvas clothes, he shrank from the experiment. The load of metal he carried was crushing, he could hardly drag his weighted boots across the deck, and at the top of the ladder he hesitated, watching the bubbles that marked the spot where the diver had vanished. Then he remembered his promise to Barbara and cautiously went down.

The dazzling sunshine vanished, a wave of misty green closed above the helmet glass, hot compressed air blew about his head, and his ear-drums began to throb. Then lead and copper lost their weight; he felt buoyant and clung to the steps. At the bottom he was for a few moments afraid to let go, but an indistinct, monstrous object came out of the strange green gloom and beckoned him on. Lister went, making an effort for balance, because he now felt ridiculously light. Then the reflections were puzzling, for the light came and went with the rise and fall of the swell. Yet he could see and he followed the diver until they stopped opposite the wreck's port bilge. Her side went up like a dark wall, covered by waving weed.

Lister's head ached and his breathing was labored, but not much pressure was needed to keep out the shallow water and the diver had promised to warn him when they had stayed long enough. He forced himself to examine the plate the other indicated. _Arcturus_ was a butt-strapped vessel and a number of the straps had burst. Plates were smashed and some of the holes were large, but in places the iron was drilled and in others patches had been bolted on. The salvage company had done part of this work and he thought it possible to make the damage good. If they could stop the remaining holes, the big pump ought to throw out the water; but Cartwright had talked about another opening and this would be awkward to reach.

Signing the diver to go on, he followed him round the vessel's stern. The sand on the other side was high and one could climb on board, but Lister shrank from the dark alleyway that led to the engine-room. For all that, he went in and saw the diver had opened the jambed door. When he reached the ledge a flash from the other's electric lamp pierced the gloom and he tried to forget his throbbing head and looked about.

Sparkling bubbles from his and the diver's helmets floated straight up to the skylights, along which they glided and vanished through a hole in the glass. The water, moving gently with the pulse of the swell, broke the beam of light and objects it touched were distorted and magnified. The top of the big low-pressure cylinder looked gigantic, and the thick columns appeared to bend. Long weed clung to the platforms, from which iron ladders went down, but so far as Lister could distinguish, all below was buried in sand.

He had seen enough. To clear the engines would be a heavy task, and one must work in semi-darkness amidst a maze of ladders, gratings, and machinery. To keep signal-line and air-pipe free from entanglement looked impossible, but perhaps when they had broken the surface the pump would lift the sand. Anyhow, he was getting dizzy and his breath was labored.

He touched the diver and they went back along the alleyway and round the vessel's stern. Lister was desperately anxious to reach the ladder and it cost him an effort to use control. As he went up his dress got heavy and he was conscious of his weighted boots. The pressure on his lungs lessened, he was dazzled by a strong light, and feeling the edge of the hulk's deck, he got his knee on her covering-board and lurched forward. Somebody took off his helmet and lifted the weight from his chest. He shut his eyes and for a few moments lay on the deck.

"Well?" said Brown presently. "You reached the engine-room?"

Lister nodded. "She's badly sanded up. It's plain we shan't get much coal from the starboard bunkers until we can lift her to an even keel."

"That will be long," Brown rejoined and pondered. "We must have coal," he resumed. "If I can't find another plan, you must take the tug to Sierra Leone and bring a load; but we'll let it go just now. The first thing is to hire some negro laborers, and as soon as I can leave the wreck I'll try again."