"Almost as big as a church boat back home," Lars murmured.
Per stared. Nya Nyckeln, the New Key, was huge, almost twice the size of most naval ships, and sitting on her slipway, her entire hull towered over the group of people, reducing them into insignificance.
"She's the size of Vasa?" he asked in a quiet voice.
"Yes," Sparre said. "Somewhat broader of beam and with a little more draft, but close enough."
"That's a tall order," Karl said. "Lifting her in one piece I mean."
"It can't be done," a nasal voice interjected. "It was tried and nothing good came out of it."
Per turned and looked into a florid face made no prettier by being drawn into a supercilious sneer.
"Fellows," Lieutenant Sparre said formally. "This is Captain Stolpeskott." He shrugged. "Sorry, Captain, but I am acting on orders from the admiral himself.
"Letting unlettered peasants aboard his majesty's ships," Stolpeskott sneered. "Well, I heard that it was that slimy frog Mazalet who's got the contract, so I probably shouldn't be too surprised. Drinking and whoring is all those papists are good for." He turned abruptly and disappeared toward the administrative buildings.
"I'd ask you to forgive the captain," Sparre said quietly. "His brother was on the Vasa."
"Of course," Per said looking along the stupendous hull. "Are those the gun ports?"
"Why, yes." Sparre smiled. "Of course, the guns are added last, usually with a crane after the ship is already in the water."
"Could we see a gun like those on Vasa?" Per asked. "One of those cranes would be interesting, too."
"Certainly." Sparre motioned towards another building. "We'll get there in a moment." He smiled in an odd way. "Maybe I should ask to be assigned as the naval liaison." He shrugged in an eloquent way. "Anything to get away from Stolpeskott."
It was an unusually quiet group of northerners that left the naval dockyard some hours later. Finally the enormity of their task had actually dented the confidence of Delsbo. Dented, but not broken. They were all there the next morning when the barge was towed out to the mast tops sticking out above the water.
It appeared to be getting to the Frenchman, too. He might be a swindler, but Fermin Mazalet was no cold-blooded murderer. "Are you certain about this?" he asked, looking at the bell. "Shouldn't we test her somewhere else first?"
"Where?" Per asked. "All shipping avoids this site. No one wants to run afoul of a sunken spar. That makes it a perfect spot." He grinned. "Also, as you've explained, it pays to advertise. No matter how it goes, people will know we've come this far, at least. The admiralty will see us out here."
"There is that," Mazalet said with a quick nod. "Funding might become less of a problem."
"Are we strapped for cash?" Karl asked.
"Not really," Mazalet said, "but it never hurts to spread the risk. I plan to sell a few shares in the salvage project."
Karl frowned. "Won't that decrease our share?"
"Not really." Mazalet repeated. "To my knowledge, it never has, anyway."
"All anchors are in place," Captain Sigismund reported. "We might drift a foot or two but hardly more."
"Very good." Per nodded. "Start pumping air."
"Is that really necessary?" Mazalet asked. "I mean, they'll be tired long before the bell even hits the water."
"That's why we have replacements." Per lowered his voice. "It's my brothers going down there, and we're taking enough chances as it is already. Pumps start before anyone goes inside the bell and don't stop until the last diver is back on deck. Any man who forgets that will go along for the next dive. Outside the bell.
"Divers to the bell," he shouted. "Check the air and keep your feet up." He waited as Lars and Olof ducked to get through the little port in the weighted edge of the bell and scrambled inside. The port was below the air-bleed holes, and if they wished to exit it once they were down, they would have to swim.
Olof's voice sounded strange, coming from inside the bell. "We're ready to go."
"Good." Per shouted. "Remember, we'll only lower you a few feet at a time so if something happens, you just go outside and swim to the surface." He turned around and signalled to Karl. "All right, remove the planks and go ahead with the crane when you're ready. Remember, just a few feet at a time."
Karl grinned. "Don't worry, big brother. By now I can do this in my sleep." He watched as the last plank was pulled aside, and motioned his men towards the windlass.
"Everyone got a hold? Good." Karl nodded. "Good. Can you feel the weight? My brothers' lives are hanging on your shoulders. Don't make me regret picking you for this job." There were tight grins from the men, but no one looked strained. "On my mark," Karl said, "you will all take one step backwards. Ready, steady, go."
"Here we go," Lars said gleefully as the diving bell rose from the deck. "The first lads since Jonah to walk the bottom of the sea."
"Don't tell our boss," Olof complained. "Thanks to you he really believes we've done this for generations. Don't make him change his mind."
Lars face hardened in the gloom. "Don't you think we can do it?" he challenged. "There is nothing we can't do if we really try."
"We can't fly," Olof said.
"Of course we can." Lars grinned. "You just wait and see. With all the money from Vasa, we can build some other machine."
"One that flies?"
"Why not," Lars said serenely. "We're from Delsbo, and Per is really clever. Nothing is impossible."
Olof stood up on his seat. "The pump is still working anyway; I can feel the air coming in."
"Told you so." Lars looked down into the water. "The counterweight is barely under the surface yet," he muttered. "What's taking Karl so long?"
"He's being careful, Brother."
"It's something he should try with women. Ah. That's more like it!" Lars chuckled as the bottom of the bell slid into the water. "It gets dark fast though," he noted.
"Get used to it," said Olof gloomily. "Miss Ginny says it will be pitch black down there."
"Good thing we have a lamp, then."
"Ja." There was silence, only disturbed by the bubbling air coming up from the hose. The bell slowly sank, with the pressure increasing. "We will only go to five fathoms," said Lars, comforting himself. "We could swim up from that."
"We could, but we are not going to," said Olof.
"No," said Lars, "But I am going to swim outside, little brother."
"But we are not supposed to. This is a test." As if to emphasise that the little bell connected by wire to the surface tinged. Olof tugged the reply ringer.
"Ja. But I am just a little scared, brother. If I don't do it now, I will never do it. And we are promised to the enterprise." He took a coil of rope and tied himself to the end. "You can haul me back in if I get into trouble. I will tug hard, twice, if I need you to do that." He smiled ruefully, and pointed at the surface. "Besides, the Frenchman wanted something to prove we'd been down here. Let me see what I can find."
"Does Per know of this plan?"
Lars shook his head. "He probably guesses I will by now. He knows me. And I think he was planning to do the same thing if he had won at the drawing of the straws."
Olof bit his lip "You have your knife? You remember Ginny said the greatest danger was from becoming entangled."
Lars patted it. The bell's descent had stopped and he slipped down into the water. Olof also knew his older brother. For Lars to have admitted fear was unheard of. Olof knew nothing would stop him defeating it. So he held the rope and prayed.
After what seemed a long, long time, just as he was ready to start hauling rope anyway, it went slack. He took in. He breathed a sigh of relief when his brother's head popped up. And then he screamed.
"Ach. It's just the poor fellow's skull. It came loose when I started to cut him free of the rigging. He should have taken Ginny's advice and had a sharp knife with him."
Olof shuddered and refused to take the skull. "What have you done with the body?"