Refilling his lungs, Jack reviewed what he had seen at the highest point in the hull. The dark area to the right was probably the best bet for an air pocket. If there was a cavity that held air, it would have no holes letting in light. He would try that.
As he made ready to depart again, Yanoo and Matoo arrived at the barrel. At considerable risk to themselves, they had already rigged two small containers for air and struggled down with them to freshen the pocket in Jack’s bell. Jack was overcome with a depth of gratitude that surprised him. Jack O’Reilly might be living a dangerous and obsessed life, but he wasn’t doing it without friends. He felt strengthened, encouraged. It mattered that there were men up there who would stand by him.
By following the line, then grabbing the remaining coils and pushing for the darkness above him, he found his way quickly back to the point he had reached on the first dive. Suddenly his head burst into air, striking a hard obstacle. He gasped, cursed, and took some deep breaths.
As if in a dream, a familiar voice came out of the dark. “Bonjour, mon ami. Kindly breathe a bit more softly, it is becoming close in here.”
“Quen-Li! Damn you for a Chinese madman, it’s you!” Jack was ecstatic.
“Yes, my excitable young friend. It’s me—you expected Confucius?”
“Christ, I can’t get to you. Timbers are blocking my way. Are you all right?”
“He’s a bit the worse for wear, Jack, as am I,” Paul answered.
“Paul!” Jack couldn’t believe his ears. Even in the pressurized air, Paul’s voice was easily recognizable. “You son of a bitch, I thought you drowned.” The resentment in his own voice surprised Jack. Along with a flood of relief came the realization of how angry he had been at his friend.
“Glad to see you, too,” croaked Paul, sounding a bit like a man who had already drowned.
Quen-Li spoke again, his voice sounding strained even if his composure was unchanged, “We have a complicated situation here, Jack.”
“Complicated! Blazing balls of the pope. We’re under a goddamn ship and… you’d be a memory if I didn’t hear you tapping, and—”
“Jack, calm down and listen.”
“Okay, my friend, speak. You’re right, time’s not on our side.”
“My right arm is chained at the wrist and the chain extends back under the water level to where it is secured to an iron ring.”
Jack exhaled loudly but said nothing.
“My left arm is broken—a—uh—a measure taken by the count to ensure I could be brought back to Spain without further attrition to the count’s men…. A story for another time.”
“Broke your—damn it all! If I could get my claws into that slimy bastard’s throat—”
“Jack!”
“All right, go ahead.”
“Another complication… with one arm broken and the other chained below me, it should have occurred to you that it would have been hard for me to return your taps to the hull.”
Jack, totally perplexed, stared toward the dim outline of his friend. “What?” After several more seconds, “But Paul—”
“No, at the time he was quite unconscious.”
“There’s someone else in here?”
“Not exactly in here, but on the other side of that broken bulkhead—he’s a bit shy. Didn’t know I was here at all until you arrived and we started talking.” Quen-Li spoke conversationally: “Come talk to us, my companion in this tiny world. I heard you whimpering and yelling as you pounded for rescue… your salvation is here… speak.”
“I… I can pay a fortune. Please save me from this tomb,” a voice with a Spanish accent stammered back.
Jack felt paralyzed. The distorted voice was one he would never forget. He replied with no emotion, “So, it’s you, de Silva.”
“Listen to me, O’Reilly. I have riches you’ve never dreamed of. I—”
“All you have that I want is your neck. I would hate to see you drown before I could caress your throat with a sharp blade.” Jack followed his words with a furious lunge, but all his strength could not force his large frame through the constriction formed by the timbers.
“Jack,” Quen-Li said firmly. “You must calm yourself as never before and make some decisions that you will live with always.”
Jack listened quietly.
“Even without you in here breathing like a furnace I doubt we could last another hour, more like half that time.” He took a moment to catch his breath. “De Silva’s strongbox with the better part of his wealth—since you’ve torched everything else he owns—is in that compartment with him. He kept it and me safe in this ladyhole beneath the ship’s waterline.”
“But—”
“Don’t interrupt. If you have the crew beat through the hull above us, before this ship slips further down the slope I believe we’re on, you can grab his riches and remove his head when he splutters to the surface.”
“No!” Jack wailed.
“Listen, Jack.”
“No, damn it, you listen, you smooth-talking Chinese lizard. I’m the captain of the Star and I make the decisions. That plan would leave you and Paul in here drowning like rats, and that’s not going to happen.”
“Jack, Paul should be able to make it through the hole our men chop through the hull.”
“Don’t Jack me. You’ve already wasted a passel of my time. The Brotherhood does not give up its own. Here’s the plan—we cut through the hull from the outside below the air pocket and pry your chain ring off. Once you’re free and we get you and Paul to the surface, then I’ll deal with the count and his riches. If the ship slides off the reef before that, so be it.”
“O’Reilly, wait!”
“Shut up, de Silva! I’m bringing an iron bar down. I believe I can force it past this mess of timbers. Then Paul can bang on the hull from inside while we axe our way in from above—Paul, you up to that?”
“Aye, Jack.” His voice seemed a bit stronger. “But wait.”
“What is it? Time’s wasting.”
“Bring a bottle of wine.”
Jack stared into the darkness. “Are you mad? What do you think this is, a bleeding birthday party?”
“Jack, I’m serious, get me a wine bottle with a cork and pop it, turn it upside down, and hold your thumb over the lip on the way back—I have an idea.” Nutty as the request seemed, Jack knew better than to argue with Paul.
He took a moderate breath and headed back down to the barrel. The water level was slightly lower—only possible if the Belaurans had been hard at resupplying it. From there he made his way quickly, hand over hand, to the surface.
The crew was astonished. Hansumbob clapped his hands and hooted like a banshee with the others when he heard that both Paul and Quen-Li were alive. Many of the crew’s eyes narrowed when hearing of de Silva’s survival.
“Broke the Chinaman’s arm?” asked Hansum with a sickened look.
At this point, Cheatum, still in mortal fear of his life, decided to share his knowledge. “Fellas, when the count’s men found out that Quen-Li was a… you know—”
“What of it?” snapped Jack.
“Well, they, all seven of them, jumped him. They mighta well as tied into a mountain lion. The reason you didn’t have much opposition when you raided de Silva’s hacienda was that four of the guards was attending funeral services for the other three.”
The men broke into smiles. Quince slapped Bob on the back. “Guess brother Quen hasn’t lost his touch.”
“I knowed he’d be all right,” said Bob with a proud gleam in his eye. “But Paul and—how we gonna get them out?”
“We don’t have much time,” interrupted Jack. “Here’s the plan. With Paul in there steadily pounding, it’s still going to be a trick to find exactly where to cut in from the outside. Too low and we’re on the other side of the frame from Quen-Li’s iron link. Too high and we let the air out and we’ll drown him for sure—and Paul if we’re not careful. No more jabbering from anybody unless they got something important to say. Red Dog, Jacob, Mentor, get another bar lowered down to the bell. Klett, you and the Belaurans make ready for some heavy work axing and picking down there once you know exactly where the sound is coming from. You others tie ropes to the divers’ waists and pull them up when they get tired so they don’t have to waste energy swimming.”