Page 8 of Set in Stone

The lieutenant nodded. “They’re known for it. Very good at it, too. Medlock and Benniston have been together since Eton, and they’ve recently brought Arkwright into the partnership. He’s an old acquaintance. We served on the same ship once, back during the late war.”

Arianna listened avidly to the lieutenant’s answer, though she could not have said why Mr. Medlock’s profession mattered to her. But now she was being duplicitous—and to herself, which was not only pointless but against her principles. She was attracted to Mr. Medlock and was interested in anything to do with him. That was the truth.

The sad truth, for why would such an intelligent, capable man be interested in Arianna? And if he was, nothing was more certain but that Mama would be against the match. Mr. Medlock worked for a living, which was in his favor as far as Arianna was concerned, but would be a huge black mark against his name for her mother. Besides, Mama wanted to conspire with her future husband to steal her dowry. Mr. Medlock, Arianna was certain, had far too much integrity for such a plot.

“Miss Westbrook,” said Mr. Mills, “I must offer my apologies. I have remembered another obligation. I shall leave you in the care of your loyal handmaiden and hope you shall be gracious enough to show your forgiveness by walking with me tomorrow. Thank you. Farewell. Farewell.”

He pushed past Beaumont and hurried back along the path, soon disappearing out of sight among the dunes.

“Who set fire to his pants?” asked Mr. Richardson, and then blushed and begged Arianna’s pardon for his injudicious mention of gentlemen’s netherwear.

Six

The wreck had broken apart in the storm that had blown it onto the rocks. Thom had interviewed the captain and some of the other survivors, and knew that. His initial survey had confirmed that further storms had scattered debris quite some distance across the reef and the seabed.

Thom had drawn a grid based on that initial survey, with numbered sections for the divers to search. The divers would start with those most likely to contain the detritus of the captain’s cabin, and work out from there.

The first pair descended in their leather suits and copper helmets. The suits fastened tightly at the elbows and knees, leaving the hands and feet bare, and each helmet had a row of windows at eye level, so the wearer could see. A pair of long leather tubes connected to each helmet, one to deliver fresh air and one to allow stale air to escape. A pair of sailors from the crew took first turn on the pumps that sent air down the fresh air tube.

Air was pumped in close to the divers’ mouths, which not only allowed them to breathe underwater, but also helped to send the stale air up the second tube attached to the helmet, and kept the seams of the suits from leaking too rapidly so the divers could stay down for their full half hour. Or longer, but Jim’s rules for the divers erred on the side of safety.

The second pair of divers, the rest of the crew, and the three partners had little to do until the half hour passed. The first pair came up, the second went down, and another two sailors took over the task of pumping. Thom assisted the divers to remove their helmets, and they settled in the chairs ready for them, where pen and paper waited for them to record what they had seen.

Hanging over their shoulders while they worked would achieve nothing. Thom waited as patiently as he could for the next change over, so he could collect up the notes and examine them.

The first team had just returned to the ocean for the third time when Thom noticed men on the cliff top that overlooked their salvage site. The Cormorant was at least seven hundred and fifty yards offshore, but Thom’s eyes were sharp, and he was certain the pair were studying the salvage operation, passing a telescope back and forth between them.

“Paul,” he said softly to the captain, “that pair on the cliff top. Can you take a closer look at them without them noticing?”

His friend nodded and moved a few steps away, under the shadow of the diving bell, which was still on the deck shrouded in canvas. From its shelter, he used his own telescope to examine the cliff top.

“Two men,” he reported. “They’re watching our operation through a telescope, Thom.”

“It might just be chance,” Jim suggested. “I doubt they’ve seen divers before. Most people haven’t.” Jim was inclined to look on the bright side.

Paul had a gloomier view of life. “Or it might be someone who has guessed we’re after something worth spending money to retrieve,” he said.

“Either way, there’s nothing we can do about it except continue, and hope we find the right spot quickly,” Thom concluded.

Just before the noon break, their patience was rewarded when the second pair of divers returned to the top with pieces of wood that, despite their months-long immersion, showed every sign of having once been part of a fine piece of furniture.

Was it the cupboard the captain of the Havspray had described? It could be. And when one of the divers handed Jim an ornate brooch with a huge purple stone surrounded by diamonds, Thom was convinced. Surely this had come from the missing treasure? On its own, it appeared to be worth the cost of the salvage, and it showed no signs of the accretions that developed during long immersion.

They had found the captain’s cabin—or, at least, part of it.

“We shall stop for our break,” he proclaimed. “And then, when the divers are rested, we’ll lower the diving bell.”

Two of the divers would seat themselves on ledges inside the huge wood and metal device, which would then be carefully lowered to the sea bottom. The divers wouldn’t need their helmets, and they wouldn’t have their view obscured by moving water. The bell would remain largely full of air, and the divers would be able to search, even digging over the section of sea bottom under the bell to check that nothing was hidden.

It would be the same rules as before, adapted for the change from suits to the bell. Two pairs of divers, changing places each time the bell was moved to a fresh piece of sea bottom, and two sailors on the pump that kept the air in the bell from becoming stale.

If their luck held, they might finish their task today.

Mama was over the moon. All the gentlemen who had been at the tour yesterday morning had called later at the proper visiting hour and had sat in Mrs. Penrose’s parlor competing with one another to impress Arianna and her mother.

“I was right to bring us to Fenwick,” Mama had said once she and Arianna were alone. “Mr. Mills is still my preferred candidate, but either Mr. Richardson or Mr. Beaumont would be acceptable, if you have a preference. Not the naval officer. As far as I can work out, the Wilsons are not in Society.”

Arianna didn’t bother to tell Mama that she would not marry any of them. Lieutenant Wilson was the nicest of the lot, but she understood why Mama didn’t like him. He would be a hard man to manipulate, whereas both Mr. Richardson and Mr. Beaumont hung on Mama’s every word, and neither of them seemed at all clever. In his chatter, Mr. Beaumont had disclosed that Mama had told the talkative Mr. Brewster all about her dowry and he had shared the news with all of his gentlemen guests. No wonder they were so attentive!