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?"
"Still out there. I will tie him on to the other end of the rope. His uniform is holding him together."
There was a silence. Then Olof reached out and took the skull with its tatters of hair. "He needs a Christian burial," he said, "whoever he was."
"Ja. Besides, this is exactly the kind of evidence Mazalet was looking for."
Olof giggled suddenly.
"What?" Lars asked.
"I can't wait to see Karl's face when he first puts his eyes on the skull."
"There is that, too," Lars admitted with a grin. "Wish me luck."
"You don't need any," Olof said. "You'll be doing the Lord's work out there."
"Then I wish that he made water just a little warmer." Lars sucked in a huge breath and slid down into the water. Working his way along the spar, he wrapped a rope around the corpse and pulled himself back into the bell.
"A boat hook would work," he muttered, as he hung from the rungs taking huge gulps of air. "This bell hangs lightly in the water."
Lars dived back outside and worked his way back to the corpse. It was harder this time. As Ginny had said, the water had turned misty with silt and Lars had to touch the body far more than he was comfortable with to make sure it was secured. Finally, after four trips, he climbed inside and, with Olof's help, pulled off his clothes. Shivering, he dried himself. "I've had my fill of water for one day. I need to feel the sun on my skin."
Olof nodded fervently.
* * *
Fermin Mazalet looked around his crew and bowed deeply.
"Gentlemen, lady", he said. "Today, we've made history. Tonight the beer is on me.
"And tomorrow?" Lars Lennartson called out.
"Tomorrow," Mazalet said slowly. "Tomorrow we'll follow that unfortunate sailor to his last rest. We'll probably never know who he was, but the Lord almighty knows his own and Lieutenant Sparre agrees that a member of the Swedish Navy deserves a proper burial."