And then at last, the touch of sand to his feet. The rope slackened. He was at the bottom.
This time they had judged the location better. He recognized the now familiar formation of the coral rock that lay near the wreck and with ever-increasing excitement he made for the ship.
His progress was a rather gruesome affair, hampered as it was by the bodies of dead fish, floating bellies up in a grotesquely helpless attitude.
The sharks and larger fish had suffered also and Phil was conscious of a creepy sensation at the roots of his hair as a dead shark bumped against his legs.
"I don't like 'em alive," he muttered, evidently referring to the sharks. "But I don't like 'em even when they're dead."
Then he was stopped by an unusually unpleasant thought. What--beside possible treasure would he be likely to find within the shattered hulk of the old Sea Rover. The thought was enough to give anyone pause.
"If I hate dead fish," Phil communed with himself, "how much more will I hate dead--" he paused at the word and then went resolutely on again.
According to the old pirate the good ship had gone down with all hands on board and the pirate ships were always well manned. "Bricks and stones and dead men's bones--" Phil tried to laugh but he didn't get very far with it.
At that moment the hulk of the sunken ship loomed before him, but in spite of his eagerness for the treasure Phil's feet lagged. If only he could find the gold first--then, calling himself all sorts of names he started forward again, making the best speed he could toward the wreck.
"Don't be a fool," he said, briskly. "The fellows on the Sea Rover have been dead long enough not to mind my company. Their stolen money isn't doing anyone any good here at the bottom of the sea."
As he clambered to the slanting deck of the vessel it seemed to him that the oxygen in the tank was becoming exhausted but he soon discovered that it was only his excitement that caused his labored breathing.
As he stood balancing on the slippery deck he took in with a quick glance the work that the dynamite had done. No need to worry about the hatch now! The whole upper deck had been torn to shreds and the interior of the vessel yawned toward him, a dark gaping hole.