rs had been for some time
busy; a great part of the wreck had been laid open, and some curious
discoveries been made, and treasures recovered, which inspired the
workmen with ardour. On the following day, I was at the scene of
operation. When I went on board of the lighter, from which the bell was
suspended, I examined the apparatus. The bell was then down, the men
stood holding the crane, and listening attentively to hear the signals
that were, every now and then, coming from the divers. At a little
distance was the apparatus of the air-pump, which several other workmen
were busily engaged working. The whole scene was calculated to produce
an extraordinary impression on a beholder. The sky was hazy; the air
thick and oppressive, from the heat of the sun acting upon the dense
medium of a mist that hung on the water; there was not a breath of wind
to ruffle the surface of the calm deep; the only sound heard was the
whizzing of the air-pump, and the clang of the apparatus by which it was
worked. There was nothing seen of the bell; it was far down in the bosom
of the deep. The chain, by which it was suspended, dipped into the sea
and disappeared, carrying the mind with it down to the grim recesses
where living, breathing men were buried. Clear as the waters were, the
eye could not reach the depth to which the huge living cemetery had
descended; a recoiling feeling, which made the heart leap, followed the
effort to trace the chain down, down through the translucent sea. The
red sun, struggling through the mist, was reflected in a lurid glow from
the surface of the deep. As the air-pump ceased for short intervals, and
absolute silence reigned around, a clang, unlike any sounds of earth,
came upon the ear--

"As if the ocean's heart were stirred
With inward life, a sound is heard."

It was a signal from those in the bell; it seemed as if the sea
trembled, and old Ocean spoke from the deeper recesses of his soul. The
sound struck the ear as something unnatural, or what might be conceived
to issue from a sepulchre when the spirits of the dead hold converse in
the still night. The signal was answered; and, in a short time
afterwards, there were heard three successive strokes quickly
repeated--clang, clang, clang. The quickness of the strokes, and the
strangeness of the sound, coming whence such sounds are never heard,
seemed the doom-peal of these men.

"The sea around me, in that sickly light,
Shewed like th