ing of consequence (no doubt deeper it
would have been different), and I feel rather a sense of exhilaration
from my air-supply than any inconvenience. At every breath the whole
suit heaves and settles with the lift and fall of my lungs. I carry my
armor easily. It seems as if I have no weight at all, yet the scales
would give me close to four hundred pounds.

[Illustration: THE AUTHOR AFTER HIS FIRST DIVE. THE FACE-PLATE HAS BEEN
UNSCREWED FROM THE HELMET.]

The fact is, though I did not know it, my friends up in the daylight
were pumping me down too much air (this in their eager desire to give
enough), and I was in danger of becoming more buoyant than is good for a
diver; in fact, if the clay-pipe gentleman had turned his wheel just a
shade faster I should have traveled up in a rush--four hundred pounds
and all. I learned afterward that Atkinson had an experience like this,
one day, when a green tender mixed the signals and kept sending down
more air every time he got a jerk for less. Atkinson was under a
vessel's keel, patching a hole, and he hung on there as long as he
could, saying things to himself, while the suit swelled and swelled.
Then he let go, and came to the surface so fast that he shot three feet
out of the water, and startled the poor tender into dropping his line
and taking to his heels.

Needless to say, that sort of thing is quite the reverse of amusing to a
diver, who must be raised and lowered slowly (say at the speed of a lazy
freight elevator) to escape bad head-pains from changing air-pressure.

I sat down on the deck and took note of things. The golden color of the
water was due to the sunshine through it and the mud in it--a fine
effect from a mean cause. For two or three feet I could see distinctly
enough. I noticed how red my hands were from the squeeze of rubber
wrist-bands. I felt the diving-suit over, and found the legs pressed
hard against my body with the weight of water. I searched for the hammer
and nail they had tied to me, and proceeded to drive the latter into the
deck. I knew that divers use tools under water--the hammer, the saw, the
crowbar, etc.--almost entirely by sense of feeling, and I wanted to see
if I could do so. The thing proved easier than I had expected. I hit the
nail on the head nearly every time. Nor did the water resistance matter
much; my nail went home, and I was duly pleased. I breathed quicker,
after this slight exertion, and recalled Atkinson's words about