HOW IT FEELS

Evening Star, Issue 20999, 13 January 1932, Page 1

HOW IT FEELS

DEEP-WATER DIVING News is to be expected of the recovery of the gold in the sunken liner Egypt, lost in the Bay of Biscay, It is merely a matter of time before one more great feat of human ingenuity and endurance will have been accomplished, writes Jack Heming in the ‘ Daily Telegraph.’ The success of the enterprise, as romantic as any in fiction, has depended entirely upon the work of the divers, who, with infinite patience and great fortitude, have overcome the t* I cls which Nature has set against the venturer in the deeps. Diving calls for courage of a very special brand, for physique above the ordinary, and, judging by_ the divers I have known, a characteristic mental outlook—a sort of optimistic fatalism.

A diver’s first descent is a curious experience. With your heavilyweighted feet in water you sink quickly, and for a moment you feel certain that the descent will be too fast for the paying out of the air pipe. But as, with hand on the last rung of the ladder, you allow yourself to submerge, you feel the buoyancy of the air-filled suit and head-piece taking the load, and you regain confidence. You grope above to make sure all is well with the pipe and line; feel in your belt to see that the ii'on-sheathed knife is there, and, maybe, torch and case of tools, and then, after a last “OK signal from those above, let go. . You go down fairly fast for the first three or four fathoms; and what with the feeling of insecurity, the deepening gloom, and an eerie sense of'utter isolation, you have little time to appreciate any physical changes. But if you allow yourself to drop too fast you soon feel the “squeeze,” as divers call it, and must check the drop. When at last you reach the bottom you feel helpless for a minute or so, as if you alone bore the weight of the universe. But presently, when muscles are accustomed to the extra demands upon them and the system has become used to the conditions, you can move about freely, although slowly. The light below varies considerably with the geographical position. In some places in the East daylight penetrates sufficiently for the diver to see at his greatest depth. But beneath most English waters there is a fearsome gloom. Generally the diver has little to fear if there is no interference with his lines, especially in northern latitudes, but there are records of thrilling adventures in the eastern world ■ under the sea. One diver suddenly found himself enveloped by thick, jelly-like seaweed, which snapped his telephone cable and all but carried away his air E. He got free only after half an ■’s hacking with his knife, when ho was on the point of exhaustion. As he cut the curious stuff away from his head, the weed appeared immediately to close up its wound. Another diver was_ attacked by an octopus. The foul thing got one huge tentacle round him before ho was aware of it—instinct alone can give warning, unless the danger lies dead ahead—and he was out of reach of his shot-line. He was able to free himself with his knife, but was almost caught again as he struggled l with heart-breaking slowness towards his line. * Sharks form perhaps the greatest danger of all to divers. Their attach; is capricious, yet swift and terrible. Telephone cable, air-tube, and shot-line might be severed with one snap of powerful jaws; the effect of an attack on the diver himself can readily he visualised.