HIS LIFE IN HIS HANDS.

Hawke's Bay Tribune, Volume I, Issue 126, 13 May 1911, Page 3 (Supplement)

HIS LIFE IN HIS HANDS.

The Romantic Vocation of a Diver. TO-DAY the modern diving helmet is equipped with a telephone, and the diver can not only hear what is said to him from the surface, advise those in charge of his pump as to whether the air is “ coming right ” or mt, and make reports as to the work in hand, but he can communicate to a brother diver and hear the instructions sent, to him from the surface, all of which fa' iliiies are of great assistance in the work. At first thought, it may not seem so difficult a thing, this going do«n under water and breathing air sent in from a pump by a tube. But the physical drawbacks to the work, to take no account of the mental ones, are enormous. For every ten feet a diver descends, he sustains an added pressure of 44 pounds over every square inch of his body. What this means mr.y be better understood when considering the greatest depth ever made by a diver —204 feet. His body at that depth sustained a pressure of 88i pounds to the square inch over and above the 15 pounds always sustained when in the air.

Divers must descend very slowly, swallowing as they go Otherwise they may bleed at the nose and ears and even lose consciousness. And they must ascend even more slowly than they descend, particularly when coining from great depths, otherwise they may, literally, burst from the internal air pressure. At the least, too sudden a rise may cause an attack of that terrible disease known to tunnel workers, called caisson disease, or " the bends,” in which air gets into the tissues under pressure and causes the most extreme torture.

As may be imagined divers must be healthy men to succeed in their work. Ceitain classes of men ar® never allowed to become divers by those who wish to train men for their work. Finally, divers must be strong men physically, fo- not only must they sustain piessure and work in heavy clothes with a great weight on their shoulders, but they must often exert much muscular force to move objects below the surfa.c or to dig or tunnel tlieir way into a wreck in search of what they are after. Of course, the weight a man beais on his shoulders and the heavy lead weights upon hjs feet, make less inroads npoir his strength when he is beneath the water; in tact, were it not for the weight, he would be more apt to rise to the surface than to stay down and work. But though the weight is made less by the surrounding water, that same water clogs his every effort and resists his motion, so that a two-hour spell ten fathoms down is exhausting to the most practised diver, hen a diver is to descend, he must make many preparations. He must not eat anything for two hours beforehand, to commence with, since, according to an eminent medical authority “ Men working subject to great pressure should not eat an ounce more of animal food than is absolutely necessary some lime before descending, as it increases the tendency to apoplexy.” The diver, getting ready to descend, clothes himself m very heavy underwear of guernsey or flannel, the drawers well secured to prevent slipping, and adds a pair of heavy woollen socks. If the water be cold, two such suits may be worn. If the depth to be negotiated is great, cotton soaked with oil is -put in the ears or a heavy woollen cap polled down over them. Shoulder pads, it worn to take the weight of the helmet, are next tied on, after which the diver wriggles into his heavy suit of lubber and canvas, sleeve extenders being used by the attendant to make it possible to get into the dress. Next come tho : nner collar and the breast plate, whi 11 arc secured with clamps to the rubber -Iress. the utmost care being taken in this operation not to tear or pitch the rubber. Finally, the shoes are fitted on. and the rubber gloves clamped to rings in the sleeves. The helmet is last to go on, and never before the valves and telephone have been tested. The attendants start to pump as the helmet is clampea Lame. Tlie helmet, of course, is atta hed to the pump with a rubber tube whi h is 'anviis and wire protected. No diver descends, after the helmet is put on. until he has tested the outfit for set era' minutes and found that his air supplv is sufficient and the pump working properly. But neither does he delav unduly, for the position in which he finds himself is the reverse of comfortable. . He is supplied with a life line. v. it i which be can signa', should his tele- I phone get out of order, and by which he may be drawn to the surface, should he become helpless for any reason. He i must take great care when walking j about on the bottom not to foul his , life line, or his air tube, and for this | reason must always retrace his steps ■ cxactlv to his starting point, if he has | gone into a wreck or about any ob- | struetions. For the same reason, two | divers, working together, must be careful not to cross each other’s paths. And when the diver iias slipped from t!w fl. it. do. k, w ve-sel where his attendant- amt ai; pump are working, and dropped down rope or ladder to the new cold, dim, greenish, often n i.ddy. world under water, he finds atj cnee a mvri-id of perils surrounding j l ini. Any interruption to his air supply means death. In times past, many j a good man has died miserable in the i spouting stream of water, which choked him from a broken or cut air tube. To-dav all good diving helmets are : provided with a check valve, whichprevents water entering from a cut i tube, hut tho air in a helmet and dress i would last but a few minutes were the supply interrupted. Divers may bo ; lost in a wreck, may be overcome from i pressure or apoplexy, or may have i perils from without to contend with,! espe hilly in tropical waters, where I sharks or cro odiles make the diver’s ; life a matter of terror. Sometimes the life line may be ome «n entangled in ; leakage that it must be cut. and then i there is danger of the diver not finding [ his way La‘-k to his boat or float, es- ' necially if the bottom is muddy and I fools the “ seeing. ’ But the greatest i danger of all. of course, is that the I tide be cut. or the diver faint. I Of rhe deadlv dancers from shark ' and cro odilo. there are tales innumerable. One will suffice as typical. It is ! told by -George Means, now a very old man. who walks,on a wooden leg, but who for thirty years adventured with i wreck and wrecking job. at the end of j n slender tube and a life line. Had he i rossessed a telephon', ho will tell von. I his story might have been different. ! l.ut hi< --reat adventure was before the i npplicMtiGii of that instrument to div- i ing

“ Tt was in the Gulf of Mexi-o. and T hid V’ go down to look nn thetcondition of the * Bella Marta ’ sunk two tears before, and sur.nosed to contain a good d.-al of coin. The water was onlv nin - ' fathoms, and T did not exnect much trouble. hut I got ir J had a coed man on th" lino, and I thought mv n-mn was n’l right, vet from the first I experien rd difficulty in getting

-.1: It was found out afterwards that was a leaky valve I pulled for mere air, and for a while it came bet■.o; then I got to work in earnest.

j Th< water was clear as a bell, and 1 I Ji li.'t haveany difficulty at all in findi :.:g the hull, although she was half ■ouied with sand. But I had all | thoughts of her scared out of me in ' short order. I had crawled through ! some of her rigging and wreckage to ' go down in tho hold-—dangerous thing ■ to do, but I could not help it. I was I getting along nicely, and had the hatch I almost broken through, when I saw a i shadow about 15 feet long above me. 1 knew it was a shark, and I was a badly I scared man. Of course, I commenced ; working my way back as soon as pos- ' sible, but 1 wasn’t quick enough. The j I lute saw me and came at me slowly, I iaws open wide and wicked eyes gleaming like sin. And I couldn’t get out, because the way I had come was the wav to his jaws—he was on the wrong side for me I was in terror lest ho ; should go at my tube, but he had eyes for bigger game. There was but one thing to do, so I diew my knife—luckily it was a good ten-inch blade—and waited. It was my .first experience with sharks and I was nervous, but the thought that my life depended on no one but me, keptmy head clear. He came at me suddenly, with a rusk, and turned almost on his back, so as to give his scissor jaws a chance. That was my chance, and I gave it to him twice in the throat, slashing as much as I could. I'he water was red in a minute, and as I threw myself on my face I just prayed he would swim off to clear water. He did, I guess, because things were quiet for a while, and us soon as my heart stopped pounding long enough for me to get breath, I commenced to feel my way back again thiough the maze of woodwork, spars, wreckage, and old cordage, through which I had crept to get at the interior of the hull. It was slow work, and hazy red i.s the water was, I was afraid to do much cutting of ropes for fear of cutting my own line. About this time the air got scarce again, and I was in a desperate hurry, I tell you. I did finally manage to get clear, and, all unnerved, I gave tho signal to haul up, when —sec tins here stump of a leg? Either that shark or another one came along just then and got the rest of it. I hauled with all my might, an I the. man at the line, ‘feeling’ something wrong, hauled too. I came up with, a rush, my helmet full of water, and nearly choked to death. The blood was coming out of my ears and mouth as well as my stump, and they gave me up for dead, but I pulled around. No, never divi’Q any more; didn’t want to, cither. The company gave mo a pension, and now I just enjoy it. But that’s my pet nightmare—being tangled in a wreck, with a shark coming at me.”

And for all its danger, its romance, and its difficulty, the rewards of diving are not great. A hundred dollars for an hour s diving job may seem princely pay, but when it is realised that such isolated jobs are few and far between, that the apparatus is expensive, and tho risk great, it does not seem too much. But the profession has this one 1 ecommendation—it requires comparatively little time, and a man has manv spare hours to himself to turn to account in other wavs, and as a developer of self-reliance, quiet bravery, and coolness as well as skill, it Ims few equals and no snnoriors.--C. H. Claudy in tho iS. ientifi • American.”