Under the Waves | Page 2

a hero and twenty-one, was
naturally romantic.
But let us pause here to assert that he was also practical--eminently so.
Practicality is compatible with romance as well as with rascality. If we
be right in holding that romance is gushing enthusiasm, then are we
entitled to hold that many methodical and practical men have been, are,
and ever will be, romantic. Time sobers their enthusiasm a little, no
doubt, but does by no means abate it, unless the object on which it is
expended be unworthy.
Recovering from his thoughtful air, and repeating "Just so," the diver
added, "Well, I suppose we'd better begin wi' them 'ere odds an' ends
about us."
"Not so," returned the youth quickly; "I have often seen the apparatus,
and am quite familiar with it. Let us rather go to the pier at once. I'm
anxious to go down."
"Ah! Mister Edgar--hasty as usual," said Baldwin, shaking his head
slowly. "It's two years since I last saw you, and I had hoped to find that
time had quieted you a bit, but--. Well, well--now, look here: you think
you've seen all my apparatus, an' know all about it?"
"Not exactly all," returned the youth, with a smile; "but you know I've
often been in this store of yours, and heard you enlarge on most if not
all of the things in it."
"Yes--most, but not all, that's where it lies, sir. You've often seen Siebe
and Gorman's dresses, but did you ever see this helmet made by Heinke
and Davis?"

"No, I don't think I ever did."
"Or that noo helmet wi' the speakin'-toobe made by Denayrouze and
Company, an' this dress made by the same?"
"No, I've seen none of these things, and certainly this is the first time I
have heard of a speaking-tube for divers."
"Well then, you see, Mister Edgar, you have something to larn here
after all; among other things, that Denayrouze's is not the first
speakin'-toobe," said Baldwin, who thereupon proceeded with the most
impressive manner and earnest voice to explain minutely to his no less
earnest pupil the various clever contrivances by which the several
makers sought to render their apparatus perfect.
With all this, however, we will not trouble the reader, but proceed at
once to the port, where diving operations were being carried on in
connection with repairs to the breakwater.
On their way thither the diver and his young companion continued their
conversation.
"Which of the various dresses do you think the best?" asked Edgar.
"I don't know," answered Baldwin.
"Ah, then you are not bigotedly attached to that of your employer--like
some of your fraternity with whom I have conversed?"
"I am attached to Siebe and Gorman's dress," returned Baldwin, "but I
am no bigot. I believe in every thing and every creature having good
and bad points. The dress I wear and the apparatus I work seem to me
as near perfection as may be, but I've lived too long in this world to
suppose nobody can improve on 'em. I've heard men who go down in
the dresses of other makers praise 'em just as much as I do mine, an'
maybe with as good reason. I believe 'em all to be serviceable. When
I've had more experience of 'em I'll be able to say which I think the
best.-- I've got a noo hand on to-day," continued Baldwin, "an' as he's

goin' down this afternoon for the first time, so you've come at a good
time. He's a smart young man, but I'm not very hopeful of him, for he's
an Irishman."
"Come, old fellow," said Edgar, with a laugh, "mind what you say
about Irishmen. I've got a dash of Irish blood in me through my mother,
and won't hear her countrymen spoken of with disrespect. Why should
not an Irishman make a good diver?"
"Because he's too excitable, as a rule," replied Baldwin. "You see,
Mister Edgar, it takes a cool, quiet, collected sort of man to make a
good diver, and Irishmen ain't so cool as I should wish. Englishmen are
better, but the best of all are Scotchmen. Give me a good, heavy,
raw-boned lump of a Scotchman, who'll believe nothin' till he's
convinced, and accept nothin' till it's proved, who'll argue with a stone
wall, if he's got nobody else to dispute with, in that slow sedate
humdrum way that drives everybody wild but himself, who's got an
amazin' conscience, but no nerves whatever to speak of--ah, that's the
man to go under water, an' crawl about by the hour among mud and
wreckage without gittin' excited or makin' a fuss about it if he should
get his life-line or air-toobe entangled among iron bolts, smashed-up
timbers, twisted wire-ropes, or such like."
"Scotchmen should feel complimented by your