Under the Waves | Page 5

forward as he spoke, was a fine
specimen of a man, and would have done credit to any nationality. He
was about the middle height, very broad and muscular, and apparently
twenty-three years of age. His countenance was open, good-humoured,
and good-looking, though by no means classic--the nose being
turned-up, the eyes small and twinkling, and the mouth large.

"Have you ever seen anything of this sort before?" asked Baldwin, with
a motion of his hand towards the diving apparatus scattered on the
deck.
"No sur, nothin'."
"Was you bred to any trade?"
"Yis, sur, I'm a ship-carpenter."
"An' why don't you stick to that?"
"Bekase, sur, it won't stick to me. There's nothin' doin' apparently in
this poort. Annyhow I can't git work, an' I've a wife an' chick at home,
who've bin so long used to praties and bacon that their stummicks don't
take kindly to fresh air fried in nothin'. So ye see, sur, findin' it difficult
to make a livin' above ground, I'm disposed to try to make it under
water."
While Rooney Machowl was speaking Baldwin regarded him with a
fixed and critical gaze. What his opinion of the recruit was did not,
however, appear on his countenance or in his reply, for he merely said,
"Humph! Well, we'll see. You'll begin your education in your noo
profession by payin' partikler attention to all that is said an' done
around you."
"Yis, sur," returned Machowl, respectfully touching the peak of his cap
and wrinkling his forehead very much, while he looked on at the further
proceedings of the divers with that expression of deep earnest sincerity
of attention which--whether assumed or genuine--is only possible to the
countenance of an Irishman.
During this colloquy the two men standing by the pump-case, and two
other men who appeared to be supernumeraries, listened with much
interest, but the diver seated on the plank, resting and calmly smoking
his pipe, gazed with apparent indifference at the sea, from which he had
recently emerged.

This man was a very large fellow, with a dark surly countenance--not
exactly bad in expression, but rather ill-tempered-looking. His
diving-dress being necessarily very wide and baggy, made him seem
larger than he really was--indeed, quite gigantic. The dress was made of
very thick india-rubber cloth, and all--feet, legs, body, and arms--was
of one piece, so perfectly secured at the seams as to be thoroughly
impervious to air or water. To get into it was a matter of some
difficulty, the entrance being effected at the neck. When this neck is
properly attached to the helmet, the diver is thoroughly cut off from the
external world, except through the air-tube communicating with his
helmet and the pump afore mentioned.
"Have ye got the hole finished, Maxwell?" said Baldwin, turning to the
surly diver.
"Yes," he replied shortly.
"Well, then, go down and fix the charge. Here it is," said Baldwin,
taking from a wooden case an object about eighteen inches long, which
resembled a large office-ruler that had been coated thickly with pitch. It
was an elongated shell filled to the muzzle with gunpowder. To one
end of it was fastened the end of a coil of wire which was also coated
with some protecting substance.
As Baldwin spoke Maxwell slowly puffed the last "draw" from his lips
and knocked the ashes out of his pipe on the plank, on which he still
remained seated while the two supernumeraries busied themselves in
completing his toilet for him; one screwing on his helmet, which
appeared ridiculously large, the other loading his breast and back with
two heavy leaden weights. When fully equipped, the diver carried on
his person a weight fully equal to that of his own bulky person.
"Now look here, Mister Edgar, an' pay partikler attention, Rooney
Machowl. This here toobe, made of indyrubber, d'ee see? (`Yis, sur,'
from Rooney) I fix on, as you perceive, to the back of Maxwell's
helmet. It communicates with that there pump, and when these two
men work the pump, air will be forced into the helmet and into the
dress down to his very toes. We could bu'st him, if we were so disposed,

if it wasn't for an escape-valve, here close beside the air-toobe, at the
back of the helmet, which keeps lettin' off the surplus air. Moreover,
there is another valve, here in front of the breast-plate, which is under
the control of the diver, so that he can let air escape by givin' it a
half-turn when the men at the pumps are givin' him too much, or he can
keep it in when they're givin' him enough."
"An' what does he do," asked Rooney, with an anxious expression,
"whin they give him too little?"
"He pulls on the air-pipe,--as I'll explain to you in good time--the
proper