90 THE BIRTH OF THE BATHYSPHERE 



released slowly and without injury, the ascent must be a 

 matter of hours. 



These facts led to the construction of a suit of metal, 

 so rigid and strong that it would resist the terrible pres- 

 sure of the water. In such a contraption a man would 

 breathe air sent down to him under ordinary pressure, 

 and there need be no readjustment, no delay in hauling 

 him up. Hence we find many modern diving suits, look- 

 ing like dreadful goblins of sorts, weighing five hundred 

 to six hundred pounds. In these, according to published 

 records, a man has reached a depth in fresh water of 525 

 feet. But the law of compensation comes in and he is 

 almost as helpless as if he were in a solid cylinder or sphere. 

 He has arms and legs, but they are of steel and the joints 

 usually freeze, or bend with the greatest difficulty. His 

 own limbs are fettered as if they were marrow in ordinary 

 bones. A mechanical claw or hook takes the place of fingers 

 and hands. 



Submarines have never reached even this depth, and at 

 best they offer almost no opportunities for observation. 

 I have sat at the periscope of the Submarine V-i, as she 

 sank beneath the waves, and have watched eagerly out 

 of her tiny ports, but no form of life, nothing but the 

 green water of the upper layers, was visible. 



Many years ago I spent the best part of an evening 

 with President Theodore Roosevelt discussing ways and 

 means of deep-sea diving. There remains only a smudged 

 bit of paper with a cylinder drawn by myself and a sphere 



