112 TO DAVY JONES S LOCKER 



ness and yet some hunch — some mental warning which 

 I have had at half a dozen critical times in my life — 

 spelled bottom for this trip. This settled, I concentrated 

 on the window for five minutes. 



The three exciting internal events which marked this 

 first trip were, first, the discovery of the slight leak 

 through the door at 300 feet, which lessened as we went 

 down; next, the sudden short-circuiting of the electric 

 light switch, with attendant splutterings and sparks, which 

 was soon remedied. The third was absurd, for it was only 

 Barton pulling out his palm-leaf fan from between the 

 wall of the sphere and the wire lining of the chemical 

 rack. I was wholly absorbed at the time in watching some 

 small fish, when the sudden shrieking rasp in the con- 

 fines of our tiny cell gave me all the reactions which we 

 might imagine from the simultaneous caving in of both 

 windows and door! After that, out of regard for each 

 other's nerves, we squirmed about and carried on our vari- 

 ous duties silently. 



Coming up to the surface and through it was like hit- 

 ting a hard ceiling — I unconsciously ducked, ready for 

 the impact, but there followed only a slather of foam 

 and bubbles, and the rest was sky. 



We reached the deck again just one hour after our 

 start, and sat quietly while the middle bolt was slowly 

 unscrewed. We could hear our compressed air hissing out- 

 ward through the threads until finally the bolt popped 

 o£F, and our ear-drums vibrated very slightly. After a 



