TO DAVY Jones's locker 115 



face. A momentary delay came as the single clamp was re- 

 moved. Some part of my brain worked steadily on and 

 counted twenty-four jellyfish swimming past, and then 

 we rose swiftly. As soon as the ascent first began my mind 

 went to the people on deck, and I knew that they were 

 getting the worst of this dive. As we shot into the air 

 and over the bulwarks I caught a glimpse of our assistants' 

 faces and those of the crew, and I knew how little we 

 had appreciated the strain of the last two minutes. I 

 jammed my face as closely as possible to the glass and 

 assumed what I supposed was a reassuring grin, and the 

 second attempt at a deep dive was over. A broken wire 

 had caused the trouble, and eventually we had to cut off 

 and throw away fifty fathoms of hose. 



The next day, June eleventh, was a perfect one for our 

 work, and we were able to take advantage of it and make 

 the deepest descent of this season, to a depth of 1426 feet, 

 or well over a quarter of a land mile. When we went out 

 in our launch to the Ready, we found there had been a 

 fire on board in the night which had taken several hours 

 to put out. The side and part of the aft gunwale had been 

 badly charred, but no serious damage done, while the hose, 

 winch, and sphere had escaped. With our ancient barge 

 looking a little more than usual like a deserted hulk, we 

 put to sea again. As there was a current and an outward 

 set, this time I stopped at a point in the ocean five miles 

 south of Nonsuch, where former soundings had given us 

 a depth of 750 fathoms. 



