the weight of the cannon, caused Blue Heron to roll 

 badly. With each roll the cannon was lifted several feet 

 and dropped back against the sharp coral on the bottom. 



Ed put on a diving mask and went overboard to see 

 how things were progressing. He found that the coral 

 which coated the cannon was cutting through the ropes, 

 which would undoubtedly be severed before the gun 

 could be raised. He returned for some steel cable and de- 

 parted below once more to reinforce the load. Sitting 

 astride the iron barrel while fastening the cables, he 

 plunged up and down with the motion of the boat as if he 

 were riding a bucking horse. 



With makeshift equipment and the well-intentioned 

 but awkward eflForts of the amateur crew, it was hours 

 before the cannon was finally raised and secured to a spot 

 in the curve of Blue Heron's bottom and keel, where it 

 was made fast for the journey to shore. 



It was then that Ed indicated the time had come for 

 me to make my first dive. I had avoided thinking about it 

 all day. I was eager to try it, and yet I was filled with 

 trepidation. What if the air hose should kink, or the com- 

 pressor cease operating? What if I should meet up with a 

 shark or barracuda? What if I should get panicky and be 

 unable to reach the surface fast enough? I had almost a 

 phobia against putting my head underwater or getting 

 water up my nose. 



Outwardly calm, I donned jersey and dungarees over 

 my swim suit, tied on my deck shoes and bathing cap and 

 waited to have the diving mask adjusted — not the clumsy 

 metal helmet which Ed had experimented with earlier in 

 the year, but a Desco mask, a triangle of glass edged with 

 black rubber, equipped with intake and exhaust valves 

 and connected to a hundred feet of hose. Air, cool and 

 comforting, poured in through the open valve as Ed tight- 

 ened the fastenings of the mask about my face. 



The Florida Keys 13 



