I climbed clumsily over the side of the ship and down 

 a rope ladder into the water. As I had been instructed, I 

 stuck my head into the water to see that the mask was 

 tight and the air flowing properly. Little bubbles of air 

 promptly left the exhaust valve and rose to the surface. I 

 had been told to place the air hose under my left arm, and 

 a circlet of lead weights had been hung over my right 

 shoulder to give me additional weight on the bottom. 



Ed went down with me. He wore an Aqualung, a self- 

 contained diving unit, with a tank strapped to his back, 

 for during the previous week he had acquired a much 

 broader skill in the use of various types of diving equip- 

 ment. Already a competent swimmer and diver, it had not 

 taken him long to master the necessary techniques, for he 

 also possessed the confidence and self-assurance which I 

 so greatly lacked in this strange and unknown environment. 



I felt my way down the life line suspended from the 

 ship. Ed hovered close at my side. As the water closed in 

 overhead, a lovely crystalline light sifted through it, and 

 a steady path of bubbles streaked to the surface from my 

 mask. Floating through the water to a depth of at least 

 ten feet were innumerable transparent jellyfish. I was glad 

 for the protection of many clothes. My ears hurt and 

 popped. I slowed my descent, conscious of advice that I 

 must neither ascend nor descend quickly, because rapid 

 changes of pressure are dangerous. 



Above me as I descended, the outline of Blue Her- 

 on's keel and bottom took shape, and I could see the can- 

 non strapped snugly in its curve. The green light grew 

 dimmer, for it was now late in the afternoon, though it 

 was still sufficiently bright to make out the spectacular 

 ocean floor below. 



But there was trouble from an unexpected quarter. 

 My feet, in their canvas shoes, insisted upon floating. As 

 I descended the rope, I had great trouble keeping them 



14 Sea Diver 



