hances faced by divers in his
experience: of a hose and life-line fouled in a wreck; of an
escape-valve frozen shut, in winter-time, by the diver's congealed
breath; of a helmet smashed through by a load of pig-iron falling from
its sling; of a diver dragged off a wreck by a drifting pontoon--such a
record of thrilling escapes and tragedies as any wrecking-master could
run over. One realized why insurance companies refuse to take risks on
divers' lives, and why the diver's pay is large.

Before long Atkinson came up again, and announced that everything was
ready, holes stopped and suction length in place. Two men helped undress
him, while the others set the big eight-inch pipe to pumping out the
wreck, and soon it was spurting a thick stream over her side like a
fire-tower.

Presently the dinner-bell rang from a tiny cabin below, and I had the
honor of breaking bread with the crew of the _Dunderberg_ and two of the
company's stanchest divers, Atkinson and Timmans, both small, thin men
with wrinkled faces, both the heroes of many adventures. Here was indeed
a chance to find out things!

One of my first questions turned upon the effect of diving on a man's
hearing. Was it true, as I had read, that divers often have one or both
of their ear-drums ruptured by the water-pressure?

Both men thought not; most divers of their acquaintance had good
hearing.

"Diving often kills a man straight out," said Timmans; "but, aside from
that, I don't think it injures his health. Ain't that right, Bill?"

Atkinson nodded. He had observed that divers almost never take cold or
have trouble with their lungs, although they are constantly exposed to
all weathers, and often live and sleep in wet clothes for days and
nights. As a young man, he himself had been a bookkeeper, in delicate
health. People thought he had consumption. So he gave up bookkeeping
and, by accident, became a diver. He had never had a sick day since, and
he had worn the suit now for twenty-nine years.

"About a man's ears," said he; "there's no doubt you get a pressure in
'em when you go down, and the pressure gets harder and harder the deeper
you go, that is, until your ears crack."

"Crack?" said I.

"Well, that's what we call it, but I don't suppose anything really
cracks. After you get down, say, thirty feet, your ears hurt a good
deal, especially if by chance you have a little cold; and you keep
opening your mouth and swallering to make the crack come, and t