most of 'em handicraftmen as well as
divers, because you know, sir, it would be of no use to send down a mere
labourer to repair the bottom of a ship, no matter how good he was at
divin'; so, you'll find among 'em masons, and shipbuilders, and
carpenters, and engineers--"

"Ah!" interrupted Edgar, "I was just wondering how they would manage if
it were found necessary to have the engines of a sunk steamer taken to
pieces and sent up."

"Well, sir," rejoined Joe, "they've got men there who can dive, and who
know as much about marine engines as you do yourself. And these men
make lots of tin, for a good diver can earn a pound a day, an' be kept
in pretty regular employment in deep water. In shallow water he can
earn from ten to fifteen shillings a day. Besides this, they make
special arrangements for runnin' extra risks. Then the savin' they
sometimes effect is amazin'. Why, sir, although you do know somethin'
of the advantages of diving, you can never know fully what good they do
in the world at large. Just take the case of the _Agamemnon_ at
Sebastopol--"

"Och!" interrupted Rooney, whose visage was perplexed by reason of his
pipe refusing to draw well, "wasn't (puff) that a good job intirely
(puff! There; you're all right at last!) He was a friend o' mine that
managed that job. Tarry, we called him--though that wasn't his right
name. This is how it was. The fleet was blazin' away at the
fortifications, an' of coorse the fortifications--out o' politeness if
nothin' else--was blazin' away at the fleet, and smoke was curlin' up
like a chimbley on fire, an' big balls was goin' about like pais in a
rattle, an' small shot like hail was blowin' horizontal, an' men was
bein' shot an' cut to pieces, an' them as warn't was cheerin' as if
there was any glory in wholesale murther--bah! I wouldn't give a day at
Donnybrook wid a shillelah for all the sieges of Sebastopool as ever I
heard tell of. Well, suddintly, bang goes a round shot slap through the
hull of the _Agamemnon_, below the water-line! Here was a pretty to do!
The ordinary coorse in this case would have bin to haul out of action,
go right away to Malta, an' have the ship docked and repaired there.
But what does they do? Why, they gets from under fire for a bit, and
sends down my friend Tarry to look at the hole. He goes down, looks at
it, then comes up an' looks at the Commodore,--bowld as brass.

"`I can repair it,' says Tarry.

"`Well, do,' says