A Diver's Escape

1899

The diver's greatest danger, says a writer in Chambers's Journal, is the possible entangling and choking of the air-pipe on which he depends for a supply of oxygen. The writer gives an experience of his own, which he styles the "closest shave" he ever had. The gates of a lock had been repaired, and he had gone down to see that all was finished satisfactorily. With twenty feet of dirty dock water above him, he felt the great gates, each many tons in weight, which were to be shut while he was down, in order that he might see whether all worked well. He says:

When ready I sent up the signal, and in a few moments felt the gate upon which my hand rested begin slowly to move. It was not long before I realized that I had made a serious mistake.

As soon as the huge masses were in motion I was gently lifted off my feet by the swirl of water in the narrow lock, and irresistibly sucked toward the meeting point of the gates. I made vigorous efforts, by clutching at and pressing against the gate surface, to save myself from being carried along, for once between the gates I must be crushed to death. On I went, however, into the rapidly narrowing gap, but fortunately I went through it, although the gates were so nearly closed that, as I passed through, I felt a leg knock against the end of each gate.

Once on the other side I was pulled up by the air-pipe tightening against the end of one of the gates, and was just congratulating myself on my escape when I suddenly realized that the pipe was still between the closing masses. A death hardly less horrible, and certainly more drawn out, than the one I had just escaped now threatened me, for with the pipe crushed flat I should be a prisoner until smothered for lack of air.

I had no knife or I could have cut the pipe, slipped off my weights, and trusted to the chance of a shoot upward.

At the very last moment, when the gates were almost closed, an inspiration came to me. I had a hammer slung to my waist by a lanyard tied to the handle. It was the work of an instant to thrust this between the meeting gate-ends.

Almost immediately I felt the jar upon it as it took the strain, and I found that there was no diminution of the rush of air into the helmet. My frail connection with the world above was uninjured.

Before I could make up my mind what to do next I felt the hammer loosen in its position, and the gates begin to open again. As they opened I was again carried through by the current, and placed on the other side — the right one for me. I hurriedly gave the signal to be hauled up, and was thankful enough to be at the surface. — Youth's Companion.

Perils of a Pearl Diver

1895

Hanging Head Down For Half an Hour Before Being Rescued

I had not been diving more than three weeks when my first accident happened, says a writer in the Cosmopolitan, and it was so utterly unexpected and so nearly cost me my life that it taught me a lesson which I never forgot.

It happened in the following simple way: "I had been working in about ten fathoms of water, a fairly good patch of shell, for several hours, and about dinner time, having a full bag, I screwed up the valve, to make myself lighter, and gave the customary signal to be pulled up. The life-line tautened, and I was soon lifted from my feet and being drawn toward the lighter water above. The angry frame of mind that usually attends a diver at work passes away he is raised to the surface, and I was within ten feet of the boat, and just getting good-tempered again at the thought of a mouthful of fresh air, when I felt a sudden jerk under my left arm, and at the same instant my progress was stopped. Before I realized what was the matter the air pipe that held it under my arm, slipped over it, and I was pulled head downward, while the hauling of the boys above on the life-line, which was fast around my waist, raised the lower part of my body and left me suspended heels up!

"In the first few moments of my surprise and terror I did not stop to think what had happened; my presence of mind deserted me, and I struggled and screamed like a caged madman. I felt that I was trapped and I was in an agony of fright. After a little while, having kicked myself into a state of exhaustion and common sense, I reasoned out the case of my dilemma. As the strain on the air pipe was downward and that of the life-line upward, I concluded that the air pipe must be fast below, and that the only thing to be done was to go down again and clear it.

"First, I regulated the air in my dress, letting out as much as I could spare, for in my present position all the air went into my legs and kept them floating upward, and then I tried to make the boys understand that I wanted them to lower me. All my jerks and shakes on the life-line, however, failed to get what I wanted. They obstinately held the line taut, trying every few minutes to pull me in halves. Fortunately all my gear was in very good shape or they would have accomplished it. I learned afterward that all on deck were so scared that they were of no use, but they finally had sense enough to signal for help, and, after hanging between the top and the bottom for about half an hour, my air pipe was loosened from below by another diver and I was pulled up, thankful enough to get my feet down to their proper level once more."

Japanese Man "Farming" Oysters for Crop of Pearls

1912

RAISING PEARLS ON "FARM"

Japanese Has Decided He Can Produce Them on Land Laid Out in Ocean's Bed

Mr. Mikinoto's oyster farm in the Bay of Ago, off the coast of Japan. is one of the few successful attempts at the deliberate production of pearls. Mikinoto spent several years in costly experiments before he perfected his scheme.

Then he secured government patents and, according to Popular Mechanics, has succeeded in getting his "farm" on a paying basis. He first makes a bed for his crop in the shallows of the bay, where the larvae of the pearl oyster abound during the months of July and August.

He merely deposits a large number of small stones, to which the oyster spat naturally attach themselves. Then his diving women transplant the young oysters to deeper waters to protect them from the cold.

Here they lie on carefully prepared beds until in their third year they become full grown, and have firmly attached themselves to the stones by means of "necks" which they secrete.

At this time the diving women bring the mollusks to the surface and they undergo an operation. A small seed pearl is introduced into the center of the shell. Then the oysters are replanted in the bed and left alone for four years.

When they are again brought to the surface it is found that the seed pearl nucleus has been covered with many layers of the nacre, a secretion of the mollusk, and the large, brilliant translucent pearl of commerce has been formed.

But the process is not as simple as it appears. During the seven years that the farmer must wait for his crop to mature a large percentage of the oysters die. The oyster beds are raided by such enemies as the octopus and the starfish.

Occasionally the "red current" sweeps over them and in a day destroys the entire crop. At all times the farmer must keep his oyster bed free of "miruno," a seaweed which will smother the crop.

Women divers trained from girlhood to long immersions in the Sea are engaged at 20 cents a day to care for the farm. In this work they wear nothing but a head cloth, a white shirt and diving goggles. At each dive they can gather several oysters and return to the surface.

A dive occupies about one minute, and a day's work is from four to six hours. An expert can readily gather 500 oysters a day in a depth of water ranging from two to six fathoms. To keep at the work for a day they must frequently come up and warm themselves at a fire.

—The Daily Commonwealth, Fond du Lac, Wisconsin, December 17, 1912, page 8.


Love of Books

Book love, my friends, is your pass to the greatest, the purest and the most perfect pleasure that God has prepared for his creatures. It lasts when all other pleasures fade. It will support you when all other recreations are gone. It will last you until your death. It will make your hours pleasant to you as long as you live. — Anthony Trollope.

—The Daily Commonwealth, Fond du Lac, Wisconsin, December 17, 1912, page 6.