Fayetteville observer. [volume] (Fayetteville, Tenn.) 1850-1966, 1869-11-04
DOWN AMONG THE DEAD MEN.
THE STORY OF A DETROIT DIVER.

ia - Sut VI " CSbtSit Sateh
1t is a strange business this div.
ing The danger fascinates some
but the peril is never for a mo-
ment lost sight of. / put on the
helmet for the first time more than
ten years ago, and yet | never re-
sumo it without a feeling that il
may be the last time | shall ever
60 down. OF course one has more
confidence after a while, but there
is something in being shut up in
an armor, weighed down with q
hundred pounds, and knowing
that a little leak in your life pipe
is your death, that no diver can
ever get rid of. And | do not
know that / should care to Danish
the feeling, for the sight Of the
clear, blue sky, the genial sun,
and the face Of fellow-man, al
ter long hours among the fishes,
make you feel like one who has
suddenly been drawn away from
the grasp of death. I have had
some narrow escapes while pur-
suing my strange profession; eve
ry diver has, or has been unusu-
ally lucky TO escape them.
| think the most dangerous
place ever got into was going
down to examine the propeller
Comet, sunk off Toledo. In work
ing about her bottom, | got my
air pipe rolled over large silver
from the stoven hole, and could
not reach it with my hands. Ev-
cry time l sprang up to remove
the hose my tender would give
Inc the 'slack' of the line, thus
letting me fall back again. He
did not understand his duties, and
did not know what my signals on
the life line meant. 1t was
two hours and a half before / was
relieved, and there wasn't a mo.
ment that / was not looking to
see the hose cut by ragged wood.
It's a strange feeling you have
down there. You go walking
over a vessel, clambering up her
sides, peering here and there, and
feeling that you are alone makes
you nervous and uneasy.
Sometimes a vessel sinks down
so f4irly that she stands up on the
bottom as trim and as neat as if
she rode on the surface. Then you
can 90 down into the cabin, up the
shrouds, walk all over, just as easi-
ly as a sailor could if she were
dashing away before the breeze.
Only it seems SO quiet, so tomb
like; there are no waves down
there--only a swaying back and
forth of the waters and see-saw-
ing of the ship. You hear moth
ing from above. The great fishes
will come swimming about, rub
bing their noses against your glass
and staring with o wondering look
into your eyes. The very still
ness sometimes gives life a chill.
You hear just moaning, wailing
sound, like the last note of an
organ, and you cannot help but
think Of dead men floating ever
around you.
l have been down especially to
rescue the bodies of those drowned.
About four years ago the propel-
Ier Buckeye, belonging to the
Northern Transportation Com
pany, sunk in the river St. Law
renee, in seventy-eight feet of wa.
ter. and it was known that a moth
er and child were asleep in THEN
state.room at the time of her sink
ing. The father begged of ne
and offered me q great deal of
money to take out the cOrpses.
and though ] dreaded the work, !
at last consented. l had been all
over the wreck two or three times
and knew just where The state
room was. The door was fast
locked, and waited a good while
before bursting it open.
OF course the dead person
no., h,,A nuan In