From Pusa Pusa we fled back as fast as sail could drive us to Iasa Iasi to fetch the luggers, only to find that they were still incapable of moving?much less working. During the absence of the Mizpah, a wandering pearl-fishing lugger, owned by a man called Silva, had joined them, he having come to discover what we were doing. Finding my own boats hors de combat, ??? I told Silva of my discovery of Pusa Pusa and asked him to come and prospect the harbour, suggesting that, if we found anything worth having, we should work it together and keep its discovery secret. Silva51 protested for some time, saying that he did not like the north-east coast at all, and had only come to the point at which we were then lying in the hope of discovering what my boats were doing; he finally, however, consented to venture into Pusa Pusa providing the Mizpah went with him. Accordingly the Mizpah and Silva?s lugger sailed for that harbour, while the Ada, Hornet, and Curlew remained at Iasa Iasi awaiting the convalescence of their crews or further orders from me.

On arrival at Pusa Pusa, Silva donned the diving dress and descended, only to ascend in about ten minutes, holding a large shell in his hand and gesticulating to have his helmet removed. He said that it was a good shell bottom, promising very well indeed, but that immediately on descending he had met a groper larger than any he had ever seen, and he would prefer to remain on deck until the fish had had time to remove itself. Half an hour elapsed, Silva descended again, and almost immediately signalled, ?Pull me up.? Pulled up accordingly he was; he then complained that he had met a shark, and that?though as a general rule he did not mind sharks?this particular one was longer than the Mizpah, and he thought he preferred to be on deck! Again we waited perhaps an hour, and again Silva descended, and again came the urgent signal, ?Pull me up.? Upon his helmet being removed, he at once demanded, with many oaths, that his whole dress should be taken off; and then, seizing a tomahawk, he declaimed: ?The first time I went down in this blank place I met a groper, the next time I met a shark as big as a ship, the last time there was a ?? alligator, and if any man likes to say there is shell here I?ll knock his ?? brains out with this tomahawk!? A hero of romance would now have donned the dress and descended, but I freely confess that I?as an amateur?was not game to take on a work that a professional diver threw up as too dangerous.

Doubtless Silva?s rage was increased by the extraordinary effect air pressure has upon a man?s temper when diving. A diver may be in a perfectly amiable mood with all the world while the dress is being fitted on, but the moment the face glass is screwed home?the signal for starting the air pump?he begins to feel a little grievance or irritation; as he descends, this feeling increases until he is in a perfect fury of rage against every one in general and usually one individual in particular. After that, he spends his time in wondering how soon the dress can be taken off in order that he may half-kill that particular person, usually the tender, for some wholly imaginary offence. Another peculiar fact is, that the moment the face glass is removed and he breathes the ordinary air?even though he may have come up boiling with rage against some special individual?the bad temper evaporates like magic and he wonders what on earth caused his anger. This has invariably52 been my experience, and other divers have told me they have felt the same sensations. There is usually a perpetual feud between the diver on the bottom and the men on deck working the air pump. The diver always wants sufficient air to keep his dress distended and also to keep himself bobbing about on the bottom; if he gets too much he can let it pass away, by releasing the valve of his helmet; if he gets too little, he can signal for more, but there is no tug signal on the life-line for less air.