human
I did a queer job of diving once down into the hold of a steamship, a National liner, that lay in her dock, blazing with electric lights, and dry as a bone. Just the same, I needed my suit when I got down into her--in fact, I wouldn't have lasted there very long without air from the pump.
gpt
Some queer cargo?
human
That's it. She was loaded with caustic soda, or whatever they make bleaching-powder of--barrels and barrels of it, with the heads broke in after a storm, and it wasn't good stuff to breathe, I can tell you. First they set men shoveling it out, with sponges in their mouths, against the dust and gases, but one man coughed so hard he tore something in his lungs or head and died. Then they sent for a diver--that was me--and I worked hours down there hoisting and shoveling, like I was at the bottom of the bay, only there was no water to carry the weight. Say, but wasn't that suit heavy, and when I looked out through my helmet-glasses it seemed as if I was digging through a snow-field, with such a terrible dazzle it made my eyes ache to look at it.
gpt
I suppose you don't usually see much under water?
human
Depends on what water it is,
gpt
All rivers around New York are black as ink twenty feet down,
human
I know they are, said Timmans,
gpt
Any sharks?