The Green caldron - University Library

20
The Green Caldron
In the Caldron Twenty Years Ago
Raising the Genevieve
Roger Bullard
Rhetoric II, Theme 11, 1940-1941
PRESSURE POUNDED ON MY EARDRUMS AND AN ICY
current of water swirled suddenly about my legs as I sank ankle-
deep into the soft mud of the lake bottom. The homemade diving
helmet, resting securely upon my shoulders, was now very light in comparison
to its weight on the surface. The monotonous and steady "whuff, whuff"
of the compressed air entering the helmet reminded me of the small two-
cylinder hand pump and of my friends twenty feet above me on the surface.
Darkness enveloped me; I thought of the dazzling brilliance of the June
sun shining on the smooth water above—of the world that I had departed
from only a few minutes before. It was my first experience in diving, and
I didn't know whether to enjoy it or not.
To say that diving, especially in a homemade helmet, is an uncommon
thrill is to put it mildly indeed. The diver is completely alone—there is
no means of communication with other persons except the thin signal cord
tied to his wrist. The water of a lake bottom is usually so dark and muddy
that it is impossible for the diver to see more than six inches in front of his
small glass window. Currents of cold water curl sinuously around his legs.
Rocks and sunken logs trip him and bark his shins. And always there is the
diver's dire fear that his air supply will fail. Iron nerves and a certain amount
of bravery are certainly needed before one can make his first dive.
It was in the summer of 1939 that our little party of four rowed out to
the middle of Lake Springfield and began practice. Lake Springfield, a
body of water about twelve miles long and two miles wide, had the summer
before been the scene of a catastrophe. The Genevieve, a. flashy motor boat
belonging to a friend of mine, had struck a floating log and sunk, a jagged
hole yawning from the underside of the bow. Jim, the owner of the boat,
and George and Rupe and I began immediately to plan for her recovery.
We first determined the depth of the water by dropping a rope over the
side of the rowboat. We found it to be twenty feet deep—too deep for
ordinary diving. After plotting the exact scene of the wreck by trees and
cottages on the shore, we began plans for building a diving helmet .
Having obtained several diving manuals from the library, we soon decided
upon a pattern for our helmet and began construction in George's basement.
The helmet was simple in appearance but required much hard and
tedious work to make. It consisted mainly of the end section of an old