- TOP PLAYERSOffensePABLO S. TORRE | August 20, 2012
- TAMPA BAY buccaneersENEMY lines WHAT A RIVAL COACH SAYSJune 28, 2012
- Faces in the CrowdJune 11, 2001
"Yes, I am. Mind what you say about me."
The sick man slept fitfully and at one point woke to announce in severe tones that some idiot had fallen off the goddam raft. During the night he managed to sit up and test his reactions as pressure was reduced. The vertigo grew less severe, but it would have to vanish completely by the 20th hour or a new treatment, this one of 40 hours, would be begun.
On the next quarter-hourly ventilation of the chamber a flood of oily air poured in and Williams grabbed for the phone. "If that air's the best you've got we'll take it," he said reasonably, "but we felt you should know you're poisoning us."
"Damn it," said Light, "I fixed that compressor just the other day. Don't worry, I'll switch you back to the other one. Hope it holds out."
As early as the fifth hour the patient had been able to nod his head without tipping over. Then as the night passed the other symptoms subsided. Finally, after 19� hours the two divers crawled out into the earth's own atmosphere. Williams would not be allowed to dive for several days, the visitor for several weeks.
A full gale howled over the headlands and the wet trees writhed. In the inlet below the windows of the Rathmore House, where the divers were resting the day after the near-fatal descent, foam streaked the dark sea. Scud hit the hilltops.
Light watched the water and his fists bulged his pockets.
"Season's finished. So are we, for now. Right where we were last year. The payoff may be only two good dives away. I think the Navy officer will swear that he saw the gun. But we have to get a picture first. Then we can draw up the affidavits. That means we'll have to come back next year. We're too close to the end to quit. We're just too close."