Later, when they _did_ make the fifty-foot escape, they found that it went just the same as the eighteen-footer. Sure, it took fifty seconds, but the sensations were about the same. There was more pressure on the ears, but not enough to bother anyone. March was very surprised to hear that one of the enlisted men, near the end of the group, had suddenly gone panicky just before it was his turn to go. “Had he gone through the eighteen-foot test all right?” March asked the Chief Petty Officer in charge. “Yes—just too fast,” the man replied. “But lots of them do that at first. He must have been holding himself under control for that one, though, and the thought of the fifty was too much for him.” “Too bad,” March said. “Will they transfer him back to his old branch of the service?” “No—they’ve decided to give him another chance,” the Chief said. “The Doc—the psychological one—thinks it’s just a fear the guy never even knew he had. He’s goin’ to talk to him a bit to see if he can find out what caused it. Then maybe he can get rid of it. He won’t be able to go down in a pigboat until he handles the fifty-foot escape okay, but we’ll keep him on for a while to give him another crack at it. Good man in every other way, as far as I can see.” March learned later that the man was one of the fire controlmen who had ridden out on the bus with him. “Gee, I hope he makes it,” Scott, the radioman, said to March when they talked it over. “He’s a swell guy. Cobden’s his name, Marty Cobden. And he’s got his heart set on bein’ a submariner, dreams about it at night even. Never had the faintest notion he was scared of anything, least of all just fifty feet of water.” “Did he go swimming much?” March asked. “I asked him that, too,” Scott replied. “He says he liked to swim but he didn’t like to dive. But he wasn’t _scared_ of it!” Scott had got over his cold and had caught up with the rest of them, making the eighteen-foot and fifty-foot escapes without difficulty. “Well, we’re qualified now to go to school here,” March said. “And we can even go down in a sub. But when do we take the hundred-foot escape?” “Don’t have to,” Scott said. “But most of ’em try it, sir—some time later. They all want to see Minnie and Winnie.” “Minnie and Winnie?” March asked. “Who are they and _where_ are they?” “They’re mermaids,” Scott said without a smile. “Beautiful mermaids. And they’re painted on the walls of the tank down at the hundred-foot level. Only one way to see ’em—and that’s to make the escape. An’ you get a diploma when you’ve done it.” “I’ll see you there, Scott,” March said. “We’ll both have a look at Winnie and Minnie one of these days.” ------------------------------------------------------------------------ CHAPTER FIVE FIRST DIVE