Anger Curtailed For Want of Breath

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Diving deep, it was dark, cold and slimy.
Regulator dummy-splat gulps of air
    flowing free into lungs, bubbling blabs out.
I struggled with the mud core collector,
    to swiftly exit hole hundred feet down.
Just when the deed was all done and dusted,
    I sucked for gasp - a spurt and then it stopped.
I reached up to turn reserve air tank on
    but nothing, no surge of air, just fear flow.
No air, a hundred feet down, in despair!
I remembered my training - don't panic!
I tugged three times on safety line - again
No reply, so I faced a free ascent.
I dropped my weight belt, inflated the vest
    pursed my lips and whistled, releasing air
    in steady stream, fighting desire to stop,
    to keep the precious gulp of air in lung.
Straining and kicking frantically up
    at last I burst through the surface to gasp
    gulps of fresh air, sucked in with great relief,
And then it happened, there was my dear mate 
    fiddling head down with tangled safety rope
    oblivious to my plight - near death fight.
So relieved to be alive, all I said:
"Hey Mate, so nice to see you here again"

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