Anger Curtailed For Want of Breath

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"