Trapped in a Sunken Ship
理查德·米兰达 / Richard Miranda
With a loud noise， the corroded bulkhead collapsed， sealing off the diver' s escape route. Now， as he groped desperately through the dark maze of drowned passageways， he could measure his life expectancy precisely—by the 25-minute supply of air in his tan...
Had I known what was facing me on June 16， 1979， I would never have left the dock. As it was， preoccupied with the wreck of the USS San Diego， I headed my 47-foot diveboat， the Barnacle Bill， out of Jones Inlet， Long Island， N.Y.
An American heavy cruiser， the San Diego had met her fates in 1918 as she escorted cargo ships about ten miles south of Fire Island. Some crew members claimed the warship struck a mine. As a professional diveboat captain I didn' t care why she sank， only that I had a good crew and 20 scuba divers aboard， all eager to hit the water in search of artifacts.
Three and a half hours later， the Barnacle Bill arrived at the wreck， and we dropped our grappling hook. I summoned crew members Dorecn Olsen and Lars Hansen， and we prepared the vessel for the dive. Since Doreen and Lars are both licensed captains， they could attend the Barnacle Bill while I dived.
Once the topside chores were taken care of， I suited up， hit the water with a splash and swam toward the anchor line. The water was crystal clear. Most of the divers were already at the bottom， and I could see their bubbles coming to the surface. What a sight！
Twenty feet down， I could already make out the wreck's dark outline， rising off the bottom like the lonely ruins of a cathedral.
I headed toward the stern， looking for an opening in the hull that I had used on earlier dives. I knew it would take me to the small arms locker where I had previously located boxes of ammunition. The guns themselves should be nearby， I figured： They would make great souvenirs， even if corroded.