AN OLD-FASHIONED AUSTRALIAN WELCOME 15
those who get backed by the shell- and pearl-buyers come off best."
"How's that?"
"All
a matter of heads I win, tails you lose. The buying of a lugger, the
equipping and running of her, are a mug's game. Figure for yourself! A
man might do it on $7,500 and with a bit of luck keep his head above
water until he's made a good break. But only a few do it. Listen to me!
Lay off that unless you want to be a mug. You take my advice. The
straight ones go west, every time. Those who buy snide out at sea from
the shell-openers or other luggers get on. The others don't. Savvy?"
"I
see," I said, though I did not, then. "Anyway, I'm not in the market
for luggers yet. I'm looking round. ... Is diving really a dangerous
job?"
"Barring accidents, no. If the rubber hose breaks because it should have gone into the discard long ago, whose fault is that?"
"The owner's, I should say."
"Exactly.
The blinking, niggardly owner's. And if a sword-fish cuts through the
hose and the diver drowns, whose fault is that, would you say?"
"I suppose it would be an accident."
"Quite
so. But if a housepainter is standing on a ladder and a bus comes on
the pavement and knocks the ladder down and does him in, that's an
accident too. There are accidents in every trade. The real dangers, if
you like, are octopuses below and a tender above who's taken a dislike
to you and disregards your signals. And, what's worse, drink. Hard
drinks and soft women and too much tobacco—those are the things that
make a diver's job dangerous. What do you think these chaps do when
they get their first big advance? They booze and go after the women and
catch a dose that makes them unfit to get into a diving-dress."
"But surely they must know the risk they're taking!"
"Maybe that's why," said the beachcomber cryptically.
