Twas the night after our dives, there was nothing else to do,
Not a diver was stirring, not even the crew.
Our gear were all hanging by the smoke stack with care,
With hopes of dry wetsuits in the morn would be there.
The divers were tossing and turning in beds,
While visions of sea life swam in their heads.
And my buddy in his thermals and I counting sheep,
Had just settled down for a long waited sleep.
When out of the sudden there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bunk to see what was the matter!
Away to the main deck, I hit my head twice,
My bare feet remind me the deck felt like ice.
The moon on the breast of the ocean swell below,
Gave the sea life swimming a strange eerie glow.
When what to my ears I now realize I hear,
But the sounds are below deck, someone sleeping I fear!
If it keeps up all night it will be quite boring,
I knew in a moment it must be V snoring!
More intense than a fog horn his choruses they came,
He whistled and snorted, I had for each a unique name.
A burp and a cough, a roar and a grumble,
A wheeze and a gurgle, then a fart with a giggle!
To the anchor at the bow, to the steps at the stern,
Avoiding the racket, I couldn’t, I learned.
Just as seasick divers, in as much as they try,
Will invariably sicken, and bolt for the sky,
So up to the main deck his choruses they flew
With a rumbling rhythm like a thundering brew.
And then there appeared a twinkling of Sun
The billowing rumble subsided till done.
As I drew my head and was turning around
Up the stairway Vahagn came with a bound.
He was dressed all in neoprene from his head to his boot
And he motioned with hand signals as if he were mute.
A bundle of dive gear he had strapped to his back
He was ready to jump in, my gear still in my pack.
His gear how it twinkled! His mask around his neck.
His hoses were all tucked in, he really looked high tech.
His droll little mouth was drawn like a frown.
V was impatient with me, he wanted to go down.
The mouthpiece of a reg he held tight in his teeth
And air bubbles they circled his head like a wreath.
He had checked all his gauges which he tucked at his belly,
He hovered there motionless like a fish made of jelly.
V motioned me round and checked my gear twice,
The assurance and comfort he gives me is nice.
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
He gave me the O.K. sign and led the way,
He was already familiar with Monterey Bay.
Finally laying his fingers aside of his nose
And giving the up sign, with the air bubbles he rose.
He sprang to the dive step, to the dive master signed O.K.
He shed all his dive gear, he had called it a day.
But I heard him exclaim ere he drove down the street,
“It was a good dive trip; let’s get something to eat!”
Happy New Year!