Nearly hundred years ago a boat of a petroleum company arrived in Tenerife. It was its task to search for petrol along the
shore. For several weeks it was anchored in the distance of about a mile from the seacoast and its divers were exploring the bottom in a perfect diving suite. There were rumours in the town that divers carried out a promising find – asphalt - already after one of the first explosions of charge fired in undersea rocks. And where is asphalt there is usually also petrol. But then one diver was struck with disaster.
It was Saturday and a bigger part of the crew, among them also divers, left to town in search of entertainment. The only man – Robert Key – wanted to finish the inspection round of his undersea section and continued in his work on the warmed up deck despite the lamenting of
sailors. Armed with a huge tine he was turning stones, which were charged and three times in an hour he was sending a signal with an agreed sign back to the deck – that everything was all right. Suddenly the sailors by the reel and signalling rope became very alarmed. The signal has not been coming for twenty, thirty, forty minutes. The diver did not respond to an appeal for a message.
The officer on duty was straight away asking the port for help with a mores code. Unfortunately, the port diver from Tenerife had a day off and to search for divers from the other boats in the many towns’ pubs was hopeless.
What made thinks worse was that the weather was deteriorating. It was not impossible that a strong storm would soon set off, when it is necessary to sail with the boat towards the shore, because in the stormy sea it cannot hold on the anchor. Six best swimmers sailors were attempting to plunge right down to the diver. Even after quarter of an hour effort none of them
managed. They, however, found out that Robert Kay is probably living; they glimpsed him several times in the depth of approximately 15 metres.
Otakar’s friend stood then on the port mole and watched the rescue works from a distance. When someone pulled on his sleeve – it was black Mahmud who said that his one year younger brother would try.
From all the boys he can hold his breath and stay under water longest.
You know well Sir that I am the best diver in the port. Small Ali said.
Otakar’s friend knew the boys insurmountable pieces. He grabbed his hand and they were running to the nearest motorboat. They sailed to the boat. Ali was not thinking twice, he is throwing his coat and shirt away, he makes a few deep breaths – and is jumping into the water. Suddenly the signalling rope swings several times.
The sailors are rejoicing; they are reading from the jerky vibration.
“I am submerged under a loose stone – not injured – help is on the way!”
Ali is emerging from the water and thinks that he managed to loosen the rope.
He was going to clinch a chain under the stone. He was going to hold on to it and asked the sailor to pull it to the side of the boat, which was the correct direction.
Ali dived into the depth several times before he managed to clinch the steel hook. Until finally he appeared and shouted.
Senor Vidoux – ready! You can lower the reel.
The shaft is turning slowly, the chain is tightening, and the sailors are ready to pull from all their strength to the side of the boat.
In the next minute a silver diving helmet of Robert Key is appearing on the surface and in its near proximity even Ali’s curly head. The little black boy is praising the crew as if he did not know that it was him who undertook the most important rescue work.
And do you know, my friends, what Ali chose when the captain offered him a reward?
A gramophone!