I used often to wonder how poor Peterkin would have liked to be with us; and he sometimes expressed much regret at being unable to join us.

I used to do my best to gratify him, poor fellow, by relating all the wonders that we saw; but this, instead of satisfying, seemed only to whet his curiosity the more, so one day we prevailed on him to try to go down with us.

But, although a brave boy in every other way, Peterkin was very nervous in the water, and it was with difficulty we got him to consent to be taken down, for he could never have managed to push himself down to the bottom without assistance.

But no sooner had we pulled him down a yard or so into the deep clear water, than he began to struggle and kick violently, so we were forced to let him go, when he rose out of the water like a cork, gave a loud gasp and a frightful roar, and struck out for the land with the utmost possible haste.
Now, all this pleasure we were to forego, and when we thought thereon, Jack and I felt very much depressed in our spirits.

I could see, also, that Peterkin grieved and sympathized with us, for, when talking about this matter, he refrained from jesting and bantering us upon it.
As, however, a man's difficulties usually set him upon devising methods to overcome them, whereby he often discovers better things than those he may have lost, so this our difficulty induced us to think of searching for a large pool among the rocks, where the water should be deep enough for diving yet so surrounded by rocks as to prevent sharks from getting at us.