This is part two of a two-part series.

If you have not listened to Part 1, please start there.

Inside the Theta submarine, Lieutenant Frederick Woods opened the door of Torpedo Tube 5 and watched in horror as seawater began gushing in at 3.5 tons per second.

Woods and a few other sailors scrambled to contain the flood.

They hurried toward the next room over to shut the door and seal the torpedo room off.

Unfortunately, with her nose now taking on water, the fetus began tilting. This left the sailors

running uphill to the next room. Worse, the door in between the rooms was iron, and with the ship

tilting, it proved impossible to pull upward against gravity and close it. They finally

abandoned the door and retreated further. The next room was full of catering equipment from the

party to celebrate the Thetis' maiden voyage. Boxes and stools began sliding around, slamming into the men.

It was chaos.

They did manage to close the next door.

But with two rooms now flooded, the Thetis started sinking.

A minute later, it plowed into the seafloor 130 feet down.

Over in the control room, submarine captain Guy Bolus released a buoy

to mark their position for rescue ships. It was 3 p.m. None of the 103 men aboard had died yet,

but that would soon change. And what those men endured would forever change our understanding

of how we breathe and the surprising danger that air poses in extreme environments.

This is The Disappearing Spoon by Sam Keen, a topsy, turvy, sciencey history podcast, where footnotes become the real story.

The men trapped inside the Thetis faced some grim math.

Normally, the sub would have 53 crewmen aboard and enough air for 48 hours, but with 103

passengers that time was effectively cut in half.

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