At Greenock, the port of Glasgow, Scotland, during the summer midshipmen's cruise of 1931, four classmates of the Naval Academy Class of 1934 were marching abreast down the pier to catch the last boat back to the ship from a liberty where we, all of Scottish descent, had been entertained royally wherever we went. We were singing something about "a wee dock and doris," when the pier made a left turn we didn't notice.
Peyton Magruder, on the outside, stepped onto air and went down like a stone. At the splash, Lieutenant (later Vice Admiral) “Whitey” Taylor, the dock officer, rushed over to see what had happened. The ice-cold water did wonders for Peyton's presence of mind; he pushed off the bottom and came up with a rush. Incredibly, he came up right under his cap and popped waist-high out of the water. Seeing the lieutenant, he saluted, reported “No bottom at ten, sir,” and sank back out of sight.
Whitey collapsed in laughter as Peyton was recovered, and no report ever was made.