BENEATH TROPIC SEAS 



followers today than we imagine. The house that 

 lacks a fire-place is like a hypnotist without his 

 shining jewel. The man who sits with his back 

 to a camp-fire is not normal. Incendiaries are 

 more abundant than revivalists. Jack-light hunt- 

 ing is the easy sport of cowards. A candle in the 

 window is a loadstone to more than the signalled 

 traitor. One electric Broadway sign is worth fifty 

 daytime advertisements. Even the three wise men 

 were assembled and directed on their way by a 

 single point of light. 



In the glare of high noon or at any time in full 

 daylight, when I towed a net along the surface of 

 Port-au-Prince Bay I would snare only a scattering 

 of organisms. Fish appeared at the surface in 

 numbers or leaped out mostly at times of stress 

 or danger. The real abundance of life began a 

 few fathoms down. On dark nights I would cap- 

 ture much more life in my tow-net, hundreds of 

 small beings where by day there were tens. In the 

 moonlight there was very slim picking, the cold 

 rays seeming to press the swimmers down to where 

 the deeper waters sieved out the sinister lunar 

 power. 



Desirous of using every available bit of time 

 during the four months of our stay in this wonder- 

 land of waters, I had brought with me two mighty 

 submarine lights, of one hundred and fifty and of 

 two thousand candle-power. The larger was so 

 powerful that it could not be burned in the air, but 

 had to be sunk before we dared turn on the switch. 



78 



