BENEATH TROPIC SEAS 



When I started down the side of the schooner 

 there was nothing overside but a world of black- 

 ness. The only sound was the lazy tide gurgling 

 now and then around the leg of the gangway. It 

 took several minutes for my eyes to become accus- 

 tomed to the sudden glare which tore through the 

 dark like actual fire. I revolved the cable of the 

 great searchlight and guyed it fast so it pointed 

 outward. It dissolved not only the night but the 

 water as well; as far as its rays penetrated the 

 liquid was turned to air; the several jellyfish in 

 sight were drifting balloons; an occasional fish did 

 not swim but flew on its way; when my eye caught 

 sight of the keels of the motor boats, they ap- 

 peared absurd things — suspended in mid-air, and 

 unaccountably heaving and settling. 



On succeeding nights I realized the unusual value 

 of the first few minutes of observation, for it was 

 then that I saw things as they normally were on 

 the surface, in the heart of the night's darkness. I 

 was reminded of my greatest desire — that of being 

 able in May or September suddenly to flood the 

 sky with an unthinkably powerful searchlight and 

 so to see the hosts upon hosts of migrating birds — 

 millions upon millions of them, as once I saw 

 thousands roaring like a hail of golden bees past 

 the torch of the Statue of Liberty. Perched on 

 my platform I found it advisable to stare at my 

 pocket search-light for a time, so that the instant 

 the great flare was illumined my eyes would func- 

 tion. I had to look quickly, for almost at once the 



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