BENEATH TROPIC SEAS 



slowly along, then sit quietly and watch a single 

 sandy glade or coral castle for adventure. I 

 selected a cushion of soft growth upon a coral 

 stool and let my eye drown itself in the color all 

 about. My attention kept going back again and 

 again to a great font of a sponge. It was not 

 especially striking in size nor of perfect symmetry, 

 nor of unusual brilliance — a greyish violet as I 

 remember, but it was satisfying, — b. characteristic 

 indefinite but very real, if only we will relax before 

 things about us and let unimportantness fade 

 away. 



As I looked, my memory shifted forward and 

 back and at last came to a rest upon the wonderful 

 tale of the pursuit curve of the Greeks, the tractrix 

 of which a great philosopher once told me. It 

 was the ideal curve which had a definite beginning 

 or start, but whose arc left no inkling of con- 

 tinuance or of exact radius. It was the pursuit 

 curve, and to my joy as I thought of it in my water- 

 buried, helmet chamber, I actually saw it enacted. 

 A coral and a gorgonia had grown together almost 

 at right angles and down the latticework swam 

 slowly a small parrotfish. It traversed the side 

 of the gorgonia and half the straight line of the 

 coral, when there darted out from a diminutive 

 cavern, just beyond, an infuriated butterflyfish. 

 The latter was half the size of the other, but eight 

 times larger emotionally, and, with sharp spines 

 erect, it fairly flew in defence of its home. With 

 a six-inch start the dusky parrot turned and 



42 



