NO-MAN'S-LAND FIVE FATHOMS DOWN 



purples appears in the distance, vanishes forever, 

 yet the next moment is close to the glass of our 

 helmet, peering in at us, mouthing soundless Ohsl 

 We try to catch him, with the same success as 

 snatching a sunbeam from the upper air. As he 

 balances calmly, easily, in mid-water, we count the 

 distinct colors on his scales, and stop at the four- 

 teenth, for he has shifted slightly and every single 

 tint and hue has altered. 



I walk toward a coral palace in the distance and 

 work more magic. It is of the most delicately 

 tinted lavender, picked out with patches of orange. 

 I lean closer to get the exact shade, when every 

 particle of color vanishes — the feathery-headed 

 worms whose tentacles covered the surface have 

 withdrawn like lightning into their tubes, and I 

 see that the orange was merely reflection and that 

 the coral is actually salmon-pink. My hand now 

 brushes the surface and between winks the thou- 

 sands of minute polyps disappear within their stony 

 home, revealing at last the beautiful clear ivory of 

 the real coral. Bewildered after this three-ply 

 palimpsest of color, I look aside just in time to see 

 a fish, in brilliant shining blue with three broad, 

 vertical bands of brown, swim slowly into a fairy 

 cavern. A few minutes later the identical fish 

 emerges clad in brilliant yellow, thickly covered 

 with black polka-dots. 



This spirit of astonishing happenings, of ex- 

 quisite magic, of ineffable, colorful mystery is the 

 theme of this watery world, and should be the chief 



37 



