BENEATH TROPIC SEAS 



coral was warm buff or primuline yellow was quite 

 subservient to the fact that it might shelter a 

 lynx-eyed octopus, and until I learned to know 

 better, the sight of an approaching shark sent 

 messages to portions of my brain far other than 

 the seat of appreciation of color and beauty. It 

 was necessary to get used to the strange costume, 

 the complete submergence under water and the 

 excitement of a new world of unknown life. 



In the course of time I have learned to tramp 

 about coral reefs, twenty to thirty feet under water, 

 so unconcernedly that I can pay attention to parti- 

 cular, definite things. But after all my silly fears 

 have been allayed, even now, with eyes over- 

 flowing with surfeit of color, I am still almost 

 inarticulate. We need a whole new vocabulary, 

 new adjectives, adequately to describe the designs 

 and colors of under sea. 



The very medium of water prevents any 

 garishness, its pastel perspective compels most 

 exquisite harmony of tints. Filtered through its 

 softness, the harshest, most gaudy parrotfish 

 resolves into the delicacy of an old Chinese print, 

 an age-mellowed tapestry. If one asks for modern- 

 ist or futuristic designs, no opium dream can 

 compare with a batfish or an angry octopus. 

 The night overhead glories in a single moon; here, 

 whole schools of silvery moonfish rise, pass and 

 set before us, while at our feet rest constellations 

 of star-fish — crimson, sepia and mauve. 



An unreal, fairy fish of greens and blues and 



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