BENEATH TROPIC SEAS 



I skirted it, now and then pushing in when I 

 caught sight of a silvery upturned belly. But 

 these were all common parrotfish or demoiselles 

 and I knew that I must bore straight in. It was a 

 weird sensation to lose oneself completely in this 

 submarine smoke and, except for less than a foot 

 away, vision was useless in every direction. I felt 

 and crept, peered and crawled, twice stumbling 

 so that the water flooded my face, and several 

 times reached far down and unmercifully scraped 

 off skin on sharp coral when I caught a glimpse of 

 purple, only to find it was a bit of sponge or sea- 

 fan. I had scrambled along for some time and 

 began to look for clear water on the farther side 

 of the explosion, but the water seemed as opaque 

 as ever. It then occurred to me that the current 

 might be carrying the cloud with me, so I turned 

 off at right angles. My air got rather bad, and 

 the water rose to my mouth, and I composed sev- 

 eral pertinent sentences to recite to my slacking 

 pumper when I should get within speaking dis- 

 tance. Then I forgot my bruised limbs and my 

 labored breathing, for there, dimly silhouetted 

 through the murk, balanced delicately as a feather 

 in the crotches of two broken coral twigs, rested 

 my purple and gold little bass. I grasped at it 

 so quickly that it shot out from between my fingers 

 into the hopeless cloud. I feared that it had van- 

 ished forever, for beneath me was a tangle of 

 broken branches through which I could never force 

 my way. Sprawling quickly after it, I again saw 



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