SARGASSO WEEDS AND WAVES 35 



In the afternoon of the typical day of which I 

 am writing the Arcturus stopped again for the 

 purpose of giving us an opportunity of using the 

 reversing thermometers, — ingenious instruments 

 for obtaining temperatures and samples of water 

 at different depths. The waves had been smooth- 

 ing out all day and finally it looked possible to 

 take an ocean swim. We had planned that such 

 bathing would be a regular part of the program 

 in this sea where, we had fondly believed, calm 

 waters were the rule, but as none of us had ex- 

 perience in English Channel contests, we had so 

 far gazed on the boisterous waves without enthu- 

 siasm. We took instant advantage of the present 

 comparative placidity, and a pilot ladder was un- 

 rolled over the side. Down this, those who were 

 unwilling or unable to make a high dive, conserva- 

 tively descended, and discovered that the placidity, 

 noticed with such satisfaction from the deck, was 

 only comparative. 



I swam rapidly away for fifty yards and then 

 turned and gave myself up to a realization of my 

 position in relation to old Mother Earth. A glance 

 around brought a tremendous thrill. The swells 

 were smooth but mountain high, not wave-like but 

 as if the whole horizon were a range of mountains 

 marching majestically toward me. My own move- 

 ment was negligible; I seemed for a long time to 

 be floating at the bottom of a gigantic ultramarine 

 cone, then slowly and gently to rise — high, high, 

 higher, — until I dominated the Arcturus and 

 seemed to approach the drifting clouds overhead. 



