SARGASSO WEEDS AND WAVES 37 



Here then, in the midst of the sea, for a moment, 

 I peered down toward the mid-ocean ridge which 

 U^imvc Wagner would use to fill up a chink in his contin- 

 ental mosaic; which some would have as the site of 

 old Atlantis, or others strew with the weed-caught 

 wrecks of ancient galleys, medieval ships and 

 modern dreadnaughts. But no theory, whether 

 plausible or incredible, could ever people these 

 depths with beings stranger than those piscine elves 

 and hobgoblins which we were soon to draw up 

 into the light and warmth of our daylight. 



I followed the last stream of my life-bubbles to 

 the surface and slowly barged along toward the 

 Arcturus. From my fish-eye-view the ship looked 

 enormous, a towering wall of white lifting to show 

 dark, incurving expanses of slimy wood below the 

 water-line, and then plunging down with pile- 

 driver force as though to smash the impelling wave 

 that shot out from the bow in splintered foam. 



Getting aboard again was a nice problem in 

 judging time and distance; to grasp the floating 

 ladder on the downward roll and allow the reverse 

 movement to hoist you up without scraping you 

 along the timbers, to employ the next few seconds 

 in climbing high enough so that the next downward 

 roll would dangle you in mid-air instead of sprawl- 

 ing you into the water again; and finally to ac- 

 complish all this without losing goodly portions 

 of skin, was a game that required practice to be 

 well done, and luck to be done at all. 



As the last swimmer slid damply over the bul- 

 warks to the deck, the fish-horn sounded dismally 



