THE SHARKS OF NARBOROUGH 171 



other shores of the Galapagos. The surf had 

 pounded and rolled the rocks on this unprotected 

 coast until they had become huge pebbles. This 

 explained the absence of tide-pools along the shore 

 — the water simply filtering away as soon as the 

 tide level went down. 



The dominant note of this under-water scene in 

 this marvellous island eddy was the sea-weed. 

 Great fields of it extended to the limit of vision, 

 with bare or sponge-covered boulders between. 

 Sargassum with small berries, grew on long, slender 

 fronds, two or three feet in length, which gave com- 

 pletely to every surge, more so than any land 

 growth to the wind. While I have dived where 

 steady currents hold in one direction day and night, 

 yet by the very force of circumstances, my puny 

 efforts are usually confined to the surge-affected 

 shore. Like a tide which changes every twelve sec- 

 onds instead of every twelve hours, the whole 

 underworld swayed outward and then, with in- 

 finite grace, inward again. All of the innmnerable 

 strands of greenish olive bent and flattened away 

 from me, and then, with the slow movement at- 

 tained only rarely by such growths as weeping wil- 

 lows, rolled toward and wrapped around me, reach- 

 ing out toward the steep ascent marking the 

 beginning of that upper world which seemed so 

 little a part of my life at a moment like this. As 

 the grass shifted and vibrated, many weird little 

 inhabitants were disclosed for a moment, and then 

 scuttled back to shelter — wrasse never seen before 

 or since, twisting worms, crabs and snails, all iden- 



