DAVEY JONES' GOBLINS 345 



which they are used, they roll and twist up and 

 up — gravitation for the moment helpless, and fi- 

 nally expire from the heat and light and lowered 

 pressure, and float at the surface until devoured by 

 fish or bird, or captured by some lucky scientist. 



I was led to believe that all the deep sea crea- 

 tures would come up disfigured, with internal or- 

 gans forced out, eyes displaced, scales gone. But 

 for some reason good fortune was with us and again 

 and again deep sea fish and other organisms lived 

 from two minutes to as many hours, — and swam 

 and breathed and sent forth barrages from their 

 luminescent batteries — the strength of which some- 

 times lighted up the whole dark-room where I 

 studied them. 



Now and then there was enacted some little dra- 

 matic incident before my eyes which revealed the 

 ways of life in this underworld. One of the best 

 known camouflages is the trick played by a squid 

 when threatened. He shoots out a dense cloud of 

 sepia ink — a most efficient smoke screen which, 

 in the sunlit, surface waters, wholly blinds any as- 

 sailant, and in the ensuing confusion the squid 

 darts off backward to safety. No better plan could 

 be imagined in sunlight, but how futile such a habit 

 would be in the stygian darkness six hundred fath- 

 oms down. Not far from New York City I took 

 from that depth a scarlet prawn two inches long 

 (Plate VII). As usual I put it in a large jar of 

 water and rushed with it into the dark-room. When 

 my eyes became accustomed to the darkness I 

 watched carefully and long, but not a flicker or 



