DAVEY JONES' GOBLINS 349 



genes stumbling along with a lighted lantern in his 

 hand. 



From four hundred and fifty fathoms, or about 

 half a mile, I took several fish at Station Seventy- 

 four, of the euphonious name of Bathypterois 

 (Fig. 47). For these we can find a more reason- 

 able simile — that of a blind man walking down the 

 street and tapping with his cane ahead of him as 

 he goes. They were good-sized fish, six inches to 

 a foot in length, black as usual, and although the 

 eyes were present, they were exceedingly degen- 

 erate and apparently useless. The pectoral fins 

 were compensation, being split up into numerous, 

 elongated rays, the lower ones of which reached 

 almost as far back as the tail. When spread out 

 sideways these formed a great sensory portiere, 

 while the upper one on each side was still longer 

 and divided at the tip into two feelers, so that these 

 controlled a still wider field of touch. In lieu of 

 eyes, these many fingers enabled the fish to obtain 

 food, to avoid danger and to find its mate — 

 and when this is said and done the destiny of a 

 fish is accomplished. 



Let us turn from fishes for a moment and go 

 out on the deck of the Arcturiis in answer to a shout 

 concerning an incoming net. The great silk cone 

 rose dripping from the waves, and at the apex I 

 could see a sagging mass of pale salmon jelly. 

 This I carefully decanted into a white enamel pan 

 and carried into the laboratory. The mass was icy 

 cold, and no wonder, for it had been strained from 

 waters three-fourths of a mile beneath the vessel. 



