FISHING IN THE HUDSON'S GORGE 379 



came within sight. On this night all were of a 

 size, about a foot long with a single individual tv/ice 

 that length. They shot back and forth across the 

 circle of light, now scarlet, now pale rose, now 

 white, and when we scooped them up in nets and 

 transferred them to our big tanks neither their ac- 

 tivity nor their shift of kaleidoscopic colors ever 

 ceased. Once, and once only there came to the 

 light a great silver-armored, fang- jawed snake 

 mackerel, headed straight for the squids. Instant- 

 ly, the keen eyes of these mollusks perceived him, 

 their bodies became colorless and they melted into 

 the blackness of the nocturnal sea. 



After lunch we made ready to raise our nets, 

 which for hom's had been drawn slowly through the 

 black, frigid depths of the Hudson gorge. This 

 lunch, by the way, was an unusually delicious one 

 of fried shark. No officer or seaman would share it 

 with us, giving us thought concerning the human 

 logic of refusing this, and yet with corresponding 

 readiness consuming raw oysters and fried pork! 



Up came the nets, sagging heavily, loaded to the 

 very limits of their breaking point. At first glance 

 they seemed filled with a bushel of glass or solid 

 water. A wild thought of submarine ice came to 

 mind and instantly resolved into absurditj% and 

 the moment the fii'st net reached the rail the truth 

 was evident. Our nets had passed through a zone 

 of almost solid jelly composed of untold myriads 

 of salpEE of three species. The tubsful of salpa 

 on deck increased until our containers were all 

 overflowing. These curious beings consisted of 



