54 Dwellers of the Sea and Shore 



was of a size just roomy enough to serve as a vantage 

 point from which to view the details of the interior of 

 the ancient wreck. The angle at which the hull settled 

 was such that the greater part of this shelving wood- 

 work was above the reach of the tides. 



Between the tide marks — that is to say, in the space 

 of about seven feet — the framework was covered with 

 mussels. But their possession of the blackened timbers 

 was disputed by the barnacle and the shipworm; for the 

 fragmentary appearance of the hull showed clearly the 

 presence of this invisible but insidious last-named ani- 

 mal ceaselessly gnawing at the vitals of the woodwork. 

 In the higher levels of the transparent waters, every 

 stick and stanchion stood out distinctly. From every 

 part of the submerged structure there rose fronds of 

 seaweed and hairlike clusters of hydroids. In the dark- 

 green limpid depths could be seen dull-glowing patches 

 of red, like splashes of molten iron beginning to cool. 

 They were sponges; and their vivid hues invested the 

 homely old hull with an exotic charm. Many bizarre 

 forms were represented there. From the ascidians, or 

 sea squirts, which looked like warty growths, or excres- 

 cences, on the wood, to that delightful creature, the 

 starfish, which is an adornment to whatever surround- 

 ing it may be in, the profusion of forms seemed to be 

 as infinite as it was various. 



Such is the general, and necessarily imperfect, pic- 

 ture of what, to me at least, was a marine paradise. 

 Whether or not this mass of rotten wreckage would 

 have excited in others the same emotions that filled me, 

 I do not know. But many were the splendid hours that 

 fell to my lot as I lay under the summer sun peering 



