276 Dwellers of the Sea and Shore 



ing, as her sharp prow cut into the bhickness, were the 

 only sounds that lifted themselves in the profound 

 silence of the night. Peering over the side, I beheld 

 the foam streak past in the gloom. It was all aglow, 

 as if the boat in her progress had stirred the water 

 into a seething billow of molten glass. And far 

 astern followed the wake of the vessel — a livid path 

 of sulphurous light. Like a m.eteor lost in the mighty 

 reaches of the cosmos, she seemed to be traveling 

 through space, marking her course with a fiery trail. 



Then came a change. A light wind arose and the 

 sea ran in ripples of fire. Coruscations of emerald and 

 azure and pale orange played over the radiant crests; 

 and the spray caused by the buffeting bow fell into the 

 sea like a shower of shining sparks. Dissolved from 

 the face of the w^ater was the reflex of every star. 

 The galaxy no longer loomed as a tremendous vapory 

 swing in the solitudes of the deep. Instead, as far as 

 sight could penetrate, the trembling surface gleamed 

 and flamed with a light of a far different kind; and the 

 colorful intensity paled even the brilliant spectacle of 

 those mighty suns that shimmered in the midnight sky. 



What could be the nature of that mysterious light? 

 The impulse to examine the water more closely was 

 irresistible. So, tying a rope to the bail of a bucket, 

 I lowered it over the ship's side. But I was not pre- 

 pared for such a pull as I felt when that receptacle met 

 the surface, and was nearly jerked over the rail and 

 into the sea. The speed at which the boat was going 

 made it seem as if the bucket had caught up a load of 

 melted lead. However, I did not let go (the rope was 

 new and of considerable length — therefore, valuable — 



