now desecrate the silence. But I vow it shall not be 

 if I can reach the radio first. 



Barely do I rise when plop! — something which 

 I take for a fish falls at my side flush upon the 

 deck. The spell of the receiving set is now utterly 

 broken. No longer am I the hedonist; I am become 

 the naturalist once more. When finally I give my 

 attention to the instrument, the soloist and indeed 

 all succeeding performers will have long since 

 been off the air . . . 



I hastily secure a flash-light and play its bril- 

 liant beam upon the spot whence came the sound 

 of the supposedly fallen fish, and am greeted with 

 the sight of a full-grown squid. Water wets the 

 deck for a considerable space around, showing that 

 the helpless creature had made a desperate and 

 supreme effort to regain its proper element by 

 exhausting in one discharge the contents of its 

 mantle cavity. Yet it continues the rhythmic oper- 

 ation of breathing, and the sound as of a straining 

 asthmatic gasp comes with each diastolic impulse. 

 Blushes of deep orange pass over its body in waves; 

 but the contact of my hand as I move to return it 

 to the sea immediately causes an intense stain of 



[346] 



