ALMOST ISLAND 



once went to the trouble of carrying down a shore 

 goby in a vial. After considerable difficulty with the 

 cork, due to the increased pressure at this depth, I 

 liberated him, and my ego was pleased to see him 

 streak for the surface. I felt more at home than 

 before, and hailed the sand gobies and blue surgeons 

 and emerald parrots as brethren of the same caste 

 as I — we who could make our way far below where 

 Bathygobius soporator was comfortable. Such is 

 submarine snobbishness ! 



Lizard-fish and other sand-colored friends lived 

 about me on the ocean floor, but as I sat quietly, un- 

 expected visitors sometimes passed, paying no at- 

 tention to this harmless projection seated in mid- 

 sand, periodically spouting a geyser of bubbles. 

 Without warning, two fish came toward me, side by 

 side, each well over three feet in length, graceful 

 and of superb beauty. They were yellow-tails — 

 oxidized silver, with a broad golden band along the 

 sides. A yellow-tail twelve inches in length is a 

 large yellow-tail to the Bermudian angler. These 

 giants had small, high-bred heads, arched backs and 

 toward the tail their bodies narrowed hke an ath- 

 lete's waist, and behind all there waved a mighty 

 reversed crescent of a tail. Their movements were 

 effortless, their path in life was assured, their desires 

 distinctly attainable — they know their stuff. For 

 several yards they swam evenly, unhurriedly, then, 

 one after the other, like perfectly synchronized 

 parts of a single bit of mechanism, they dipped to 

 the sand, each scooped up a great mouthful, and on 



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