NONSUCH 



yards farther east, then I reached the outer zone 

 where the rollers only rose and fell, and the only 

 unpleasant thing was the choppiness of the water. 

 This slapped, slapped in my face, until I turned 

 over and sculled with my hands. 



A minute passed and I was considering return- 

 ing, when I felt a rather sharp blow on the top of 

 my head. This was quite new to my sea experience 

 and I righted myself with utmost speed. There, 

 staring with large, frightened eyes into mine, was 

 a full-plumaged young tropicbird. I reached out 

 toward it and it flapped helplessly a few times. It 

 was evidently too water-logged to rise. This ex- 

 plained the daring swoops of the parent birds close 

 over my head ever since I had reached the beach. 

 Twice I swam with all my might toward the bird, 

 but it avoided me easily. Its tail was raised and 

 spread like the rays of a heraldic sun, but it gave 

 forth no sound. Seeing the uselessness of further 

 pursuit I turned and struck out for home. For the 

 fraction of a second I had a sinking of the heart — 

 the tide and what breeze there was, were against me, 

 and the undertow was apparent if I lowered my 

 feet even a little. The panic passed and in spite of 

 my dragging clothes and shoes I knew I could cer- 

 tainly make it. So my mood changed to the appre- 

 ciation of how completely I had made my point: 

 The difficulty of adjustment, or in my case, re- 

 adjustment to a strange element. Certain offshoots 

 of my ancestors — whales, dolphins and seacows — 

 had successfully achieved a return to aquatic life. 



82 



