CHAPTER XVII 



Night Beneath the Sea 



At half past nine on the evening of May 14th I was, I must 

 admit, just a Httle uneasy. A pecuHar crawHng sensation in the 

 pit of my stomach, somewhat hke the emptiness of extreme 

 hunger caused me to feel ill at ease. I have long ago passed the 

 period in hfe when I am disturbed at natural phenomena. 

 Storms still fill me with awe; I respect them and avoid them 

 whenever possible, but I am not afraid of them. Spiders and 

 snakes cause me not the slightest quiver. I have studied them 

 long enough to know that they are— most of them— perfectly 

 harmless; I regard them with interest and with an eye to beauty. 

 Likewise with most other natural creations; I have already 

 written my reactions to sharks and octopi. 



Before the darkness had come I had rowed out beyond the 

 breakers near the settlement and watched the sun plunge be- 

 neath the horizon in great sheets of gold and vermihon. While 

 it was sinking, casting purple shadows over the dark line of 

 the shore and temporarily painting the usually white beach 

 with crimson, the trade wind had slackened and the white caps 

 which all day had been marching toward the west ceased their 

 movement. The waves became rolling, and as darkness came 

 rushing blanketwise out of the east the waters grew still, then 

 slick with only a slight heave to suggest the turmoil of the 

 day. In the brief space between half-light and dark, while the 

 stars appeared one by one, I had unloaded my diving equip- 

 ment, placed the helmet in position over the gunwale, con- 

 nected the air hose and pump, adjusted the Hfe line, and then 

 sat down to wait for the coming of full night. 



349 



