INTO THE DEPTHS 



They went down into a world seething with plankton 

 — multitudes of small crustaceans and other sea creatures 

 which (as seen through the perspex porthole) drifted up- 

 wards in swarms like a snowstorm in reverse. Strongly 

 illuminated by the light which streamed through the 

 porthole from one of two powerful searchlights, the 

 planktonic multitude rushed here and there, drew nearer 

 or receded, as they were left behind by the bathyscaphe's 

 descent, but their background was one of black and 

 mysterious stillness. Houot worked the camera as their 

 steel cabin went spiralling down. 



By 10.40 a.m. they had reached a depth of 400 metres — 

 roughly 1,200 feet in 32 minutes. Now and again a few 

 siphonophores were glimpsed among the upward- 

 streaming plankton — transparent, beautifully-coloured 

 creatures similar to sea-anemones. One or two looked 

 like huge tadpoles of living light as they went 

 past. 



There was no vibration, nor even any feeling of 

 motion, as Houot and Willm went down. They seemed 

 to be poised in a vast realm of unreality : spectators of 

 scenes beyond the perspex which seemed to be painted 

 on a vast black canvas ceaselessly unrolling upwards to 

 the surface of the sea, which now seemed infinitely 

 remote and lost to them. 



Spots of water were now falling on them as they knelt 

 there. The enormous pressure of the waters outside was 

 compressing the two hemispheres of their spherical cabin 

 — sealing them even more tightly together and forcing 

 out drops of moisture from the circular joint. 



They took it in turn to change their clothes. The 

 temperature of their strange compartment was falling 

 steadily. 



They switched on their second floodlight at intervals — 

 reinforcing the one which sent its vivid beam downward 

 into the swirling darkness. At 3,000 feet down Houot 

 made a note that all forms of life had disappeared — but 



15 



