74 THE KINGDOM OF THE HELMET 



ponese artist of olden time must often have peered down 

 through the clear waters to have been able to transfer so 

 much of the feeling of under-sea to his screen or kaka- 

 mono. The sparsity and graceful curves of seaweed fronds 

 or plumes recall the exquisite flower arrangement of the 

 Japanese, and if we come across one of the big sponge 

 crabs our sustained simile reaches its climax. On the back 

 of the crab is a perfect mask of the devU dancers — a mask 

 of some god of the Samurai, so realistic that the fishermen 

 have a score of legends of its origin. 



Once, in a fisherman's boat, I drifted off the shelf or 

 terrace some four fathoms beneath me, and suddenly saw 

 far, far down, in the deep blue, breath-taking depths, five 

 of the largest fish I have ever seen tearing at a trap in which 

 I had a single glimpse of a small, scarlet fish. Almost im- 

 mediately the scene passed from view, but my last mem- 

 ory of a Japanese shallow was of this pitifully small being 

 waiting, while five giants bit and tore at his prison. 



Passing south in the Pacific we come to the most lux- 

 uriant reefs and shallows of all oceans. Beginning with 

 Hawaii and extending over all the equatorial south seas, 

 the host of islands and atolls offers indescribable riches for 

 the Helmet Explorer of the future, be he artist, scientist, 

 or just a superhuman being filled with a desire to ex- 

 perience the supreme joys of this world. A thousand paint- 

 ings need never repeat species, form, pattern, or color in 

 their composition. Imagine, if you will, two weirdly col- 

 ored trigger-fish, swimming through a forest of animal 



