y8 THE KINGDOM OF THE HELMET 



a Rackham landscape packed with scarcely visible gnomes 

 and hobgoblins. 



These reefs rise far out near the small twin spires which, 

 at the very edge of the ultimate northern slope of the vol- 

 cano of Bermuda, still stand as the farthest outpost of dry 

 land, their heart of whitest lime veneered with a steel gray 

 armor by the very action of the salty waves which forever 

 try to break them away. 



For an hour we traveled swiftly over the calm water, 

 some of which was troubled by a gentle breeze, the rest 

 flat to slickness. Large aurelias or sun-jellies were abun- 

 dant, with their four circles of eggs clear, brilliant pink. 

 Still larger, lavender cyaneas throbbed along, and every 

 patch of sargassum weed sheltered a group of timorous 

 little fish, and flyingfish tried in vain to find a supporting 

 wind. 



Our launch slowed down when within a half mile of 

 the rocks, and passed slowly over dim, blue wastes of sand, 

 then dark shadows of steep cliffs. Suddenly the flat, table- 

 like reef-top appeared, many-colored with variegated 

 spires, rounded heads, and other forms in low relief. And 

 now please realize that this last sentence I have written 

 is absolutely false and untrue and contains no grain of 

 verity. Which fact is one of the many joys of helmet div- 

 ing. It is one of the few things in this world which never 

 become commonplace, and although we may learn much 

 about the underworld of the sea, and fancy ourselves a 

 familiar of the submarine folk, yet our coarse, terrestrial 



