TO DAVY JONES S LOCKER \1J 



hatchet-fish, ArgyropelecuSy from a half to two Inches in 

 length and gleaming like tinsel (Frontispiece) . The mar- 

 vel of the searchlight was that up to its sharp-cut border 

 the blue-blackness revealed nothing but the lights of the 

 fish. In this species these burned steadily, and each showed 

 a colorful swath directed downward — the little iridescent 

 channels of glowing reflections beneath the source of the 

 actual light. These jerked and jogged along until they 

 reached the sharp-edged border-line of the searchlight's 

 beam, and as they entered it, every light was quenched, 

 at least to my vision, and they showed as spots of shining 

 silver, revealing every detail of fin and eye and utterly 

 absurd outline. When I switched off the electricity or the 

 fish moved out of its path, their pyrotechnics again rushed 

 into visibility. The only effect of the yellow rays was to 

 deflect the path of each fish slightly away from their 

 course. Like active little rays of light entering a new 

 medium, the Argyros passed into the searchlight at right 

 angles to my eye and left it headed slightly away. With 

 them was a mist of jerking pteropods with their delicate 

 shields, frisking in and out among the hatchet-fish like a 

 pack of dogs around the mounts. 



My hand turned the switch and I looked out into a 

 world of inky blueness where constellations formed and 

 reformed and passed without ceasing. At this moment I 

 heard Miss Hollister's voice faintly seeping through 

 Barton's head-phone, and it seemed as if the sun-drenched 

 deck of the Ready must surely be hundreds of miles away. 



