128 TO DAVY Jones's locker 



I used the searchlight intermittently, and by waiting 

 until I saw some striking illumination I could suddenly 

 turn it on and catch sight of the author before it dashed 

 away. 



At iioo feet we surveyed our sphere carefully. There 

 was no evidence of the hose coming inside, the door was 

 dry as a bone, the oxygen tanks were working well and 

 by occasional use of our palm-leaf fans, the air was kept 

 sweet. The walls of the bathysphere were dripping with 

 moisture, probably sweating from the heat of our bodies 

 condensing on the cold steel. The chemicals were working 

 well, and we had a grand shifting of legs and feet, and 

 settled down for what was ahead of us. 



In the darkness of these levels I had not been able to 

 see the actual forms of the hatchet-fish, yet a glance out 

 of the window now showed distinctly several rat-tailed 

 macrourid-like fish twisting around the bend of the hose. 

 They were distinct, and were wholly new to me. Their 

 profiles were of no macrourid I had ever seen. As I 

 watched, from the sides of at least two, there flashed six 

 or more dull greenish lights, and the effect on my eyes was 

 such that the fish vanished as if dissolved into water, and 

 the searchhght showed not a trace. I have no idea of what 

 they were. 



At 1 200 feet there dashed into the searchlight, without 

 any previous hint of illumination, what I identified as 

 IdiacanthuSy or golden-tailed serpent dragon, a long, slen- 

 der, eel-like form, which twisted and turned about in the 



