TO DAVY JONES S LOCKER I35 



ing up and down a string of hose — here I was privileged 

 to peer out and actually see the creatures which had 

 evolved in the blackness of a blue midnight which, since 

 the ocean was born, had known no following day; here 

 I was privileged to sit and try to crystallize what I ob- 

 served through inadequate eyes and interpret with a mind 

 wholly unequal to the task. To the ever-recurring ques- 

 tion, "How did it feel?", etc., I can only quote the words 

 of Herbert Spencer, I felt like "an infinitesimal atom 

 floating in illimitable space." No wonder my sole written 

 contribution to science and literature at the time was "Am 

 writing at a depth of a quarter of a mile. A luminous fish 

 is outside the window." 



The return trip was made in forty-three minutes, an 

 average of one foot every two seconds. Twice during the 

 ascent I was aware of one or more indefinite, large bodies 

 moving about at a distance. On the way down I had ac- 

 credited them to an over-excited imagination, but after 

 having the experience repeated on several deep dives I am 

 sure that I did see shadowy shapes of large and very real 

 living creatures. What they were I can only guess, and live 

 in hopes of seeing them closer on some future descent. 



We had ascended to 1000 feet when Miss Hollister 

 sent down word that a gull was flying about the Ready, 

 and a moment later said that it was a young herring gull. 

 I relayed the information that I had made a note of it — 

 qualifying thus as the first ornithologist who had ever 

 made a submarine bird note, and then contradicted it by 



