72 TROPIC DAYS 



place in the sun reappeared from nowhere, and the 

 beads and flashes on the floor of old Ocean once more 

 began to glitter. 



Small, slim fish took shelter from the intense light. 

 Some hung motionless in the water; others nibbled 

 daintily the green and lazy slime on the batten at the 

 bilge, their gently waving shadows being barely per- 

 ceptible, for their delicate, semi-transparent bodies 

 absorbed but the merest particle of the brightness of 

 noonday. 



The unnoticeable swing of the tide took the responsive 

 boat out from the beach, and again the serpent swayed 

 sleepily. Down in the mud an organised conflict was 

 taking place between a tiny soft-bodied crab and four 

 molluscs which used whip-like tentacles with unceasing 

 energy, while the crab defended itself with ever-ready 

 claws. Borne down by numbers, it sank into the mud, 

 the energy of the victors creating a tiny spiral of slush. 

 A huge stingray passed on its way, the edges of extended 

 wings rippling never so gently, its shadow half the size 

 of the boat; and presently, with ghostly glide, a dull- 

 skinned shark came into view with motion so steady 

 and apparently effortless that it might have been a 

 spectre. The pectoral fins swayed listlessly. The swirl 

 of the tail was as tender as a caress. Passing the boat 

 a few yards, it turned with a gracious sweep and nestled 

 in its shade, and, though motionless, it was wide awake. 

 The eyes on each end of the projecting extremities 

 of the head blinked up at the boat. It was comfortable, 

 but suspicious. Was its conscience quite clear ? The 

 hammer-head has not the reputation of being an active 

 enemy of man. Why should it be distrustful ? This 

 hammer-head would not sleep in the shadow, so let it 

 be made aware of the serpent. I took hold of the chain 

 cautiously, the shark watching, and with a quick turn 



