We too were entering a virgin sea. My feelings were like those that I 

 felt on the 27th May 1931 when, with Kipfer, I entered the stratosphere. 

 But the analogy stops there : here there was neither sun nor moon nor 

 stars, nothing but opaque shades. 



The descent continued. We slowed it down somewhat by throwing 

 out a little ballast. 1375. fathoms. We were diving at a rate of over a 

 yard a second. A glance at the gauges: more than 1680 fathoms. Now 

 it was time to throw out the ballast: opening both tanks, we let it 

 flow out at a rate of over 4 lb. a second. 



A slight rocking: that was the bottom, and the gauges, in perfect 

 accord, indicated a pressure of 325 atmospheres, corresponding to a 

 depth of some 1732 fathoms. Just as off Capri, we were on mud, but the 

 big window was not obstructed this time. Through the porthole set 

 in the door we could see the outflow mouth of the rear ballast tank : 

 nevertheless, we had still waited a bit too late to unballast. But how 

 could we have known exactly at what distance we were from the 

 ground? We should have had to have an echo sounder, which our 

 financial means did not at that time let us have. 



I have been asked why we limited ourselves to a depth of 1732 

 fathoms. In reply, let me recall the phrase uttered by Akleh-ben-Nafy, 

 successor of Mahomet. After having brought his horsemen all along 

 the coast of North Africa, and passed the Pillars of Hercules, perceiving 

 the ocean, which stretched forever in the direction of the setting sun, 

 Akleh-ben-Nafy drove his horse into the water, brandished his scimitar 

 and cried : ' Allah is my witness that the sea alone prevents me from 

 continuing on my road and converting yet other peoples by fire and 

 the sword to the faith of the prophet.' 



I could, in my turn, have pulled out my slide rule and cried: 

 * Neptune is my witness that the ground alone stops me from opening 

 up the deepest oceans to scientific exploration.'^ 



Once more we threw out ballast. For a few minutes the bathyscaphe 

 did not react: through the porthole we watched the iron pellets flow 

 from the rear tank. Were we too heavy, or was the mud really as 

 sticky as it seemed? It was, really, quite natural that a certain time 

 should be required to discharge the ballast that we had to get rid of, 

 but this immobility in the submarine desert was a little unnerving. 



All at once, water swirled before the porthole: this time we were 



1 The Trieste could without danger reach the greatest depths : the whole point 

 is to have a base of operations close enough to the diving site. 



[ 130 ] 



