s difficult to
imagine creatures unable to live without a great weight resting on them,
but as a matter of fact it is the same thing with us in a less degree.
There is a column of air some miles high resting on every one of us, and
if we could imagine ourselves lifted out of it into space, our heads
would throb, and our eyes would burst out, and we should be as helpless
as a deep-sea fish brought up to the surface.

As for light, they have strange methods down there in the black depths.
A great many of the deep-sea inhabitants carry their own lights, for
they are more or less luminous, shining by internal light as glow-worms
and fire-flies do. One extraordinary fish has a row of shiny spots
stretching from his head to his tail, and when he is swimming about he
must look like a liner with a lighted row of ship's ports stretching
along his side. Even lobsters and crabs shine luminously, and what use
it is to them when they are frequently blind it is hard to conjecture;
it must have something to do with catching prey, who are perhaps not
blind and may be attracted by the lights. There is at least one fish who
hangs out what is like a red lantern, only it is the tip of his fin, and
by this means he draws to himself small creatures who swim right into
his capacious mouth; thus his dinner comes to him without his having to
search for it!

I want to go to the bows, for it never seems to me I am in a ship until
I can get to a place where there is nothing to shut one in. These modern
liners are horribly shut in, one might as well be in a drawing-room most
of the time. Here we are at last, and it is good to draw a deep breath,
feeling the huge dome of the sky above and the wide rim of the horizon
around with nothing to cut them off. Look down where the ship cleaves
the sea with her bows cleanly and beautifully like a living thing.
Hullo! there is a dolphin! We are in luck! Can you see him dancing round
us and plunging in under water and coming up again, much as a dog does
on land when he goes out for a walk with his master? There is another,
and another! What they call a shoal. They go fast enough; I expect we
are making about fifteen or sixteen knots, or miles, an hour, which is
good going, and yet these little chaps swim round and round, cutting
across ahead of us, diving under us and coming up again all the time; to
them it is mere child's play, and they really are playing; they are full
of fun, and there is no earthly reason