So what do you think they do?"

"Swim up to where it's lighter," said Rodd. "Not they, sir. They grows
a little bait as might be a little bit of meat at the end of their
barbel-like fishing-lines, and wave it about in the water for the fish
they want to catch to see."

"You said it was all black darkness deep down there," cried Rodd.

"So it is, my lad, and so that the fish may see it those little baits of
theirs all glow with light, and shine out in the dark black water. Now,
doctor, what do you think of that for a bit of nature?"

"Extraordinary!" cried the doctor. "But who told you that?"

"Nobody, sir. I have seen them with my own eyes."

"Yes, but what about the men-of-war with their ports lit up?"

"Of course I didn't mean men-of-war, sir. I thought I made you
understand I meant fish. Fish about two foot long, with a row of lights
down each side like lamps to see their way in the darkness. There,
gentlemen, that's no story to tell to the marines, but a fact that I
have seen with my own eyes; and if there's things like that deep down in
the seas, I don't see anything wonderful in there being what some people
calls sea-sarpints that might be as big as a great sparmacetti whale;
and if you put some of them beside a cable a hundred foot long there
isn't much rope to spare. I knew of a ninety-footer once, though they
don't often get so long as that."

CHAPTER TWENTY.

A WARM BLUSH.

Uncle Paul sat very quietly thinking for some time, while the other
occupants of the cabin were waiting for him to deliver himself of what
seemed to be gathering in his brain. "You see, Captain Chubb," he said
at last, "human nature has always been prone to exaggerate. If a boy
like my nephew here hooks a fish and loses it, he goes home and tells
everybody that it was about five times as big as it really was."

"Oh, uncle!" cried Rodd indignantly. "I am sure I never did!"

"Well, well, perhaps not," said Uncle Paul shortly. "Don't say `perhaps
not,' uncle. That isn't fair. You know I always try to tell the
truth."

"Well, well; yes, yes, yes, yes," said Uncle Paul testily. "I am not
accusing you, Rodney. I am only alluding to what people who tell
stories do."

"Why, of course, uncle, they say what isn't true if they tell stories."

"Will you oblige me, Rodney, by letting me continue what I was about to
say?"

"I beg pardon, uncle."

"Yes, Captain Chubb," continued Uncle Paul, "there is that natura