ft me to my studies, and came no more to the saloon. What change had
come over him? For what cause? For my part, I did not wish to bury
with me my curious and novel studies. I had now the power to write the
true book of the sea; and this book, sooner or later, I wished to see
daylight. The land nearest us was the archipelago of the Bahamas.
There rose high submarine cliffs covered with large weeds. It was
about eleven o'clock when Ned Land drew my attention to a formidable
pricking, like the sting of an ant, which was produced by means of
large seaweeds.

"Well," I said, "these are proper caverns for poulps, and I should not
be astonished to see some of these monsters."

"What!" said Conseil; "cuttlefish, real cuttlefish of the cephalopod
class?"

"No," I said, "poulps of huge dimensions."

"I will never believe that such animals exist," said Ned.

"Well," said Conseil, with the most serious air in the world, "I
remember perfectly to have seen a large vessel drawn under the waves by
an octopus's arm."

"You saw that?" said the Canadian.

"Yes, Ned."

"With your own eyes?"

"With my own eyes."

"Where, pray, might that be?"

"At St. Malo," answered Conseil.

"In the port?" said Ned, ironically.

"No; in a church," replied Conseil.

"In a church!" cried the Canadian.

"Yes; friend Ned. In a picture representing the poulp in question."

"Good!" said Ned Land, bursting out laughing.

"He is quite right," I said. "I have heard of this picture; but the
subject represented is taken from a legend, and you know what to think
of legends in the matter of natural history. Besides, when it is a
question of monsters, the imagination is apt to run wild. Not only is
it supposed that these poulps can draw down vessels, but a certain
Olaus Magnus speaks of an octopus a mile long that is more like an
island than an animal. It is also said that the Bishop of Nidros was
building an altar on an immense rock. Mass finished, the rock began to
walk, and returned to the sea. The rock was a poulp. Another Bishop,
Pontoppidan, speaks also of a poulp on which a regiment of cavalry
could manoeuvre. Lastly, the ancient naturalists speak of monsters
whose mouths were like gulfs, and which were too large to pass through
the Straits of Gibraltar."

"But how much is true of these stories?" asked Conseil.

"Nothing, my friends; at least of that which passes the limit of truth
to get to fable or legend. Nevertheles