Boy With the U. S. Fisheries

  CHAPTER VII

  HARPOONING A GIANT SEA VAMPIRE

  Colin wakened early the following morning and got up promptly, planningto show his alertness, but when he came downstairs and sauntered outbetween the oleander bushes toward the water he heard a hail and foundthat his chief was already up and was busy unpacking some large boxeswhich had been delivered the night before. The boy hurried to help him.

  "What are these, Mr. Collier?" he asked, as some large square boxes witha window in the bottom came into view.

  "These are water glasses," the scientist answered, "not the kind that isused by tourists, but some I have had made specially--lenses withreflecting mirrors; with them the bottom of the sea ought to show upclearly. As you notice, they are long enough to be usable from the deckof a fair-sized sailing boat. It's a shame only to half-see things asbeautiful as the sea-gardens. When a thing's worth while, it is so muchworth while."

  "I thought you would probably have to dive," Colin said, "in order tosee the submarine gardens thoroughly."

  The curator shook his head.

  "You'll find," he said, "that we can see almost as well with these asthough you and I were a couple of angel fish, swimming in and out of thegrottoes of the coral. The water--as you noticed when we were cominginto the harbor--is as clear as crystal. There's nothing in coral sandto make it cloudy or muddy."

  "Are we going out this morning?" the boy queried eagerly, as he helpedin the unpacking of the various instruments that the museum expert hadbrought.

  "The boat is to be here at half-past eight," was the reply, "and we'regoing to find the most beautiful spot that there is in the submarineGarden of Eden. Our darky boatman, 'Early Bird,' they call him, says heknows a place quite far out on the reef where there are wonderful grovesand parterres unspoiled by tourists because they lie so distant that itis not worth while for the excursion boats to make the trip."

  "I don't quite see," said Colin, "how the visit of tourists floatingover a stretch of sea could harm the seaweeds and the coral growing onthe bottom."

  "But it does, because a number of the glass-bottomed boats carry a diverwho goes down and breaks off specimens of coral at the tourists'request, selling them for a good sum. But the gardens to which we aregoing, I understand, are entirely out of the beaten track and are verymuch finer besides. Here is 'Early Bird' now."

  As he spoke, a white sailboat with a large spread of sail came skimminginto the little bay, heading for the private wharf of the hotel at arapid clip. Colin held his breath as the craft came rushing in, for theinlet was not much wider than twice the length of the boat and it seemedcertain that the vessel would crash full upon the rocks not twenty feetbeyond the wharf. But at the very last second the tiller was put over,the sail jibed, and as gently as though she had crept up in a calm, the_Early Bird_ glided up beside the wharf, her bowsprit narrowly missingthe bushes on the bank as she turned.

  "You sure can handle a boat!" cried Colin admiringly.

  The owner of the vessel, a young colored man, of good address and with aclever face, showed his white teeth in a gratified smile as he replied:

  "Yas, sah, Ah've sailed a boat roun' the harbor quite a good deal."

  "It looked that time as though you were going to be smashed up, sure."

  "Ah nevah even scraped the paint of a boat in ten yeahs o' sailin',sah," the colored boatman answered, "an' thar's lots o' shoals, too."

  "It looks as if she were resting on the bottom now!" the boy said.

  "No, sah," was the confident reply, "the tide's full in an' Ah knowsthis whahf right well. Thar's two feet of wateh under her, right now."

  Early Bird--for both boatman and boat answered to the same name--deftlytook aboard the glasses and other special material that had beenprepared, not forgetting a large lunch basket that had been sent downfrom the hotel, and then he pushed off into the clear and shining water.The early morning breeze laid the little craft over on her side but shehad a good pair of heels and in a few minutes the party was well on itsway across Grassy Bay.

  "Where are we going?" asked Colin.

  Early Bird pointed beyond a group of small islands to where there seemedto be a depression in the land.

  "Thar's a channel, sah," he said, "right in between those two islands.Thar's a swing bridge across, but the keepeh is always on the lookoutand we can go right through."

  A half hour's sail brought them to the gap between the islands. Thoughthe bridge was shut Early Bird steered confidently straight for thecenter, and it swung just in time, the boat shooting by withundiminished speed and rounding a point to the open water beyond. Beforethem stretched an unbroken vista of ocean.

  "The next land south of you, Colin," remarked the curator, "isAntarctica."

  Colin thought for a moment, then said in a surprised voice:

  "Why, yes. Bermuda is an isolated point, isn't it? I hadn't thought ofthat before. Nearly all islands are in chains, but this little bit of aplace is set off all by itself. I wonder why that is?"

  "Bermuda is the top of a submarine mountain," was the reply, "perhapspart of the lost Atlantis--who knows? This stupendous peak rises almostfifteen thousand feet sheer from the ocean bed and its rugged topforms the basis of the islands. Think what a magnificent sight it wouldbe if we could see its whole height rising from the darkness of theocean deep."

  THE _EARLY BIRD_ PASSING THE BERMUDA AQUARIUM, AGAR'SISLAND.

  _Photograph by C. R-W._]

  "But I thought Bermuda was a coral island!"

  "The coral polyp has got to grow on something, hasn't it?" the scientistreminded him. "Don't forget that the little creatures can't live in deepwater. And, you see, Bermuda has gradually been sinking, the coralbuilders keeping pace with the subsidence, so that although the islandis only two miles across at the widest point the reefs are ten mileswide."

  "It really is coral, then?"

  "As much as any island is. The base of any coral island is limestone,being made of the skeletons of coral polypi which have been broken andcrushed by wind and weather and beaten into stone. Just as chalk is madeof thousands of tiny shells, so coral limestone is made of myriads ofcoral skeletons."

  "Why, that's like sandstone," cried Colin, in a disappointed tone. "Ihad an idea that coral was a sort of insect that lived in a shell andthat colonies of these grew up from the bottom of the water like treesand when they died--millions of them--they left the shells and thesestone forests grew up and up until they reached the top of the water andthen soil was formed and that was how coral islands began."

  "I'm not surprised at your thinking that," his chief replied, "lots ofpeople do. And though that theory is all wrong, still if it has givenfolks an idea of the beauty and wonder of the world, there's no greatharm done. Plenty of people still talk about the coral 'insect.' Itnever occurs to them to call an anemone an 'insect,' but they don't knowthat the coral polyp is more like an anemone than anything else."

  "But an anemone is a soft flabby thing that waves a lot of jelly-likefingers about in the water."

  "So does coral," was the reply, "and it eats and lives just in the sameway, only that the coral polyp has a stony skeleton and most of the seaanemones have not. But every different one has some sort of a story totell and I believe they get joy out of life just as we do. Else whyshould some of these forms be so beautiful? You note them closely whenwe pass over some of the reefs, and I should judge we are coming to themnow."

  Certainly if the coloration was any clue, the boat was coming to thegreat sea-gardens. Above the white bottom the water shone a vividemeraldine green, changing to sharply marked browns over the shoals,while beyond the inner reefs it varied from all shades of sapphire blueto radiant aquamarine. Nowhere was the water of the same color for ahundred yards together, while every ruffling of the surface, every slantof sunlight gave it a new hue. Colin was entranced and wished to seemore closely, but the boat was going too swiftly to let down a waterglass and he was forced to wait a few minutes.

  "Ah b'lieve, sah," said
Early Bird presently, hauling in the sheet, "wemight let the sail down heah. We'll drift just about fast enough fo' youto watch the bottom."

  Mr. Collier handed one of the water glasses to the boatman. It wasformed like a deep square box with a glass window for a bottom, and aspecially prepared crystal had been used.

  "That's an improvement on the old kind, Early Bird," he said; "what doyou think of it?"

  The Bermudian darky looked through the glass critically.

  "Yes, sah," he said, "thar's no compah'son 'tween the two. The bottomlooks bettah through that glass than it does when yo' down thehyo'self. Ah used to do a little diving at one time, but the reefs nevahshowed up that cleah. It would be a big thing fo' the boats that taketourists out if they could have glasses like that one there."

  "It would be, perhaps," the scientist said, laughing, "but they couldalmost build a boat for what one of these would cost."

  "Isn't that the most gorgeous thing you ever saw!" cried Colin, as heset his eye to the glass, which Early Bird handed him. "There's nogarden on land with such colors as that."

  "There are no flowers in the garden you're looking at, remember," hisfriend reminded him.

  "Don't need them," said the boy. "Look at that tall purple plant wavingto and fro. Isn't that a sea-fan?"

  "Yes," his companion answered, "that's a sea-fan, but it isn't a plant.It's a kind of coral."

  "Is it? I always thought it was a seaweed."

  "You'll be calling a sponge a plant next. See those red lumps, near thebottom of that rock? Those are sponges."

  "Now there's some real coral!" the boy cried.

  "All coral is real coral. What you are looking at is probably a form ofthe stag's horn variety," the curator said, "and that does look morelike the coral of commerce. But everything you are looking at, nearly,is coral. These great dome-like stones, do you see them?"

  "The ones that look like the pictures of a brain?"

  "Yes, those are called brain-stone or brain-coral. And those others,just the same shape only with little holes, instead of grooves, that'sstar coral."

  "Then there seem to be some that look like a bouquet of flowers allstuck together."

  "That's rose coral," was the reply, "and those are the three forms yousee more generally."

  "But where's the pink and red coral? If it's as easy to get at coral asthis, I don't see why people don't come here and make a fortune."

  "Fortunes aren't quite as easy to pick up as that. This coral has nomarket value; the variety that is used for jewelry comes mainly fromJapan and from the Mediterranean, and the governments of the variouscountries keep it under constant watch."

  "That's why. I see now. Oh!" exclaimed the boy as some fish swam underthe glass suddenly. "Just look at those angel-fish. They seem twice asbrilliant as the ones I saw in Devil's Hole."

  "Of course," the curator said, "you would expect them to look dull indull surroundings. That is color protection. Here, everything is gailycolored and striped and streaked and dotted, so the fish are, too. Thathelps them to hide and be unnoticed. A plain-colored open sea fish couldbe easily seen."

  "Look, sah," said Early Bird, turning to the boy, "Ah've got a littlesailoh's choice, Ah caught this morning; Ah'll throw him in and yo' cannotice how plain yo' can see him."

  He tossed the fish overboard. The silver scales shone and gleamedbrilliantly in the transparent water but Colin had barely time to noticewhat a conspicuous object it was when in a swirl of water a score ofsmall fish of all sorts surrounded the morsel. But the groupers followedhotfoot and the little fish fled. Then came retribution, for, from acrevice in a near-by rock, out shot the eel-like form of a green morayand disposed of one of the groupers in short order.

  "Did I tell you about the moray?" Colin asked, and on receiving a replyin the negative, he recounted the story he had heard in Devil's Hole.The boy rather feared that Early Bird might make light of it even if themuseum curator did not, but the darky remarked that he thought it was agood thing to let morays alone and that he had heard the story fromother sources before. In the meantime the leader of the expedition hadfound a section of the reef which appealed to him and at his requestEarly Bird put out a small kedge anchor, holding the boat fast. The windhad dropped a good deal as the morning wore on and now the littlesailing boat rocked gently over the gorgeous gardens of the sea.

  "You told me," the museum official said, "that you were fond of drawing.Here's a sketch block and some pastel crayons; see what you can do withthem."

  Colin lifted his eyebrows in surprise, but he took the sketch block andpad, hooking his water glass to the side of the boat as directed. Hiscompanion took a large water glass of a different character. It wasright-angled with a lens at the end. In the joint of the angle was areflector which threw the image upon a mirror immediately under theeye-piece.

  "What's that for?" the boy asked.

  "So that we can look at the reefs at their own level," was the reply."No matter how much you allow for refraction and foreshortening, you'llfind it almost impossible to get correct values by studying a reef fromthe top only. You know how queer a place looks in a picture that hasbeen taken from an aeroplane?"

  "Yes," the boy answered.

  "That's what we've got to avoid here. We are looking down on the reefsjust as an aviator looks down on a city. This glass, however, will giveme the proper perspective. You see I have made it something like atelescope so that I can add segment after segment and watch conditionseven in fairly deep water. Now I'll show you how I'm going to manageit."

  He took the long L glass with which he was working and fastened it bylittle hooks to the direct overhead glass which Colin was using, and ashe did so the boy noticed that the two glasses were so arranged thatthey focussed at the same point of the reef, only that one viewed itfrom above, the other from the side. A little device worked by athumbscrew varied the angle in proportion to the depth.

  "Now," he was instructed, "draw in and color--as well as you knowhow--everything you see in the field of your glass. You've got all dayto do it in, so there's no need for hurry. Remember, I don't want thecolor you think the sea-fans and other forms would be out of the water,but the color that they seem to you to be when looked at through thewater."

  "But I don't draw so awfully well, Mr. Collier," said Colin.

  "You don't need to," was the reply, "it's the color that I want. Thereisn't a tint known that you can't find in those pastels and I want it asexact as you can get it. I'm going to do the same thing, you see, onlyfrom the side. The light will cause a good deal of difference, and Iwant to determine just how the shadows fall."

  The boy had never had such crayons to work with and he was naturally agood colorist. He became so absorbed that he was quite unaware of thepassage of time and it was with something of a surprise that he heardthe announcement of lunch. This was due to Early Bird, who, seeing thatit was after noon, had unpacked the hamper and set out a good meal. Bothartists dined heartily and Early Bird was not forgotten when the artistsreturned to their drawings. But although Colin worked as hard as hecould, it was four o'clock before he felt that he had finished. Themuseum expert was also still at work when the sun began to fail to givea sufficiently direct light to pierce the water. Colin was eager to seehis companion's sketch, but this was denied him.

  "No," he was told. "We're coming here to-morrow, and I want you to dowhat I was doing to-day, while I do the overhead view."

  "What's that for, Mr. Collier?" queried Colin, again.

  "No two people see color values just alike," was the reply, "and whileof course I don't expect you to make a perfect picture, still if yourcoloring and mine agree, we are nearly sure to have exactly the rightshade."

  "But if they don't?"

  "Then we have two color conceptions, and it is easy for a third personto say which looks the most real to him. Early Bird, for example, couldtell which looked the best to him, although, of course, he could notdescribe the color."

  "Then we're coming back here to-morro
w?"

  "If the wind is suitable, yes."

  Colin was simply aching with eagerness to see the other drawing but hadto be content with the promise that he could see it as soon as he haddone the duplicate, and not before, as he might be prejudiced thereby.Before going home that day they dropped as a marker a heavy lead diskabout six inches across, painted white, to which was attached a buoy, sothat they could find the identical place again; and the followingmorning, when they came out, the buoy was picked up without difficultyand the boat moored as before.

  The second day on the reefs was an exact counterpart of the first,except that Colin found it much more difficult to work through the Lglass. To look down at a picture which was reflected sidewise made thedrawing of it quite tricky until he caught the knack. Also, shadowsunder the water did not behave the same way as above. But, as before,the entire day was given to it, and though the boy had a headache whenevening came, he had turned out a very respectable piece of work. Thefun came in comparing them.

  "You're somewhat of an impressionist," the curator said, as he examinedColin's two pictures carefully, "and you've succeeded in making yoursketches look more submarine than I have. But I think your perspectiveis all out."

  "I was afraid that it was," the boy replied, "though I tried hard to getit."

  "What do you think of them, Early Bird?" the museum expert asked, "Iwon't tell you which is which."

  The boatman, who had a full share of the intelligence and alertnesscharacteristic of the Bermuda colored population, so excellentlygoverned under British rule, examined the four pictures carefully andthen said:

  "Wa'al, sah, Ah think Ah like these two the best."

  He handed back Mr. Collier's drawing of the reef from the side and theboy's sketch of the reef taken from above.

  "I believe you're right, Early Bird," the scientist said, laughing, "thelad beat me out on that one." Then, as he put the drawings away in theportfolio he added, "And now we'll see how near we both came to theright thing."

  "How?" queried the boy.

  "We'll search a while for perfect specimens. A diver is coming alongwith us to-morrow and we're going to scour the reefs for fine specimensof coral, sea-anemones, sea-whips, black rods, purple fans, and all therest of them. Those that we can preserve we will, but the sea-anemoneswe'll have to work on in the Aquarium on Agar's Island, where they havesome magnificent specimens."

  THE GORGEOUS SUBMARINE WORLD.

  Golden sea-anemones, purple long-spined sea-urchins, orange-coloredsponges, and corals upon the white sea-sand.

  _Courtesy of the American Museum of Natural History, N. Y._]

  THE GARDENS OF THE SEA.

  Where purple sea-fans wave under the crystal water. Note the angel-fishand various forms of coral.

  _Courtesy of the American Museum of Natural History, N. Y._]

  "In glass, you mean?" queried Colin. "I should like to see how that'sdone."

  "Come to my laboratory in New York some time and I'll show you," hiscompanion answered, "but I can't do that here. I have a speciallyprepared black paper here and I'll copy some of the anemone forms sothat I can plan them in glass from my drawings. I'll go with youto-morrow, but after that you'll have to go out alone."

  Accordingly, Colin and the diver went out with Early Bird every day fora week, Colin spending the entire day peering through the water glassfor perfect specimens, which, when sighted, the diver would descend toget. He secured an especially fine example of a long-spined black andwhite striped sea-urchin, with spines nearly seven inches in length, anumber of pale-blue starfish (an unusual color in that genus), and onesuperb sea-fan of a glowing purple color nearly five feet across. Ofsea-anemones he found a large variety, and those he brought to theaquarium, where Mr. Collier was working steadily; several kinds of"sea-puddings," closely allied to the famous beche-de-mer--the tabledelicacy of China--also were within his discoveries. The boy's eyesightwas keen, and the collecting fever found him an easy victim, but it wasback-breaking work to stoop over the water glass all day.

  After about a week of this, however, a surprise awaited him. He noticed,as they sailed into the bay, a very handsome steam yacht lying atanchor, a sea-going craft flying the New York Yacht Club's burgee. Onhis return to the hotel Colin found his chief waiting for him, a littleimpatiently.

  "We're going to dinner on the _Golden Falcon_," he said, as soon as hesaw the boy, "she belongs to a friend of mine. He is going down toFlorida and has offered to take us along. If I can arrange it, that willsave us at least a week's time."

  "Bully, fine!" Colin exclaimed. "Is that the yacht down there?"

  "Yes."

  "She's a beauty. All right, Mr. Collier, I'll get ready just as fast asI can. And you ought to see a feather star I got to-day. It wasn't soawfully deep down either."

  "I'll see it later," was the reply, "hurry and get ready now; I don'twant to be late going over there. Their launch is to come at half-pastsix and it is twenty after now, so that you need to move as fast as youknow how."

  "Right, sir," answered Colin, and off he sped.

  The yacht was the finest of its kind that the boy had ever boarded andhe spent a very pleasant evening, the more so as the owner of the vesselhad his family aboard, including his son Paul, a lad almost the same ageas Colin. Mr. Murren was a wealthy capitalist, who had financed a chainof drug-stores throughout the country and still kept a large amount ofstock in them. This corporation used many thousands of sponges annually,needing moreover a high-grade article which was found difficult toprocure. It had been thought wise to investigate the question of buyinga sponge farm, and he had been asked to look into the matter.Accordingly, he was taking a run down the coast, but had come first tosee the American Vice Consul at Bermuda--to whom he was related bymarriage.

  "I heard a good deal about that sponge-farming business," said Colin,when the other boy told him this. "Dr. Crafts told me how it wasworked."

  "All the more reason for you to join us," his new friend responded. "Ihope you're coming."

  "I hope so, too," Colin answered, "and it's likely enough that we will,since you say your father has been kind enough to ask us. I think Mr.Collier has nearly finished what he wanted to do in Bermuda, and if youare going straight to Florida, it would save us a lot of time, as wellas being a jolly trip in itself."

  "Going to do more coral-hunting?" the other boy queried, for Colin hadtold him about his Bermuda work.

  "A little of that, I think; but I believe Mr. Collier intends also tomake an exhibit showing the way sponges grow. So you see he is as muchinterested as your father in reviewing the sponge question."

  At this juncture Colin heard his name called.

  "Yes, Mr. Collier," he answered.

  "Do you think you have been over most of the reef?"

  "Yes, sir, I think so," the boy answered; "Early Bird said yesterdaythat we had covered the sea-garden grounds fairly thoroughly. But, ofcourse, there are miles of reef that we haven't seen."

  "I think, Mr. Murren," the scientist said, turning to his host, "that Ican finish up all my business here by to-morrow night and be ready for astart the following morning. If that's agreeable to you, we shall bevery glad to accept your invitation."

  "That's agreed, then," said the capitalist, "and now we'll have somemusic."

  The trip to Florida on the _Golden Falcon_ was one of the pleasantestColin had ever known. The little craft fairly flew through the water. Heliked his host and hostess immensely, both of whom were accomplishedmusicians, and he struck up quite a friendship with Paul. Thecapitalist's son, though but a month or two younger than Colin, wasquite inclined to give the latter a little hero-worship. And it wassignificant of Colin's make-up that he was equally ready to take it.Little of note occurred on the voyage save that the yacht almost ranover a sunfish in the water, which turned a sluggish somersault anddisappeared. What was of more interest to Colin and indeed to Paul alsowas the opportunity to use a very powerful microscope belonging to themuseum curator and to find out a
bout the almost invisible life of theocean.

  "You must remember," the scientist told them, "that these tiny forms,which look like the most wonderful figures in a fairyland of geometry,exist in such billions that as they die, their light shells fall throughthe sea like a perpetual rain. Some of them, too, are so very light thatit takes them a month to sink to the bottom."

  "But what can such tiny bits of things live on, Mr. Collier?" askedPaul; "other animals smaller still?"

  "No, my boy," was the reply, "on plants called diatoms. There are overfour thousand species of these plants known, which are so small that themicroscopic animals readily engulf them. Where it is too cold forsurface animal life, as in the Antarctic Ocean, these dead diatoms formthe mud on the bottom of the ocean, and in the extremely deep parts, thesea-bed is red clay, but most of it is an 'ooze'--'Globigerina,' as itis called--made up of the shells of those very creatures you have nowbeen seeing on that microscope slide. You drop in and see me at NewYork, boys," he added kindly, "and I'll show you some models I have madeof them."

  On arrival at Key West one of the first things that impressed itselfupon Colin was the sponge wharf, where tens of thousands of sponges ofevery sort were drying in the hot September sun. The conversation hadrun upon sponges very frequently during the voyage, and Mr. Collier, whoknew the subject thoroughly from a theoretical point of view, had beenof great help to his host. But the economic and commercial side of thequestion was another matter. From this aspect Colin found that theremembrance of his conversation with Dr. Crafts in Washington stood himin good stead.

  "As I understand it, Mr. Murren," he said, as they stood on the wharftogether, waiting for an approaching boat, "the government looks on thebusiness of growing sponges much as it does on the growing of wheat orany other form of farming, only it is called aquiculture instead ofagriculture. Sponge planting isn't so very different from potatoplanting."

  "It looks entirely different to me," the boy's host replied, as he wentdown the wharf steps. "I'm sorry Mr. Collier was called away thisafternoon, but I may as well give a preliminary look over thissponge-farming business and you boys might as well come along. There'sa man here who wants me to buy his sponge farm. Since Mr. Collier ishere I'm not going to decide anything without his advice. He doesn'twant you this afternoon, does he?"

  Colin hesitated a moment.

  "Not as far as I know, Mr. Murren," he answered.

  "I wish you would come, then," urged the capitalist. "You've picked upsome ideas in Washington which may be of help."

  "I'll be glad to come, if you feel I'm any use to you," the boy replied,flattered at this evidence that he could be of service, "I was onlyafraid that I'd be in the way."

  Colin followed Paul and his father into the boat, where was waiting anegro as black as the proverbial black hat, a local fisherman who hadtaken up sponge growing, and who, while shrewd enough for a businessdeal, knew little about sponges.

  "You were saying that the Bureau of Fisheries is going to take upsponge-farming?" the prospective buyer asked. "Do you know what successthe government has had so far?"

  "Enough to show that it can be done and that's about all," the boyreplied. "Before long, I think, the Bureau will have a station down onthe Keys here and that will be one of the first questions they willprobably take up. As I heard it put, the Bureau aims to farm every acreof water as thoroughly as every acre of land."

  "That," said the capitalist, "is an ideal that gives all sorts ofchances for development."

  Presently the boatman stopped and, resting on his oars, said:

  "Lots o' sponges hyeh, boss."

  The would-be buyer took the water glass and looked through it at thebottom, but he was unaccustomed to the appearance of growing sponges andalso to the use of a water glass, so that he gained little from it.

  "I don't see any," he said.

  "Aren't there any round liver-colored lumps, Mr. Murren?" the boy asked.

  "Yes, there are lots of those," was the reply.

  "Those are sponges."

  "They don't look like it."

  "They are, sir, though. A skeleton doesn't ever look just like a man.The sponge, as you use it in a bath, is just an animal's skeleton, or itmay be of several animals that have grown together."

  "Yo' suah o' that, boss?" asked the boatman. "I allus hear' dat a spongewas a plant--not any animal."

  "It's an animal," Colin said shortly.

  "But I thought," interjected Paul, "that the difference between a plantand an animal was that an animal can move around and a plant can't."

  "Well, Paul," the boy answered, "the young of sponges are larvae whichswim in the water by threshing with short hairs until they findsomething suitable to stick on. Lots of animals which become fixturesare free-swimming when young, oysters, for instance."

  "Then a sponge doesn't seed itself, like a plant?"

  "No, Mr. Murren," said Colin; "so far as I understand, the larvae, thoughof a very simple type, have a certain amount of choice. A seed has gotto grow where it falls, or not at all, but a sponge larva, if it doesn'tfind a suitable place on the first thing it touches, can swim aboutblindly until it finds one that will do."

  "Now about these sponges, Colin," his host said, impressed by the boy'sclear though crude way of explaining himself, "look through the glassand tell me what you think about the bed."

  "There are quite a lot of sponges there," the boy answered after a fewminutes' examination, "some of good size, too, but a number of them aredead. See, the sand has drifted half over them. There's too much sandand too little rock."

  "Should they have a rock bottom?" the manufacturer queried.

  "Rock am de bes', suah," the owner of the ground put in, "but a li'l bito' san' don' do no hahm. It shows dat de wateh am runnin'."

  "Yes," said the boy, "the boatman is right there, Mr. Murren, spongesmust be in a current after they have once taken hold. They can't swimaround to get their food, so, like all the fixed forms of life, theirfood must come to them. If there is no current there is not enough foodcarried past for them to live on. If the current is too strong thesponge has to make an extra tough skeleton to brace itself against therush of water and then it becomes too coarse for commercial use. Some ofthe polyps live on tiny animals with a lot of flint in their shells andthe skeleton gets like glass. They call them glass sponges. Conditionshave got to be just right for their development, they're a mostparticular sort of creature."

  "But how do they feed?"

  "A sponge is a jelly-like colony of cells with a fibrous skeleton," theboy explained; "the outside of him is toward the water and is full ofsmall pores which branch all through his flesh and open at last into abig pore leading to the outside. All these pores are lined with tinyhairs that make a current of water go through the jelly-like flesh,which absorbs any microscopic life there may be. The water is taken inthrough the little pores and sent out through the big ones. Some spongeforms are of one animal, most are of colonies. But they are all on thesame pattern, pumping water in and out again."

  "Then is a growing sponge all full of jelly?" asked Paul.

  "All that I have seen are," Colin replied.

  "How do they get it out?"

  "I c'n tell you 'bout that," interjected Pete. "A sponge is all slimyan' nasty. Yo' put him in de sun an' he dies quick an' all de slime runsout. Den yo' buries him in san' 'til his insides all decay. Den you putshim in a pon' an' takes him out, an' beats him wif a stick, lots o'times oveh, maybe, 'til all de jelly an' all de san' an' all de muck amout ob him. Den yo' wash him in fresh wateh 'til he's clean an' letshim dry an' he's done."

  "But if sponges will reproduce themselves," the capitalist said,returning to his former point, "what is the need of planting them?"

  "You don't have to work that way on their own beds, sir," the boyanswered, "planting is done to get more out of the industry, using thesea bottom in shallow waters which now is lying unused."

  "And you say only rocky land will do?"

  "Any bottom that
's hard enough to keep the sponge from being covered up,Mr. Murren. Soft sand will wash, mud will ooze up, and rank marine grassor seaweed will smother the young cells. But any hard bottom in warmsalt water with a current is good for sponges."

  "I see," was the rejoinder. "As you say, the situation is not unlikefarming. You can either farm cultivated sponge land or plantuncultivated land."

  "You can get land suitable for sponges for almost nothing, I suppose,"Colin said, "and then if you had a small sponge ground you could plant alarger area from it."

  "What do you think of this ground?"

  The boy hesitated.

  "I hardly think I know enough about it to say, Mr. Murren," he said;"you ought to get an expert."

  "I'll get an expert before I pay cash," was the prompt answer, "but Iwant to know what you think."

  "Well, then, sir," Colin answered, "I think it's good ground, but notgood enough."

  "Ah got a betteh one than this hyeh, boss," put in the boatman, "it'smah brotheh's, but he might be willin' to sell. Costs mo' than mine,though."

  "Take us there," ordered the capitalist.

  The boatman took to his oars with a will, but it was a long pull, almostan hour elapsing before he stopped, wiped his forehead on his arms, andsaid, as before:

  "Lots o' sponges hyeh, boss."

  At a nod from the prospective buyer, Colin took the water glass andwatched the bottom carefully as the boatman rowed slowly over it. Howthe boy wished for the lenses in the glasses belonging to Mr. Collierwhich he had used in Bermuda! But still, though the afternoon wasdrawing on and the sun did not strike the water at the right angle,Colin could see that it was unusually fine sponge ground.

  YOUNG SPONGE ATTACHED TO CEMENT DISK, READY FOR PLANTING.(Actual size.)

  _Courtesy of the U. S. Bureau of Fisheries._]

  SHEEPSWOOL SPONGE GROWN FROM SMALL PIECE AS ABOVE, 48MONTHS OLD, SIX INCHES ACROSS.

  _Courtesy of the U. S. Bureau of Fisheries._]

  "Yes," he said, "that's more like."

  Mr. Murren looked about him.

  "How in the world do you know, Pete," he said to the boatman, "that thisis your ground or anybody else's? I don't see any stakes or evidences ofownership."

  "If Ah starts to haul up sponges on somebody else's groun' he'll come upand make me get off, suah," replied the boatman.

  "But suppose he doesn't see you."

  The boatman grinned.

  "Dat certainly am his own lookout, boss," he said.

  "What a cut-throat game," ejaculated the would-be buyer. "If a manbought a place he'd have to watch it all the time, then?"

  "Suah, sah."

  "Thank you," was the reply, "I'll take some place in shallow water whereI can build a house and hire some fellow to watch it and work it."

  "Ain' no trouble hyeh," the boatman said, shrugging his shoulders,"ev'body wo'k his own patch."

  "But how do you get the sponges?" was the query. "You have to dive forthem, don't you?"

  The boatman shook his head.

  "Sometimes, if de wateh's mo' than fifty feet deep. Not of'en. See, Ahshow you."

  He reached under the forward thwart and pulled out a light three-prongedhook and fitted it to a jointed pole, screwing the two sections togetherso that it made one long pole of about twenty-four feet in length. Hetook the water glass and rowed the boat until it was directly over asponge.

  "Yo' all keep de boat dere a li'l while," he said to Colin, and the ladtook the oars.

  Then very deftly the boatman pushed the long unwieldy pole into thewater and nicked a sponge from the bed, bringing it up intact. Onreaching the surface it was seen to be slimy and with a milky fluiddripping from the bottom.

  "That's a ripe sponge, you see, Mr. Murren," the boy said, pointing tothe milky fluid; "the slimy stuff that's dropping is full of germs ofyoung sponges all ready to grow and swim and fix to something and thenbecome proper sponges."

  "That may be a sponge," said the prospective buyer, "but it looks morelike a piece of liver."

  "Fine sponge, sah,--good yellow sponge," the boatman said, and Colindid not know enough either to affirm or deny.

  "Now, Ah show yo' sheepswool sponge, quite diff'nt," the boatman said,and taking up his water glass he leaned over the edge.

  Just as he did so, both Colin and his companion gave a cry.

  "Sharks!"

  The boatman looked around contemptuously.

  "Nu'sing shahks," he said, "sleep all de time." He splashed his hand inthe water and the sharks fled in all directions.

  "You wouldn't feel that way if you had been in the water," hazarded thecapitalist.

  "Ah done ride on 'em," was the reply. "Lots o' boys 'round dese hyehreefs think it fun to steal up ove' a lot o' nu'sing shahks, an' dendive down an' take a ride. Dey wouldn't bite nothin' biggeh than asahdine."

  "But you have got dangerous sharks here?"

  "Yes, sah, you bet," the boatman answered; "dey was one ol' white shahkwas a holy terror; he use' to show up hyeh reg'lah once a monf. Folks dosay he eat up fo' men at diff'rent times."

  "I thought Mr. Collier told us that those shark stories wereexaggerated," said Paul, turning to Colin. "I didn't think so, now yousee, they weren't."

  "Oh, I guess the white shark is the real thing, all right," Colinanswered. "Some fishermen found a fair-sized young sea lion almost wholein a shark's stomach about three years ago."

  "That must have been the fish that swallowed Jonah," suggested Paul.

  "He could have done it all right," the other boy agreed, "and he isabout the only fish that could."

  "There might be some in the bottom of the sea!"

  "I don't think so, Paul. Mr. Collier told me on the steamer that in thevery deepest parts of the ocean there were no fish, only worms andsea-cucumbers and things like that."

  "If you'll listen a minute, sah," said the boatman, "yo'll heah somefin'wo'se than eveh come from de bottom ob de sea."

  "Worse?"

  "Worse!"

  The two exclamations rang like one as the two boys strained intoattention. They listened intently and then across the water came awhisking rushing sound followed by a deep 'boom' and a distant splash.It was several moments, too, before the swell from that splash reachedthe boat; when it did, the craft rocked noticeably.

  "What is that?" asked Colin.

  "Vampa, sah," answered the boatman, as he took his oars and started torow away in the opposite direction.

  "Hold on a bit there," the sponge-buyer said, "I never saw a vampire.What does it look like?"

  "Some calls 'em sea-bat or devil-ray," was the reply, "an' the'retwenty, thirty feet 'cross sometimes. They looks lak a sting ray. Ahdon' wan' to see 'em."

  "Isn't that a harpoon down there in the boat?" the capitalist askedcalmly.

  "Yes, sah, oh, yes, sah, but Lordy, sah, yo' can' do nuffin wif a seavampa. No, sah. Why, jes' oveh yondah dey was a big schooneh towed outto sea by a vampa."

  "A schooner?"

  "Yes, sah, a seven'y-ton schooneh. Yes, sah. He mus' ha' been a bigfellah an' goin' swimmin' along he struck de anchoh chain wif his hohns.It made him mad, right mad, it did, an' he jes' heave up dat hyeh anchohan' toted it off to sea, draggin' de ship wif him."

  The owner of the _Golden Falcon_ laughed.

  "Can you beat that? That's the worst fish story I've heard, Colin. Youtell some good ones, too!"

  "It's an old story," the boy answered, "and I believe it's true. Theyhave often run away with boats."

  The capitalist took off his coat and rolled up his sleeves.

  "I've harpooned dozens of porpoises from the _Falcon_," he said, "but Inever had a chance at a sea vampire. This begins to look interesting."

  "The devil ray, or manta as it is often called, will give you a run foryour money," said Colin, "and after all we can cut the line."

  "We'll not cut any line," was the response. "Now, Pete, get after him."

  But the negro fairly blubbered in terror.

  "Lordy, lord
y," he cried, "an' what yo' goin' t' do to a po' ol' niggeh.Ah'll do an'thin' yo' say, Ah'll tell yo' de troof about de spongefahms, an'thin', onl' don' go afteh dat vampa."

  "You'll tell me the truth about the sponge farms, eh?" the prospectivebuyer remarked sternly. "So you were trying to put up a crooked deal.I'll attend to you when we get ashore. Now you row after that 'vampa,'as you call it, and as quick as you know how."

  The negro was about to refuse, but he did not dare.

  "Oh, Lordy, boss," he cried, "don' go any neaheh. Yas, sah, yas, sah,"he added as he saw the yachtsman make a move towards him, "yas, sah,Ah'll row. But we all gwine to be smoddehed alive. Ah jes' knows it."

  Again, close at hand, came the swish and the dull 'boom,' and the negroshivered. Colin was conscious that his heart was pounding a little andhe caught himself wishing that it were the middle of the day instead ofevening. Then out of the water not ten feet from the boat a darkwitch-like specter swooped into the sky, black, horned, with bat-likewings and a long naked tail like a gigantic rat.

  Pete gave a squeal of fright.

  The monster rose till he was almost three feet clear of the surface,then turned so as to strike the water absolutely flat, and just beforethe crash and splash of the fall, Murren hurled the harpoon into thefish, and sprang back to clear the line. Although drenched and gaspingfrom the torrent of water thrown over the boat by the devil ray, Colintook a bight of the line from the second coil and passed it around theforemost thwart. He was just in time, for a few seconds later the ropetautened. There was just one jerk and the boat started flying throughthe water, sending up a green wall on either side that threatened toswamp it every instant.

  With the fight really begun, Colin became at once quite calm. Paul, whowas an absolutely fearless youngster, was laughing in glee.

  "Which way are we going, Pete?" asked the capitalist.

  "Lordy, Lordy, don' as' me; gwine to de bottom, boss. Ah knows we'hegwine to de bottom."

  The negro crouched down in the bottom of the boat, and the sponge buyerroared at him:

  "Sit up and watch where we're going, you coward! You know these reefs."

  "It don' matteh, boss, de vampa tuhn roun' in a minute an' jump on deboat an' smoddeh we all."

  It was not a pleasant suggestion. The ray was undoubtedly big enough todo that very thing, and everybody in the boat had seen its power toleap. But even the little study that Colin had given to fishes came tohis aid.

  "All rays live on shellfish," he said, "and they have small mouths withplates instead of teeth to crush the shells with. So that it reallycouldn't do us any harm, any way."

  "It's de smoddehin', boss, de smoddehin'. Oh, why did Ah try an' maketrouble ober dem durn sponge beds? Ef Ah eber gets on sho' again Ah'llbe a betteh man. Lordy, Lordy, what am Ah gwine to do?"

  His voice rose in a shriek.

  "He's a-comin' now!"

  The pointed fin jerked suddenly and a third of the gigantic shape heaveditself into the air as the devil ray whirled. There was an instant ofsuspense, but the giant went past, one huge fin beating the air like thewaving of some uncanny monstrous moth born in the terrors of anightmare, and the boat was wrenched around sharply, half filling it andalmost throwing Colin out.

  Over almost exactly the same course that he had taken, the ray racedback, the weight of the boat seeming to make no difference to its speed;and then a second time the creature turned. It seemed impossible thatwith a speed of not less than twenty miles an hour so huge acreature--the size of one side of a tennis court--could twist about inits own length. How the rope and the frame of the boat stood the strainno one ever knew.

  Once more the vampire turned; the boat nearly went over, but she was astaunch little craft, and the fish started down the lagoon between thereefs at its top speed. Often the creature put its two horn-liketentacles down for a dive, but the water was everywhere shallow andthere was no chance to drag the boat under.

  "It doesn't seem to be tiring much," the capitalist remarked, "but Idon't see what more we can do."

  "No," Colin answered, "I don't think the ray feels our weight at all. Ibelieve it's going faster."

  "We's all gwine to de bottom," wailed the negro. "Lordy, Ah been a badman, but ef Ah ebeh gets mah two feet asho' Ah'll nebeh do nuffinagain!"

  There was no doubt of it, the vampire was going faster and faster everyminute. The line hissed as it cut through the water, and Pete, despitehis moaning, was baling for dear life. Darkness was closing in and theray sped on. On either side were reefs, and many times the boat grazedsharp coral which would have ripped the bottom out of her if she hadstruck. Mr. Murren stood by the bow with knife in hand ready to cut,waiting to the last minute.

  Presently a line of breakers, between two islets, appeared directlyahead. It was only a matter of seconds till they would be reached, butremembering how the ray had turned before, Colin clutched the gunwale ofthe boat to prevent being flung out of it like a stone from a catapultwhen the creature swerved.

  "It's a-comin', now!" shrieked Pete. "We's a-gwine to be smoddehed. Oh,Lordy, Lordy, Ah's a dead niggeh."

  "Hold on tight, all, look out for yourself, Paul," Mr. Murren cried;"he's turning!"

  But he was wrong.

  Instead of the black fin edging its way up, the whole great bulk of theuncanny creature heaved itself above the water like a great cloud andfell into the surf on the rocks, flapped upon them, although halfstranded, and with a heave that seemed to make the reef tremble, plungedinto the sea beyond.

  "Better cut!" cried Colin.

  But before the word was fairly out of his lips, the bright steelgleamed in the dark, and with a grinding crash that seemed like the endof the world to Colin, the boat crumpled into splinters on the reef andthe three men were thrown in a heap among the breakers.

  The negro gave a yell that was enough to scare any one out of a year'sgrowth and lay spread out upon a rock as though he was some ungainlykind of black crab, arms and legs in every direction, while he fairlygibbered with fright.

  "Lordy, Lordy, don' let de debbil come an' take me now! Lordy, Ah ain'fit to die! Don' let him come back an' smoddeh us on de rocks! Ah ain'never goin' to get in a boat agen! On'y let me get home dis once!"

  Paul, though the youngest of the party, had escaped the most easily. Hehad pitched clear against Pete and thus had broken his fall, while atthe same time the impact of his weight had knocked nearly all the breathout of the negro's body. He had enough left, however, with which to makea powerful complaint.

  Bruised, even bleeding in one or two places, Colin picked himself out ofthe wreckage and looked across in the faint light at the owner of the_Golden Falcon_, who seemed to have escaped with a few scratches andwho was standing on the reef looking out to sea as though he wished thatthe fight were still on.

  MANTA, OR GIANT SEA-DEVIL, CAPTURED ON THE FLORIDA REEFS.

  _By permission of Mr. Chas. Fredk. Holder._]

  "I wonder," he said, as he saw that the boys were not hurt, "if thevampire had as much sport out of that as we did."