"I believe, on my soul, there are serpents on the sea bottom! there are real serpents' tails sticking out of the mud—and there are their heads."
"They are eels, my boy!" informed the commissioner.
The pilot looked incredulous for he had never heard of eels in the sea, but the commissioner would not give out his best card in advance or lavish long explanations over intricate things, therefore he left the oars and, taking his water telescope, leaned over the gunwale for observation.
He seemed to seek something with uncommon ardor, something that must be there, on this or that shoal but which he naturally had not seen there before, never having investigated that water.
They rowed around for two hours as the commissioner indicated, sometimes letting down his dredge, sometimes the lead line, and after each haul lying face downwards and looking through the glass into the water. His pale face contracted from the efforts and the eyes sunk into his head while the hand which held the tube trembled and the arms seemed stiff and numb as a stake. The cold, humid wind, which passed through the pilot's jacket did not seem to bite the frail figure which was only wrapped in a half-buttoned spring coat. His eyes watered from the sea wind and the endeavor to look sharply down into the half-impenetrable element which forms three-quarters of the earth's surface, about the life of which the other quarter generally knows so little and guesses so much.
Through the water telescope, which was not of his invention, but one he had made from what he had heard from bridge builders and laborers in marine blasting, he saw down into a lower world from which the great creation above the waters had been evolved. The forest of seaweed which had just advanced over the border from inorganic to organic life, swayed in the cold bottom current and resembled whites of eggs just coagulated, borrowing their shape from the surf and recalling frost flowers, when water freezes on the window pane. Down in the depths the kelp spread out like big parks with golden leaves, over which the inhabitants of the sea bottom dragged themselves on their bellies seeking cold and obscurity, concealing their shame of being behind in their long wandering toward the sun and air. Lowest down in the clay the flounder rests, partly dug into the ooze, lazy, immovable, without inventive faculty to develop a swim-bladder with which to raise himself, waiting a happy chance that leads the prey past his nose, without the impulse of turning the random to his advantage, and from pure laziness having twisted and stretched himself until his eyes for convenience' sake have stopped on the right side of the twisted head.
The blenny has already put one pair of oars out forward, but is loaded down by the stern and reminds one of the first trial at boat building, showing between the kelp's heraldic foliage his architectonic stone head with a Croat's mustache, lifting himself a moment from the mud to sink again immediately into it.
The lump sucker with its seven ridges goes with a keel to the air, the whole fish one enormous nose, smelling only for food and females, lighting for a moment the blue-green water with its rose-colored belly, spreading a faint aurora around him down in the gloom, and hugging again quickly a stone with his sucker to await the issue of the millions of years, which shall bring delivery to those left behind in the endless path of evolution.
The dreadful sea scorpion, that fury incarnate, with malice expressed in the spines of its face, whose swimming limbs are claws, but more for torturing than for attack or defense, lying on one side pining for enjoyment, and caressing his own body with his slimy tail.
Higher up in lighter and warmer water swims the handsome but profound thinking perch, perhaps the most characteristic fish of the Baltic Sea, well built and steady but still somewhat clumsy as a Koster boat, bearing the peculiar blue-green color of the Baltic and a Norseman's temper, part philosopher part pirate, a sociable hermit, a superficial creature who likes to seek the depths, and sometimes reaches them, idle and eccentric. He stands during long leisure moments and stares at the stones on the beach until awakening he darts off like an arrow, tyrant against his own but soon tamed, returns willingly to the same place, and harbors seven intestinal worms.