When weary of gazing at the shore there was a submarine forest to inspect beneath them where the sea-weed waved and the corals and other sea-growths stood up in the tiny valleys and gorges which the rock displayed. Sea-anemones waved their tentacles as they looked like tempting flowers which invited the tiny fish and crustaceans to inspect their beauties, and at the slightest touch of one of these waving petals fell paralysed, or were drawn into the all-absorbing mouth that took the place of the nectary in a flower.
Every stroke of the oars, too, sent the brilliant little fish scurrying away in shoals—fish that were gorgeous beyond description, and were to the water what the sun-birds were to the air.
All at once the men ceased rowing and allowed the boat to stop.
“What is it?” said the captain.
Billy Widgeon, who had been looking out seaward, pointed with his oar to something glistening on the top of the water, and then, giving a whispered hint to his companion, the latter gave one sturdy tug at his oar and then raised it and let the boat glide on, curving in a semicircle toward the object on the water.
“A sea-serpent!” whispered Mark.
“Yes, and a real one,” said Gregory as they all watched the creature lying basking and evidently asleep in the hot sunshine.
Setting aside its shape, which always seems repellent, it was beautiful in the extreme, being marked with broad bands of orange upon a purple ground; and as it lay there on the blue water it seemed hard to believe that it could be dangerous.
“We’re not on a collecting expedition,” whispered the captain, taking up his gun; “but I should like to have that to show to people who say there are no serpents in the sea. What’s that, Gregory—ten-feet long?”
“Twelve at least. Aim at his head.”