Hour by hour the rise in temperature, although slow, was steady.
“At length, my men!” cried I to my crew, “we are on the right track. Be patient! I promise you that before the sun has quenched his fire in the western seas we shall cast anchor in Neptune’s Caldron!”
My predictions came true to the very letter.
Just as the last rays of sunlight were gilding the foam-crested waves of this mysterious sea, a long, low line of shore was sighted dead ahead, ending in a precipitous headland.
Bearing away we rounded this and found ourselves at the entrance of a large land-blocked bay or gulf, from different points in which huge columns of snow-white steam floated lazily skyward, twisting themselves in most fantastic shapes ere they vanished in the purple twilight.
My men sent up a loud, long, lusty cheer, as we sailed into Neptune’s Caldron.
As we drew near shore, to my great bewilderment, for I had not dared to think that living creatures could exist in these heated waters, I caught sight of moving things in the Caldron. Nay, there could be no doubt, for these heated waters were as limpid as a mountain spring and the bottom plainly visible ten fathoms below.
Fish of all colors and sizes floated hither and thither, while myriads of crabs, lobsters and other queerly shaped crustaceans crawled about on the snow-white sands, following their leaders in long lines, like a procession of cardinals, over the white marble pavement of some great city in the western world.
I say “crimson lines,” for the heat of the water had clothed them all in suits of richest red.
As I sat in the ship’s launch on my way to the shore, gazing dreamily down into the waters, half-dazed by these marvellous sights, a shoal of fish rose near the boat and turned their beautiful tinted sides for an instant to the cool air.