The latter went out. Soon the panels closed. The ceiling lit up.
I went over to the captain.
“An unusual assortment of devilfish,” I told him, as carefree as a collector in front of an aquarium.
“Correct, Mr. Naturalist,” he answered me, “and we’re going to fight them at close quarters.”
I gaped at the captain. I thought my hearing had gone bad.
“At close quarters?” I repeated.
“Yes, sir. Our propeller is jammed. I think the horn-covered mandibles of one of these squid are entangled in the blades. That’s why we aren’t moving.”
“And what are you going to do?”
“Rise to the surface and slaughter the vermin.”
“A difficult undertaking.”