“Maybe not,” returned Tom; “but it’s blue fire for all that. Leastwise if it’s not, I don’t know wot else it is.”
Tom had often seen this light before, no doubt, but he had never given himself the trouble to find out what it could be. Fortunately the captain came up just as I put the question, and he enlightened me on the subject.
“It is caused by small animals,” said he, leaning over the side.
“Small animals!” said I, in astonishment.
“Ay, many parts of the sea are full of creatures so small and so thin and colourless, that you can hardly see them even in a clear glass tumbler. Many of them are larger than others, but the most of them are very small.”
“But how do they shine like that, sir?” I asked.
“That I do not know, boy. God has given them the power to shine, just as he has given us the power to walk or speak; and they do shine brightly, as you see; but how they do it is more than I can tell. I think, myself, it must be anger that makes them shine, for they generally do it when they are stirred up or knocked about by oars, or ships’ keels, or tumbling waves. But I am not sure that that’s the reason either, because, you know, we often sail through them without seeing the light, though of course they must be there.”
“P’raps, sir,” said Tom Lokins; “p’raps, sir, they’re sleepy sometimes, an’ can’t be bothered gettin’ angry.”
“Perhaps!” answered the captain, laughing. “But then again, at other times, I have seen them shining over the whole sea when it was quite calm, making it like an ocean of milk; and nothing was disturbing them at that time, d’ye see.”
“I don’ know that,” objected Tom; “they might have bin a-fightin’ among theirselves.”