One thing, too, the boys noticed was the immense amount of fish attracted by the glare from the observation searchlights. Through the green, pellucid water, illuminated by the bright light from the observation tube, it at times appeared as if they were gazing into a show tank in some vast aquarium. Like most boys, Jack and Tom had both read “Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea,” but even that fascinating history of life in deep waters had failed to give them any idea of the immense amount of life that goes on in the submarine depths.
Of course, at the speed the White Shark kept up—for time was imperative—it was impossible to see much more of the fish than their fleeting forms, like flocks of birds seen from a train window. But even this was interesting. You may be inclined to ask how the White Shark was kept on her course without danger in the depths.
The answer is that she was guided just like any other ship in the dark night, by her compass. Before turning the watch over to the next man, each occupant of the steering chair gave him the direction in which Silas Hardtack, the ship’s navigator, had ordered the prow to be kept. The course was due south, and this made it doubly easy to keep the White Shark on her true line of progress.
As to depth, the chart showed ample water everywhere, even should the White Shark traverse the underwaters at a depth of two hundred feet. But there was nothing to be gained by doing this, as, at such great depths, pressure and friction would be so increased as to seriously impede the submarine craft’s progress, and haste was a necessity.
After this digression concerning the night, we will follow the boys up to the deck after breakfast, for at dawn the White Shark had been driven to the surface and the ventilators opened. While the air was not foul, still it was a relief to open everything that could be opened, and set in motion fans that drew the stale air out of the interior of the craft.
As soon as their morning meal had been dispatched, both boys hastened on deck. The sea was still and calm, the air cool and clear and the sky cloudless.
They were in the gulf stream, and the water was of an intense blue. At the sides where the Archimedian screws were biting steadily into the water, it had a hue of the most transparent turquoise. Great patches of yellow gulf-weed floated everywhere, and as the White Shark nosed through these, flying fish flew from them in whole coveys.
It seemed as if the boys could not tire of watching these strange fish, which, of course, do not “fly” at all in the true sense, but skim the water, supported by their broad fins.
“Hullo!”
“Hullo, yourself, Tom; what’s up?”