That was exactly what Johnny had planned. “No, I won’t mind,” he said, “that will be keen.”
A mist drifted out over the ocean. All that night Johnny paced the deck in a chill fog. No green light showed from the island hills. Once he thought he heard men’s voices, but nothing came of it. He was glad enough when he could crawl into his berth, draw his blankets over him, and lose himself in sleep.
When he awoke the sun was shining. It was mid-afternoon, and Dave was waiting for him to appear, for their trip below.
“What a life!” he murmured. After he had gulped some hot coffee, hurriedly bolted some seabiscuits and a piece of pie he reappeared on deck.
“All ready?” Dave asked.
“Soon as I get my camera and things.”
“Good! I’ll have the steel ball in shape P.D.Q.,” Dave grinned, good-naturedly.
“He’s really a nice chap,” Johnny thought. “Only he takes science and discovery pretty seriously. I suppose we’ll discover some saber-toothed viper fish, or maybe some flying snails!” He smiled at his thoughts. Life was not half bad after all.
Half an hour later he was experiencing such thrills as only the deep, deep sea could bring. Some five hundred feet beneath the surface of the sea he sat doubled up in his place, staring at an ever changing panorama. A rocky wall, not twenty feet from him, stood up like a sky-scraper, straight and tall. Here and there it was broken by fissures and caves. Everywhere it was festooned with sea vegetation—seaweed, kelp, anemones. All these, with coral that rose like Gothic architecture, were entrancing.
Dave was by his side—not to admire, but to record. The look on his face was almost solemn. As they moved slowly downward Dave spoke into a small microphone and Doris, up on deck, recorded his words. Strange words they were, too: “A school of parrot fish; three hatchet fish; two round-mouths; a golden-tailed serpent dragon; a—oh—oh!—Hold everything!”