"Ten, fifteen feet at low tide," she informed him. "We're having a sort of dredge made there. Something to go down into the sea, take pictures, get samples of the bottom, and then come up again. There's an oceanographic ship due in Manila shortly, by the way. It will have a bathyscaphe on board. Maybe that will help find out some answers." Then she said uncomfortably, "I have a feeling the bathyscaphe isn't ... safe." He glanced up. "_Ellos?_" He grinned as she looked sharply at him. Then he said, "This dredge: isn't it pretty ambitious for a boat this size to try to dredge some thousands of fathoms down?" "It's a free dredge," she said. "It will sink by itself and come up by itself. There's no cable. What are you doing now?" He'd put away the submarine microphone he'd just altered and was now taking out the still untested underwater horn. "I'm going to try to make this directional, too," he said. "In fact, I'm going to try to make it project sound in a beam shaped like a fan. A hollow cone may come later." She was silent. The _Esperance_ sailed on. "Ever talk to the skipper of _La Rubia_?" he asked presently. She shook her head. "You should. He's a stupendous, self-confident liar," said Terry. "He lies automatically. Gratuitously. A completely amiable man, but he can't tell the truth without stopping to think." "We found that out," said Deirdre. "I didn't. Someone else." "Is this another censored subject, or can I ask what happened?" "I'd better see about lunch," said Deirdre quickly. She got up and left. Terry shrugged. The day before yesterday, or even yesterday, he'd have been indignant. But then he'd known these people had secrets in which he had no share. Today he was beginning to share those secrets, and he had fabulously nonsensical material on which to work on his own. He had strange ideas about the event of last night. He did not quite believe them, but he thought he had devised some ways to see how much of truth they contained, if any. Deirdre could keep her secrets, so long as he did not have to disclose his own wildly imaginative ideas. The routine of the yacht went on. It was in a way a very casual routine. Davis gave orders when the need arose, but there was no formal discipline; there was co-operation. Terry heard one of the crew-cuts ask Deirdre a question using her first name. It would have been highly improbable in a paid crew, but it was reasonable enough in a volunteer expedition. He heard Deirdre say, "Why don't you ask him?" The crew-cut, Tony, came to the part of the deck where Terry worked. "We got into an argument," he said without preface. "We were talking about that ... 'whale' last night." Terry nodded. The use of the term "whale" was a deliberate pretense that the previous night's events were natural and normal. "How fast do you think it was traveling when it broached?" asked Tony. "I know a whale can jump clear of the water. I've seen it in the movies. But that one jumped awfully high!"