The discussion went on. Terry saw Deirdre talking to a middle-aged woman with a splendid sun-tan and a placid expression on her face. Doug and Tony sat watchfully on the side lines, listening. Doug had been offered, and had accepted, a sandwich. He ate it methodically. Terry had a sudden feeling of unreality. Less than half an hour before he'd been in torment and, but for Deirdre, on his way to death. On the _Esperance_ there'd been so much that was absorbing in the way of fish behavior that he'd forgotten some people were interested in other things. Here a dozen people squabbled over the behavior of a meteorite. Nothing could be of less consequence to the outside world. But in the outside world, people argued about baseball, or golf, or politics.... Doug excused himself and slipped outside. Terry joined him there a little later. Doug was smoking a cigarette, looking at the sky and the palms. "Pretty heavy discussion," said Terry. "It's over my head," said Doug. "I got lonesome. It made me think of my girl. She likes to talk like this. That's why ..." He stopped. "Is there an aqualung outfit on the _Esperance_?" asked Terry. "Sure! Two or three of them. Mr. Davis had an idea they'd be useful. Used one of them last week to look at the _Esperance's_ bottom-planks. Why?" "I'd like to poke around the bottom of the lagoon a little," said Terry, with unconscious grimness. "Would you help?" "Sure!" said Doug. They went back to the _Esperance_. Doug got out two aqualung outfits. They checked the valves and tanks and connections. Doug brought out two spring guns. In half an hour they were in the outboard, headed for what Doug said was the deepest part of the lagoon. Arrived there, Terry tested the water with his finger and then went overside. Instead of a spring gun, he used one of the fish spears that seemed to be standard equipment for fishing, here. Doug stayed in the boat to watch. Terry'd guessed that what he looked for would be in the deepest part of the lagoon. He was right. Within half an hour he'd speared five fish of types that had no business being within two thousand fathoms of the surface. He ignored the lagoon's normal inhabitants. He picked on fish of a dark-red color, which is predominant in the depths but not elsewhere. When the fish had extremely small eyes or extremely large ones, he hunted them determinedly, knowing they were deep-sea fish. He caught five, which was a good haul, even considering his previous suspicions. Doug inspected the catch as the outboard went back to the yacht. Terry replaced his spear under the gunwale. "They're queer fish," observed Doug. "I wouldn't want to eat them." "Neither would I," agreed Terry. "But I feel a certain sympathy for them. I think we've shared an experience."