It dawns upon our minds gradually that, even in ocean-depths, the law of compensation is not unrepresented. Even those dark regions, cut off though they are from all rays of sunlight, do not lie under total midnight blackness unrelieved. Even here, in these desolate nethermost parts of the ocean, creatures with eyes may live, and may find a good use for those eyes. For glimmer after glimmer is seen; and jelly-like animals under our feet, when accidentally touched, give forth rays, sometimes rays of many colours; and fishes, as they flash past, lend occasional gleams; and larger uncouth monsters do the same--all helping to light up a world beyond reach of the sun. Talk of depths! We are in them at last, and no mistake. Down--down! Deeper and deeper! Above our heads are piled three or four miles of water, and the pressure upon our unfortunate bodies is terrific. Here creatures of simplest form abound,--Protozoa, or First Animals, tiny jelly-like specks, mere living cells, too small by far for us to see, even with the help of animated deep-sea lanterns, unless we have carried with us a powerful microscope. But we know them to be there. The ooze and mud alone, when carefully examined, prove the fact. Here are foraminifera, living and dead; and skeletons of reef-coral, all dead; and specimens of deep-sea coral, both living and dead; and remains of bigger creatures innumerable, which have disported themselves in the waters above. Yet not so many of these last as one might have expected, because of the destructive power of sea-water. There are also plant-like zoophytes, and disc-shaped jelly-fishes. There are sea-urchins and starfishes. There are sponges in great numbers, wandering young ones and old ones settled down for life, once looked upon as vegetables, now known to be animals. There are molluscs of various kinds. There are long slimy wriggling worms. There are the inevitable crabs, large and small. There are countless fishes swimming about, not in the least embarrassed by the astounding fact that they have something like three and a half miles of water between them and fresh air and sunlight. [Illustration: DEEP-SEA FISHES _Face page 182_ ] Unexpectedly we come upon a great ship, lying where it has lately sunk. The busy sea, always busy even when most quiet, is hard at work demolishing the structure of the vessel; though still in the darkness we can feel the tall mast, the solid sides, of the noble craft, which once floated buoyantly far above, in light of day. Now it reposes on the ocean-bed, never again to be of service to man. Its race is run; its tale is told. Alas! good ship! which, but for one fatal storm, might still be actively engaged in its country’s service. But we find no human remains. If they be there, our searching has failed to alight on them. Small wonder, in the great space and the blackness. A medusa gleam of light has little power to aid us in this search.