exploring this one small pool, but Mick was in a hurry
to move along. So they continued their trek toward the distant line of the sea, zigzagging
to avoid areas of coral too fragile to bear their weight.
Once, Mick stopped to collect a spotted shell the size and shape of a fir cone. “Look
at this,” he said, holding it up to Johnny.
A black, pointed hook, like a tiny sickle, was vainly stabbing at him from one end
of the shell.
“Poisonous,” said Mick. “If
that
gets you, you’ll be very sick. You could even die.”
He put the shell back on the rocks while Johnny looked at it thoughtfully. Such a
beautiful, innocent-looking object—yet it contained death! He did not forget that
lesson in a hurry.
But he also learned that the reef was perfectly safe to explore if you followed two
common-sense rules. The first was to watch where you were stepping; the second was
never to touch anything unless you
knew
that it was harmless.
At last they reached the edge of the reef and stood looking down into the gently heaving
sea. The tide was still going out, and water was pouring off the exposed coral down
hundreds of little valleys it had carved in the living rock. There were large, deep
pools here, open to the sea, and in them swam fish much bigger than any Johnny had
seen before.
“Come along,” said Mick, adjusting his face mask. With scarcely a ripple, he slipped
into the nearest pool, not even looking back to see if Johnny was following him.
Johnny hesitated for a moment, decided that he did not want to appear a coward, and
lowered himself gingerly over the brittle coral. As soon as the water rose above his
face mask, he forgot all his fears. The submarine world into which he had looked from
above was even more beautiful, now that he was actually floating face down on the
surface. He seemed like a fish himself, swimming in a giant aquarium, and able to
see everything with crystal clarity through the window of his mask.
Very slowly, he followed Mick along the winding walls, between coral cliffs that grew
farther and farther apart as they approached the sea. At first the water was only
two or three feet deep; then, quite abruptly, the bottom fell away almost vertically,
and before Johnny realized what had happened, he was in water twenty feet deep. He
had swum off the great plateau of the reef, and was heading for the open sea.
For a moment he was really frightened. He stopped swimming and marked time in the
water, looking back over his shoulder to check that safety was only a few yards behind
him. Then he looked ahead once more—ahead and downward.
It was impossible to guess how far he could see into the depths—a hundred feet, at
least. He was looking down a long, steep slope that led into a realm completely different
from the brightly lit, colorful pools which he had just left. From a world sparkling
with sunlight, he was staring into a blue, mysterious gloom. And far down in that
gloom, huge shapes were moving back and forth in a stately dance.
“What are they?” he whispered to his companion.
“Groupers,” said Mick. “Watch.” Then, to Johnny’s alarm, he slipped beneath the surface
and arrowed down into the depths, as swiftly and gracefully as any fish.
He became smaller and smaller as he approached those moving shapes, and they seemed
to grow in size by comparison. When he stopped, perhaps fifty feet down, he was floating
just above them. He reached out, trying to touch one of the huge fish, but it gave
a flick of its tail and eluded him.
Mick seemed in no hurry to return to the surface, but Johnny had taken at least a
dozen breaths while he was watching the performance. At last, to the great relief
of his audience, Mick began to swim slowly upward, waving good-by to the groupers
as he did so.
“How big were those fish?” asked Johnny when Mick had popped out of the water and
recovered his breath.
“Oh, only eighty, a
to move along. So they continued their trek toward the distant line of the sea, zigzagging
to avoid areas of coral too fragile to bear their weight.
Once, Mick stopped to collect a spotted shell the size and shape of a fir cone. “Look
at this,” he said, holding it up to Johnny.
A black, pointed hook, like a tiny sickle, was vainly stabbing at him from one end
of the shell.
“Poisonous,” said Mick. “If
that
gets you, you’ll be very sick. You could even die.”
He put the shell back on the rocks while Johnny looked at it thoughtfully. Such a
beautiful, innocent-looking object—yet it contained death! He did not forget that
lesson in a hurry.
But he also learned that the reef was perfectly safe to explore if you followed two
common-sense rules. The first was to watch where you were stepping; the second was
never to touch anything unless you
knew
that it was harmless.
At last they reached the edge of the reef and stood looking down into the gently heaving
sea. The tide was still going out, and water was pouring off the exposed coral down
hundreds of little valleys it had carved in the living rock. There were large, deep
pools here, open to the sea, and in them swam fish much bigger than any Johnny had
seen before.
“Come along,” said Mick, adjusting his face mask. With scarcely a ripple, he slipped
into the nearest pool, not even looking back to see if Johnny was following him.
Johnny hesitated for a moment, decided that he did not want to appear a coward, and
lowered himself gingerly over the brittle coral. As soon as the water rose above his
face mask, he forgot all his fears. The submarine world into which he had looked from
above was even more beautiful, now that he was actually floating face down on the
surface. He seemed like a fish himself, swimming in a giant aquarium, and able to
see everything with crystal clarity through the window of his mask.
Very slowly, he followed Mick along the winding walls, between coral cliffs that grew
farther and farther apart as they approached the sea. At first the water was only
two or three feet deep; then, quite abruptly, the bottom fell away almost vertically,
and before Johnny realized what had happened, he was in water twenty feet deep. He
had swum off the great plateau of the reef, and was heading for the open sea.
For a moment he was really frightened. He stopped swimming and marked time in the
water, looking back over his shoulder to check that safety was only a few yards behind
him. Then he looked ahead once more—ahead and downward.
It was impossible to guess how far he could see into the depths—a hundred feet, at
least. He was looking down a long, steep slope that led into a realm completely different
from the brightly lit, colorful pools which he had just left. From a world sparkling
with sunlight, he was staring into a blue, mysterious gloom. And far down in that
gloom, huge shapes were moving back and forth in a stately dance.
“What are they?” he whispered to his companion.
“Groupers,” said Mick. “Watch.” Then, to Johnny’s alarm, he slipped beneath the surface
and arrowed down into the depths, as swiftly and gracefully as any fish.
He became smaller and smaller as he approached those moving shapes, and they seemed
to grow in size by comparison. When he stopped, perhaps fifty feet down, he was floating
just above them. He reached out, trying to touch one of the huge fish, but it gave
a flick of its tail and eluded him.
Mick seemed in no hurry to return to the surface, but Johnny had taken at least a
dozen breaths while he was watching the performance. At last, to the great relief
of his audience, Mick began to swim slowly upward, waving good-by to the groupers
as he did so.
“How big were those fish?” asked Johnny when Mick had popped out of the water and
recovered his breath.
“Oh, only eighty, a
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