_Letter from a Passenger on Board the Submarine Steamer._
Well, here we are, safe and sound at the bottom of the Bay of Biscay,
where we intend to sleep one night, for the purpose of testing the
qualities of the bed of the ocean, which consists, as you will suppose,
of several sheets of water, and plenty of wet blankets, with billows
instead of pillows on the top of it.
Not being able to keep my head above water I determined on making a bold
plunge, and therefore took my passage in the submarine steamer, where
several others, who were, like myself, over head and ears, were anxious
to keep out of the way, and having sunk all my available capital, I
thought it better to sink myself by way of looking after it.
We have had a very delightful voyage, but we met on our way with some
very odd fish, who stared rather rudely in at our cabin windows, and a
party of lobsters looked exceedingly black as we passed very near to
them. The mermaids were much alarmed at first, but soon became
reconciled to our appearance, and, when we talked of weighing our
anchor, they, with much simplicity, offered us the use of their scales.
You are aware that a company is forming for the purpose of turning the
tide of emigration towards the bottom of the sea; and if people can live
under water, they ought not, from mere motives of pride, to be above it.
There will, of course, be some difficulty in dealing with the natives,
but we have taken the precaution to treat with an influential oyster,
who, however, keeps extremely close, and, if he will not manifest a
little more openness, it is expected that war to the knife must be
resorted to. We at first anticipated some hostility from the sharks,
but, as we purposely abstained from bringing any lawyers among the first
settlers, we have now very little fear of a collision on account of
conflicting interests.
The appearance of our vessel has caused a considerable sensation among
the inhabitants of the ocean, but we have followed the plan of the early
emigrants to strange parts, and endeavoured to propitiate the various
fish by trifling presents. We threw a box of antibilious pills to a
large party of Cockles, and we pitched overboard a quantity of false
collars to a group of salmon, whose gills seemed sadly out of condition.
We also distributed copies of Crabbe and Shelley to as many of the
crustaceous fish as approached near enough to our vessel to enable us to
do so; while to a dog-fish we presented a fine specimen of bark, which
he did not appear very much to relish. We met on our way down with one
of the white sharks, which are known to be the terror of mariners. The
creature stared at us with both its eyes, and, while we maintained an
awful silence, the shark seemed to respond to our muteness by holding
its jaw in the most alarming manner: the extended cavity of its
frightful mouth presented a harrowing exhibition, and it seemed as if,
like other exhibitions, it might be "open from ten to four," and then it
would have been ten to one if we had escaped from being drawn into it.
The tremendous teeth seemed clearly to indicate that there would be "no
admittance except on business," and we at length sheered off from sheer
timidity.
If we can only manage to get up a colony down here, there will be plenty
of patronage at our disposal; and if we are allowed the appointment of a
bishop, where can there be a finer see than that which is here open to
him? I have already issued prospectuses of a grand _Oceanic Agricultural
Association_, to be established for the purpose of regularly ploughing
the deep, and dividing the proceeds among the shareholders. I state, in
my advertisement, that, as we know the sea has produced sea-weed, we may
reasonably expect that other vegetable matter may be reared, and as
irrigation is the chief expense of agriculture, the saving in the
article of water alone must keep the thing afloat—to say nothing of what
will naturally flow into the coffers of the company.
I must now conclude my letter, for the vessel is about to start; and, as
"tide and time wait for no man," you will perceive that I am so far tied
to time as to be unable to add more than that I am
Your right down friend at the bottom,
DAVID DRINKWATER.
P.S.—We have not yet visited the extensive locker of Davy Jones,
Esquire, but we intend very shortly doing so.
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