The Depths of Fear
In the deep sea the temperature is just above freezing; the darkness
is absolute; the pressure is many tons to the square inch. But still,
life has been found, even in the greatest depths. It is strange life,
to be sure, for the organisms must be developed to withstand the great
pressure, and to generate their own light. It is an odd truth of nature
that there is some form of life adapted for each locality. There are
the mosses and reindeer of the frigid north, the cactus and lizards
of the burning deserts, the blind creatures of the Mammoth Cave, the
stranger things of the deepest seas! May it not be that there are
entities living out in space, or in the earth's interior, of which we
may never know? Such were my thoughts as we dropped to meet the menace
that had risen from under the sea!
We sank swiftly, and steadily the manometer climbed. The water was dark
but for the bright beams of the searchlights, and very cold, though,
with the insulation and the electric heaters, we felt no discomfort.
The pressure on the plates must have been terrific beyond conception.
It seemed impossible that metal--even our cleverly braced plates of
the wonderful beryllium bronze--could withstand so much, when even the
rocks of the ocean floor "creep" and bend beneath the water's weight!
Thousands upon thousands of feet we sank, and still the sea was dark
and cold! In our wild plunge downward I caught fleeting glimpses of
many of the weirdly grotesque creatures of the deep, flashing past in
the gleam of our lights.
At last Sam had completed his preparations for the emergency that might
arise when we reached our goal. He came into the conning-tower. I
looked at the manometer--in fact, I had been looking at it most of the
time.
"Pressure four thousand pounds!" I read. "That means we are nearly
eight thousand feet down! I wonder how much longer--"
"Remember," Sam said softly. "Remember that we have to go ten miles
down--fifty thousand feet!"
"Fifty thousand feet! Every cubic foot of water weighs sixty-five
pounds. Fifty thousand times sixty-five, divided over one hundred and
forty-four square inches. That is--about twenty-two thousand pounds to
the square inch! Eleven tons!"
"Somewhat more, I fancy, say 23,800 pounds," Sam observed calmly.
"What's the difference? Nothing could live or move under such a weight!"
"The thing we have come to investigate lives there, if it is a living
thing at all."
I said nothing more. Somehow, I did not feel inclined to conversation.
I could think only of the terrific weight of water so near, pressing so
mercilessly upon the thin plates, think only of how cruelly it would
crush and tear us when it found its way in! I gazed at the little
needle with a sort of fascination. It crept slowly around the dial,
counting up the pounds of the irresistible pressure that surrounded us.
The minutes dragged by. The little needle showed a depth of fifteen
thousand feet, almost three miles. The height of a good mountain, and
still it crept up! And yet we were not a third of the way! Suddenly I
heard a splintering crackle that grated roughly on my strained nerves.
I looked down. The unconscious grip of my hand had splintered the top
panel of the back of a chair by my side!
Sam was looking at me, grinning. "I'm glad you didn't have your hand on
me, Mel."
I glanced back at the needle, and shouted in surprised relief.
"It has stopped!"
Truly, the pointer stood still! As we watched it, it hung still a
moment under my riveted gaze, and then crept back!
"It's a turning point! The pressure is getting less!"
"It couldn't be!" Sam said. "Unless we are rising!"
"No! See! The buoyancy tanks are still flooded!"
"The duplicate pressure gauge?"
"It turned back with the other!"
"Look! Yes, we are still sinking." He pointed to the windows. "See! The
fish are still flashing upward in the light!"
In speechless wonder, we stood and watched. Still we were evidently
sinking. Still the dark waters rushed up about us. And still the
needles crept back!
Suddenly Sam seized my shoulder in a hand of iron. "Look!" he whispered
hoarsely, pointing out through the heavy lenses. "Can't you see? A
light! A red gleam beyond our searchlights!"
A switch clicked under the nervous fingers of his other hand, and our
lights went out. In a moment, as soon as my eyes were accustomed to the
darkness, I saw that he was right! The sea was not black! There was a
pale, roseate glow suffused through it!
Steadily it grew stronger. We were coming into a region of light, and
of decreased pressure, at the bottom of the sea! Of all wonders!
The red light grew stronger, until it seemed that we sank through a sea
of molten ruby--through an ocean of blood. Intense red light poured in
through the lenses until I had to hide my eyes. With shaded eyes, Sam
bent over the manometer.
"Only two hundred feet!" he cried. "Fifty! Ten!"
Suddenly the floor fell away from beneath my feet. We seemed to have
dropped from the sea into a lake of fire. A blindingly intense red
glare poured in the windows. I was very sick. The ship reeled about me,
the floor sank, dropped away! I grasped dizzily for the table, drew
myself blindly toward it!
I remember hanging limply and helplessly to the table for a moment,
remember Sam pushing me suddenly away. I have a dim memory of a
crashing thunder of sound that reverberated deafeningly and seemed to
roll away to infinite distances through the fiery mist. And with that
strange, deep sound, my consciousness faded away!