have been produced by some tremendously powerful illuminating agent. The luminous part described an immense elongated oval upon the water, in the centre of which was condensed a focus of unbearable brilliancy, which radiated by successive gradations.
“It is nothing but an agglomeration of phosphorescent molecules,” cried one of the officers.
“No, sir,” I replied, firmly, “neither the pholades nor salpæ produce such a powerful light. This brilliancy is essentially electric. But look—look—it moves, it advances—it retreats—it is rushing towards us!”
A general cry arose.
“Silence,” cried Farragut. “Put the helm up—hard! Turn astern!”
The sailors rushed to the wheel; the engineers to the engine-room. The engine was reversed, and the Abraham Lincoln payed off to larboard, and described a semi-circle.
“Steady!”—“Go ahead!” cried Commodore Farragut.
These orders were executed, and the frigate rapidly distanced the luminous object. I should have said, attempted to distance it, for the supernatural animal moved with twice the speed of the frigate.
We were speechless. Astonishment more than fear kept us silent and motionless. The animal gained upon us easily. He swam round the frigate, which was then going fourteen knots, and wrapped us in his electric beams like a luminous dust, He then went away for two or three miles, leaving a phosphorescent line behind him, like the volumes of steam left by the engine of an express train. All at once, from the dark limit of the horizon
