FIRST PART
CHAPTER 24: The Coral Realm
(continued)
Our lights produced a thousand delightful effects while playing over
these brightly colored boughs. I fancied I saw these cylindrical,
membrane-filled tubes trembling beneath the water's undulations.
I was tempted to gather their fresh petals, which were adorned with
delicate tentacles, some newly in bloom, others barely opened, while
nimble fish with fluttering fins brushed past them like flocks of birds.
But if my hands came near the moving flowers of these sensitive,
lively creatures, an alarm would instantly sound throughout the colony.
The white petals retracted into their red sheaths, the flowers vanished
before my eyes, and the bush changed into a chunk of stony nipples.
Sheer chance had placed me in the presence of the most valuable
specimens of this zoophyte. This coral was the equal of those fished
up from the Mediterranean off the Barbary Coast or the shores
of France and Italy. With its bright colors, it lived up to those
poetic names of blood flower and blood foam that the industry
confers on its finest exhibits. Coral sells for as much as 500
francs per kilogram, and in this locality the liquid strata hid
enough to make the fortunes of a whole host of coral fishermen.
This valuable substance often merges with other polyparies,
forming compact, hopelessly tangled units known as "macciota,"
and I noted some wonderful pink samples of this coral.
But as the bushes shrank, the tree forms magnified.
Actual petrified thickets and long alcoves from some fantastic
school of architecture kept opening up before our steps.
Captain Nemo entered beneath a dark gallery whose gentle slope
took us to a depth of 100 meters. The light from our glass coils
produced magical effects at times, lingering on the wrinkled roughness
of some natural arch, or some overhang suspended like a chandelier,
which our lamps flecked with fiery sparks. Amid these shrubs
of precious coral, I observed other polyps no less unusual:
melita coral, rainbow coral with jointed outgrowths, then a few
tufts of genus Corallina, some green and others red, actually a type
of seaweed encrusted with limestone salts, which, after long disputes,
naturalists have finally placed in the vegetable kingdom.
But as one intellectual has remarked, "Here, perhaps, is the actual
point where life rises humbly out of slumbering stone, but without
breaking away from its crude starting point."
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