very attentive, “because the water surrounds me, and does not enter the body.”
“Precisely, Ned; so at thirty-two feet below the surface of the sea you would be subject to a pressure of 17,568 kilogrammes; at 320 feet ten times that pressure, that is to say, 175,680 kilogrammes; at 3,200 feet 100 times that pressure, viz., 1,756,800 kilogrammes; at 32,000 feet at least 1,000 times that pressure, viz., 17,568,000 kilogrammes. In other words, you would be flattened out as if you had been under a hydraulic press.”
“The devil!” exclaimed Ned.
“So, my worthy harpooner, if vertebrates, many hundred metres long and large in proportion, live at such depths, and whose surface is represented by millions of centimetres, we must estimate the pressure to which they are subject by thousands of millions of kilogrammes. Calculate now what the strength of their bony structures and organism must be to enable them to resist such pressure.”
“They must be like ironclad frigates,” replied Ned.
“Just so, Ned; and now think of the damage such a mass could do, if, going at express speed, it encountered the hull of a ship.”
“Well—yes—perhaps,” replied the Canadian, staggered by these figures, but unwilling to yield to them.
“Well, are you convinced?”
“You have convinced me of one thing, sir, and that is that if such animals live at the bottom of the sea, they must necessarily be as strong as you state.”
