CHAPTER XXXVIII.
The Sea On Fire The night following our abandonment of the Parki, was made memorable by a remarkable spectacle.
Slumbering in the bottom of the boat, Jarl and I were suddenly awakened by Samoa.

Starting, we beheld the ocean of a pallid white color, corruscating all over with tiny golden sparkles.

But the pervading hue of the water cast a cadaverous gleam upon the boat, so that we looked to each other like ghosts.

For many rods astern our wake was revealed in a line of rushing illuminated foam; while here and there beneath the surface, the tracks of sharks were denoted by vivid, greenish trails, crossing and recrossing each other in every direction.

Farther away, and distributed in clusters, floated on the sea, like constellations in the heavens, innumerable Medusae, a species of small, round, refulgent fish, only to be met with in the South Seas and the Indian Ocean.
Suddenly, as we gazed, there shot high into the air a bushy jet of flashes, accompanied by the unmistakable deep breathing sound of a sperm whale.