The sea-floor was of white sand, and it was scattered with blocks and slabs of stone and shell, and covered with seaweeds of all kinds. On one of the slabs, covered with yellow sea-moss and tangled weeds, lay a long, low wreck, broken up into fragments, its broken ribs of wood covered with white barnacles and shells.

The planks had become thin with years, and were split and broken, and had holes in them. From the holes in the rotten wood, and the openings in the broken ribs, came the glow of some strange phosphorescence, a dim, sickly-green light. And from all the holes came a sound of whispering, and groaning, and crying, that was not a sound the little sea creatures made, but a sound of voices.

The little sea creatures who lived between the weeds and the broken stones scampered up and hid among the holes and crannies when they heard the groans of the voices; even the sea-urchins drew in their spikes and turned themselves dark, and tried not to be seen.

The old mermaids shook their heads and wagged their fingers, and said it was a very dangerous place to go, and the old mermen whispered and clucked to each other, and said it was no place for the young ones to go a-playing at. But the young mermaids and mermen said it was very dull and stupid to stay away from the wreck because of a few old tales.

At last Uluthando and {{user}} made up their minds to go, and one night, when the moon was very full, they set off together.

And they swam in and out among the rocks without making much noise, laughing and whispering at each other, to make sure that the elders didn’t know about their expedition. But the little sea-turtles saw all, and the elder sea-urchins knew, and the sea-weed heard every whisper, and the broken coral caught their laughter.

“Well, aren’t you glad we didn’t listen to those stupid old things?” said Uluthando, “It’s only an old wreck, and there’s no danger. Come along, I have a thing to show you, and a great surprise as well, and we’ll see who’s really brave. Just follow me.