Under their gelatinous domes was the skein of filaments that served them for locomotion, nutrition and reproduction.
The fishermen had only to pull in their lines and a new prisoner would fall into their boat.

Their baskets were filling up so fast that the _Triton_ and his nephew grew tired of this easy fishing....

The sun was now near the height of its curve, and every wavelet was carrying away a bit of the golden band that divided the blue immensity.

The wood of the boat appeared to be on fire.
"We've earned our day's pay," said the _Triton_, looking at the sky and then at the baskets.

"Now let's clean up a little bit." And stripping off his clothing, he threw himself into the sea.