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The mighty deep cover

The mighty deep

Chapter 7: CHAPTER III. EARTH’S VAST OCEAN
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About This Book

This work surveys the ocean's physical makeup, dynamics, and life, explaining salt composition, global basins, currents, winds, and ice formations, and describing sedimentation, coral construction, and deep-sea habitats. It summarizes methods and discoveries from marine research, presents the variety of marine organisms from microscopic diatoms to whales and crustaceans, and discusses fisheries and human uses of the sea. Organized into thematic chapters, it balances natural history, geology, and oceanography for general readers, combining observational accounts, scientific explanations, and descriptions of exploration to convey the ocean's processes and abundant life.

CHAPTER III.

EARTH’S VAST OCEAN

“Thou great strong sea.”—Auberon Herbert.

“Drop by drop He counts
The flood of Ocean as it mounts.”—C. Rossetti.

IN these days we know the Ocean as one vast whole. Not like our early forefathers, standing on the brink, to gaze with awe-stricken eyes into mysterious distances, and to speculate upon the unknown.

Minor oceans do exist, certainly. We have the Atlantic, North and South; the Pacific, North and South; the Arctic, the Antarctic, and the Indian. Yet for us there is but one great world-wide Ocean, encircling the Earth, every part being in connection with every other part.

A drop of water which to-day floats in southern seas may, months or years hence, have found its way by currents into the far north. A speck of ice, at this moment fast in the rigid embrace of polar berg or floe, may, months or years hence, be washing to and fro in tropical waters.

A much greater area of water than of land is found upon the Earth’s surface. So vast is the amount of the former that, if the whole had to be put into separate vessels, each vessel being one cubic mile in size, the number of such vessels required would amount to no less than three hundred and thirty-five millions. This very large order speaks for itself.

The outer Crust of our Earth, taking land and sea together, may be divided into three distinct parts. Like most such divisions in Nature, the one is often found to glide by gentle stages into another.

We have, first, Land, rising above the sea-level, and consisting of plains, undulations, hills, mountains. It covers altogether less than one-third of the Earth’s surface, and it is called The Continental Area, though Islands as well as Continents belong to it.

We have, secondly, the Ocean-floor under deeper parts of the Ocean; that which lies beyond a depth of about two miles. This division has been described as the “great submerged plain,” and it comprises about one-half of the Earth’s surface. It is known as The Abysmal Area.

We have, thirdly, a middle region, which may be spoken of as a kind of borderland under the sea, connecting the dry land with the greater ocean-depths. It amounts to about one-sixth of the Earth’s surface, and it has been named The Transitional Area.

By “connecting” the two, I do not mean that it must always be between the two. It does very generally so lie, but there are exceptions. Some deeper portions of the sea are close to land, and some parts of the Transitional Area are found far out at sea.

The meaning of the word “Continental” needs no explanation; and the very word “Abysmal” carries its own sense. More, however, will be said in future chapters about those reaches of ocean known as the “Transitional Area.”

A curious law seems to have governed the grouping of land and water. Putting aside innumerable small islands, scattered about, we find that the great mass of land clusters towards and round the north pole, with a water-and-ice-filled hollow for its centre. While, on the contrary, the greater mass of water may be said to cluster towards and round the south pole, with—so far as we can conjecture—a large extent of land for its centre. The conditions of north and south thus seem to be exactly reversed.

Not long ago it was believed that the ocean’s floor might be a fairly close imitation of that which we see on land. The differences, however, have been found to be greater than was expected. Perhaps it is not surprising, when one thinks of the immense levelling power of water.

That must be a firm make of rock which can permanently resist the effect of sea waves breaking upon or near the shore. And even deeper down, where waves are not and currents may be slow, some movement must still exist, since the ocean is nowhere quite stagnant. Such movements, no matter how gentle, would tend to shift all loose and soft substances.

The ocean-bed is held to be generally flat, though with gradual slopes here and there, leading up or down to higher or lower levels. Many submarine mountains rear their heads, sometimes near the surface, sometimes above it. In places high mountain-ridges run for a long distance below the sea, with profound depths on either side; and these again often show their peaks, forming groups of islands.

Broad reaches of the ocean are between two and three miles deep, and here and there spots are found where the sounding-line goes sheer down three miles, four miles, five miles, even six miles, before touching bottom. These greater depressions have been named “Deeps.”

At least fifteen of them are known in the Atlantic, and twenty-four in the Pacific; many of the latter lying close to islands. Some are long in shape, some short; some are broad, some narrow. One of the most profound, and almost the only one known to exceed five thousand fathoms, lies towards the south-east of the Friendly Islands. A depth there has been found five hundred and thirty feet beyond five geographical miles; and five geographical miles are equal to almost six of our common miles.

For a good while the notion was entertained that, probably, the loftiest mountain-peak on land, and the deepest depth in the ocean, would about match one another, reckoned from the sea-level. But this particular “deep” in the Pacific sinks two thousand feet lower than the topmost peak on Earth rises. Mount Everest, in the Himalayas, is twenty-nine thousand feet high; and this ocean-depth is about thirty-one thousand feet deep. Only one other equal to it has yet been discovered.

No abyss divides England from France. The “silver streak,” though sufficient for purposes of defence, is comparatively shallow. All West Europe, indeed, rises from a plateau, reaching from Norway into the Atlantic, on no part of which is the water more than six hundred feet in depth. The “transitional area” in this case makes a true stepping-stone or ledge between dry land and ocean’s abyss.

But another great plateau in the Atlantic, which may be called the “backbone” of that Ocean, is far from land, running roughly from north to south. It follows the outlines of the eastern and western shores, and rises often to within a mile and a half of the surface. On either side of the “backbone,” which seems to be largely volcanic, is a deep trough, lying north and south, and varying in depth from two to four miles. This plateau unites Europe with Iceland; and it forms a bond between the Islands of the Azores, Ascension, and Tristan D’Acunha.

If by any means the whole ocean-surface could be lowered six hundred feet, remarkable results would be seen.

At once the British Isles would cease to be Islands. They would become a part of the Continent of Europe, joined thereto by dry land. The Hebrides, the Orkneys, the Shetlands, would share in this change. The Continents of Asia and North America would be united at the Behring Straits; Ceylon would find itself a part of India; Papua and Tasmania would be one with Australia; and all places hitherto on the coasts of different countries would find themselves six hundred feet above the sea.

Such a change in the position of the British Isles, transforming them into a Continental Country, would mean far-reaching consequences to ourselves as a People. One such consequence may be briefly given in the words of a recent newspaper article: “Dry up the Atlantic to the 100-fathom line, and in six months we should bear the load of Conscription as cheerfully and more efficiently than any nation in Europe.”

Suppose that another great fall in the ocean-surface could follow. Not this time to six hundred feet, but to three thousand feet, below its present level. The resulting alterations would be still more sweeping. Not only Iceland and the Färoe Islands, but Greenland also—and not only Greenland, but the Continent of North America itself—would become one with the Continent of Europe, no longer cut off from the Old World.

A word as to measurements. Two kinds of “miles” have been mentioned. There is the ordinary “Statute mile,” used in common conversation, which is 880 fathoms, or 1,760 yards, in length. There is also the “Geographical” or “Nautical” mile—the “knot” of our Navy—which is 1,013 fathoms or 2,026 yards in length.

The difference between the two is not far from one-eighth of a statute mile. Roughly, seven miles are equal to six knots. A fathom is six feet or two yards.