Adventures in the Red Sea (1951) - full transcript
Excellent documentary film about diving to the bottom of the Red Sea.
[MUSIC]
NARRATOR: This is a tale
of the limitless sea
and of the limitless courage
of man, challenging the secrets
the oceans have guarded
from the beginning of time.
7/10 of the globe
lie beneath water,
the last frontier
of the unknown.
According to science,
someday man breathing the air
that he takes down with him will
explore the bottom of the sea.
Our stage is the Red Sea,
that ancient narrow water
separating Egypt from Arabia.
[INAUDIBLE] our underwater
explorers, scientists,
willing to endure the
merciless tropical heat
above the surface, eager
to gamble their lives
below the surface for
one objective: to bring
to the world for the first
time motion pictures of life
and sounds from the
bottom of the sea.
Port Sudan, maritime time
capital of the Red Sea,
is the base of operations.
Here shade is at a
premium, and merchant
and artisan alike
work in the open.
Abdullah, seller of
wheat and his neighbors,
who still practice polygamy.
Ali, the weaver.
Many races and cultures live
together in picturesque medley.
All have a joyous and
childlike attitude of life,
gossiping today of the
strangers newly come.
The man who leads them,
so the chatter runs,
is a bearded magician.
He is as one touched
by Satan, for men
say he walks on the
bottom of the sea.
All eyes are focused on him,
for he brings gold to spend,
has come to charter a ship.
The city has this one
excellent outdoor cafe.
Lotte, secretary
to the expedition,
has news for her
boss, Dr. Hans Hass.
Eric, our still photographer,
is too ill to join us.
He's still down with a fever.
Please doctor, can't
I take his place?
I'm not afraid.
The doctor has asked
for a second ice cream.
The last was melted.
Ice cream, not soup
this time please.
Yes sir.
Yes sir.
Nice, firm ice cream.
I can operate a camera
and swim underwater,
both well she pleads.
Now, my dear, you know
that's out of question.
Abdul, the ship owner, and
Mahmoud, the happy go between,
rehearse their familiar
act, the gentle bargaining
with strangers who have gold.
Mahmoud collects his
commission first.
Mahmoud delivers his
client to the ship owner.
Lotte, intuitively sure of
herself, goes on her way
with Hassan the cook.
Arabian women, as all know,
are always completely covered.
Imagine a young woman
wearing trousers in public
and walking at the
side of a servant.
15 minutes have passed and the
doctor still is bargaining.
Dr. Hass likes oranges.
The way to a man's
heart, so they say,
is through the things he likes.
2,000, ridiculous!
1,200, no more.
Lotte learned her bargaining
in the hard school
of Viennese marketing.
She knows a bad egg.
Dates?
No.
The doctor prefers oranges.
And still, no deal.
Lotte heads for home.
Hassan runs interference.
OK, OK.
1600.
Mahmoud had urged
2,000, hoped for 1,800,
is delighted with 1,600.
Mahmoud leads his patron home
via the old slave quarters.
He has much to say.
Effendi, I know you saw
me take money from Abdul.
This is a custom.
Be not angered.
Do not destroy my hopes.
Let Mahmoud go with you.
Obedient but so greedy.
Master, I am but a poor man,
dependent upon the generosity
of great lords such as yourself.
My children are many.
My father is old and
his needs multiply.
And I approach the
time of life when
it is fitting I
take a third wife.
Ay, life is hard.
Expedition headquarters,
Port Sudan's finest house.
Dr. Hass is still worried.
What a time for a
key man to get sick.
Can he depend on his
secretary, a mere woman,
for camera work for
this dangerous business?
It seems that Lotte has
decided for herself.
Already she's up to
her neck in film.
She knows what she's about.
Eddie, sound technician,
sets up his equipment.
They propose to record
underwater sounds, the answer
to the question, do
fish have a language?
Assistants are Leo and Jerry.
Both are past
masters of the fish
spear and photographic helpers.
Xenophon, Greek fisherman,
master seaman, navigator.
The house man,
Marab, he got his job
through his cousin Mahmoud
who just won't get lost.
In the ritual of Allah,
he washes his feet
up the doorstep of his master.
This home now is his home.
He has adopted the doctor.
With the dawn, they
tackle their job.
[ENGINE STARTING]
Mahmoud plays captain.
Fear not, Effendi.
There be no devils in
these shallow waters,
Allah be praised.
But I, Mahmoud, nevertheless
am here to guard you.
Lotte is well trained in the
new art of flipper swimming.
She finds reward in the
fairyland vistas of the coral
reefs, understands now the lure
of this fantastic wonderland.
The water is bathtub hot,
heavily salt, strongly buoyant.
Lotte's delight is
collecting rare shellfish,
and down here are multitudes.
She finds many still unnamed
in the books of science.
The chance to study
fish in their habits
exhilarates Leo and
Jerry, and at last they
are entering this
paradise of the fish
world, this underwater
Garden of Eden.
Conventional strokes
of surface swimming
have no place in
underwater work.
The boys are evolving
techniques based
on the pollywog's
way of swimming.
The fish, completely unafraid.
In fact, friendly.
A specimen.
This may be another entry
for the books of science.
But shells are rough, and
her fingers pay the price.
On this first dive
the alert leader
plays the part of lifeguard,
although there's little danger
in these tranquil,
in shore waters.
15 years of underwater
exploration,
however, have taught Hass
the wisdom of being cautious.
Lotte goes upstairs, up to
that luminous ceiling marking
the frontier of that
other world above.
Xenophon, veteran
fisherman that he is,
accepts the specimen
with indulgent interest.
To him a shell is a shell.
Why anyone should be excited
over an offbeat oyster?
This he doesn't understand.
The program now calls for
exploration of the coast.
Hass wants to spy out the
reefs, see for himself
the lonely coral islands once
used by pirates for stronghold.
Today, only the birds survive.
Where long ago
escaped slaves hid out
there are now only wild
thicket, a turn a pair of turn,
a white heron and a
[INAUDIBLE], a nest, blue heron.
For Mahmoud, here's a
happy hunting ground.
Birds' eggs delight him.
All Sudanese dote on them.
For Xenophon also
here is delight.
The world's finest langusta,
the lobster of the Red Sea.
Half an hour later,
an eipcure's picnic.
Hot, tender crawfish,
and for the Sudanese,
gamy eggs, two weeks old.
Freshly laid, ugh.
No good.
Rich, ripe, and odorous.
Ah, wonderful.
Visitors.
Pyramid crabs, so familiar
on the hieroglyphics
of ancient Egypt.
The crabs burrow for
food as the tide recedes.
But why they pile the sand
so neatly into pyramids
is as much a puzzle
to science today
as it was to the
Egyptians of old.
Tradition says that the
architects of the pharaohs
worked out the design
of the Great Pyramids
by observing these
little workers.
Long since, the
tides of time washed
away the glory that was Egypt.
Yet still today,
nature's builders
construct their pyramids, the
riddle of the Red Sea sands.
On the way home Mahmoud
gives his version
of the pyramid puzzle.
The crabs be but
the tortured spirits
of men who worked
too hard in life, now
doomed by Allah to work forever.
Research demands much
of the doctor's time
with the microscope.
With Eddie he classifies the
coral taken from the reefs.
In infinite variety,
coral grows like plants.
These crumble.
Their debris builds
up the ocean floor.
Others resemble
intricately veined leaves,
brilliant in every
color of the spectrum.
Brain coral is like granite.
The lovely ruffled coral
also is hard, but brittle.
The amazing exception is
the poison polyp trap,
which paralyzes and
devours small fish.
All except one, the
striped polyp fish.
He is immune to the poison
and makes the polyp his refuge
and home, paying
his board by keeping
the polyp storks
clean of parasites.
Coral is limestone, shells
of tiny organisms growing
in colonies,
microscopic creatures
who build upward
from the bottom.
This reef will be a
shoreline in 50 years,
the reef beyond in 200 years.
Thus the sea builds the land.
Old markers, once used to
designate the channel entrance,
made forever useless
by the coral reefs.
Here where the
galleys of Babylon,
the merchant ships of Baghdad,
and the spice ships of India
once entered port in
safety, ramparts of coral
have grown filling the channel,
blocking commerce, and killing
the ancient port of [INAUDIBLE],
which depended upon the channel
for its life.
4,000 years ago, emperors
of China-- to trade silk
and spices for the ivory
and pearls of Africa,
and for caravan loads of goods
from Nineveh and Babylon.
Under Turkish and
Arabian rule the city
became a slave port,
bartering in the mystery
of captive Nubians.
The British broke the
power of the slavers,
but it was the coral
reefs that made forever
useless the ancient
channel markers.
For his carefully
planned program
the doctor is to make
underwater movies.
And Lotte, underwater
photographs.
Too often our explorer,
reporting his expeditions
in other [INAUDIBLE], has
met the raised eyebrow.
The cameras this time will
reproduce the incredible life
at the bottom of the sea.
The cameras are water tight.
To equalize the immense pressure
of the water in the depths,
the casing is pressurized.
The clarity of the Red Sea
had been a deciding factor
in the choice of these
waters for the expedition.
Here close to the
equator, sunlight
penetrates to depths
of 100 feet and more.
A respirator carries
oxygen for half an hour
and weighs just enough to
counterbalance body buoyancy.
To fish, man is
just another fish.
Unlike animals who have
learned how deadly man can be,
fish go about their
business without fear,
no frantic flight
as from an enemy.
Only bottom fish, accustomed
to hiding out in the reefs,
scuttle away.
Like this baby octopus running
home to mama to tell her
the terrible big
fish that chased her.
But even the doctor's
focusing stick
fails to scare off
the vast majority.
Pencil fish, on route from
one reef to another for food.
Something to write home about.
A find.
The camera records the rare
and exotically beautiful
firefish, the deadly
porcupine of the reefs.
Each quill is
tipped with poison,
and brilliant, flaming red
warns its enemies, touch me not.
Slowly the firefish
meanders along
the reef like a peacock
in all its vanity.
It's now Lotte's turn.
She comes down with her camera.
Our camera girl is looking
for just such a citizen
of the reefs as Puffle,
a perky little perch.
To Puffle a camera
means perhaps,
my picture in the paper?
But should a gentleman
be concerned about that?
Just one moment of
your time, please.
Oh, how will you have me?
Left side?
Right?
Tail?
Oh, all right, lady.
Full face.
In all her photographic work
the lady follows through,
does our own processing.
No easy task in Red Sea oven
heat where the required 68
degrees is almost impossible
to maintain in the solutions.
Always the question,
how will it come out?
A good negative.
And in the print, Puffle
to the [INAUDIBLE].
The urgent business
of the expedition
demands an answer to the
question, to what depth may
they work in safety
without the respirator?
A 75 foot underwater cliff,
a sheer drop equal to a seven
story building, has been
chosen for the test.
Leo has promised, I'll
go down, touch bottom,
and come up fresh as a daisy.
The doctor watches.
It's easy going for the
first 30 feet, but at 45 feet
pressure on the
ears is building up.
50.
60.
70.
All the way down.
At 75 feet the
pressure is terrific.
52 pounds to the square inch.
The critical point is the long
climb up, and without oxygen.
Afterwards, Leo confesses it
was those last 30 feet that
sold him on using
the respirator.
For to his dizzy
eyes, the outport
above goes into a mad world.
Hass applies the lesson
of Leo's experience,
determines now to teach
the use of the respirator
and how to conserve its precious
half hour supply of oxygen.
The oxygen is taken
through the month.
Valves control the flow.
The importance of
the nose clamp.
Uncomfortable?
Yes, but vital to safety.
At all times keep swallowing
to reduce ear pressure.
For the rest of the
lesson they must go below.
The valves control not
only the breath of life,
but the equilibrium
of the body in water.
Once again, Hass reviews
in detail instructions
on the functioning
of his invention.
The first little mistake easily
could be a last statement.
And thus, under the watchful
guardianship of her chief,
the lady descends.
[INAUDIBLE] is completely
reconciled to the respirator
have their own project.
A deep sea hunt to try out
their new submarine spear
catapults and provide
Hassan, the cook,
with the makings
for a fish stew.
Each had qualified for his
place in the expedition
through experience gained
in underwater spearfishing.
The range of their catapults
is 100 feet, but with accuracy
not guaranteed.
A grouper!
A 50 pound beauty.
Leo signals, I'll take him.
A hit!
But the harpoon fails to hold.
A moray eel, a deadly
sea weasel of the reefs,
ready to pounce from his ambush.
Jerry's after him.
His job now is to haul
the moray out of the reef.
Leo spots another grouper, even
bigger than one that got away.
Jerry gets his moray, but
holds those wicked teeth
at a respectful distance.
The big grouper too.
Sundown.
Lotte calls, come and get it!
Cooked native style, the grouper
provides a wonderful meal.
All is ready for the
expedition's first recording
of the language of the fish.
Eddie has strung his
underwater cable, ready now
to transfer to tape
the voices of the sea.
In the early war years,
United States Navy technicians
learned that fish sounds
register on hydrophones.
Eddie turns on the recorder.
[FISH SOUNDS]
Applying American
cowboy technique,
Hass now leads all hands
below for the strangest round
up on record.
Purpose?
To herd the schools of
fish over the hydrophone
so their sounds may register.
[FISH SOUNDS]
And thus is a new chapter
begun in the world's
book of knowledge.
The [INAUDIBLE].
All hands inspect the
ship that is to carry them
to the open sea, the
kingdom of the big fish.
The Sudanese captain welcomes
them and, his pockets
heavy with gold, Abdul
the broker sees them off.
The [INAUDIBLE] is 80 years old,
a lateen rigged Arab dhow with
barely enough deck space
for sound and camera gear,
but room enough for a certain
jack-in-the-box camera hound.
Leo and Jerry have
loaded their spears.
Eddie struggles with
the last of his cables.
[BELL RINGING]
[SINGING]
Two days out, and the
[INAUDIBLE] now approaches
her first objective,
[INAUDIBLE] Reef.
The dhow has proven
herself a speedy sailor,
well worth her charter price.
Aboard, the doctor types up
his work schedule and Xenophon
has the outboard ready to go.
Suffocating heat mars the
pleasant interlude of sailing.
Lotte marvels at the
energy of the boys.
They must have their daily
exercise, heat or no heat.
The Sudanese think
they're crazy.
Men who run in the sun about
to expose themselves as bait
for the killer
devils of the sea!
Allah preserve them!
For the first survey
of the reef the doctor
has determined he
must go below alone.
His rule has been that
he, as the leader,
must make an initial
reconnaissance, since his is
the responsibility
for the safety of all.
The feeding grounds of
the deep sea big fish.
The lair of the shark.
Here, the coral reefs
themselves may be death traps.
The problem is to explore the
deep foundations of the coral
cliffs, find out whether
the reefs are safe.
If the coral has
grown as do forests,
then there will always be
a way between the trees.
Hass must be sure the
reefs are not a labyrinth
with treacherous, dead
end tunnels to trap
and drown a human fish.
The explorer finds
himself a wanderer
in an awesome, magnificent
submarine cathedral.
With each turning,
he peers ahead.
Will the way be open?
The coral cathedral
has many doors.
The reef is safe for all hands.
The green light means action.
At last, all hands are
to explore the far deeps
of the Red Sea, the setting for
fearful tales by the natives.
Mahmoud jabbers
endlessly of sea devils,
jinns, ghosts of
the drowned, haunts.
This day's program calls for
the exploration of a deep valley
between parallel cliffs, whose
towering coral heads reach
almost to the surface, the
dread of all Red Sea sailors.
Hass checks Lotte's respirator,
makes sure every control is
operating correctly, and
in pantomime cautions her
to swallow repeatedly
as they go down.
The boys follow.
They are to spread as widely
as possible but still stay
within sight of each other.
Lotte is at the
head of the line.
Hass is following,
keeping her in sight.
Resting on the ocean
floor, a dim shadow.
Some ship sunk so long ago
that the crust of coral
has grown feet deep.
What had she been?
Sailing vessel or steamer?
A close look reveals the ship's
hull was of iron, not wood.
But was she propeller driven or
of the old paddle wheel type?
To the expert eye, the
structure of the deck girders
tells the story.
Here is an old time
iron ship, a paddle
wheeler, lost
probably about 1840.
The first clue is a
ventilator, definitely
of the type used on steamers.
With curiosity
born of woman, she
scans the decks for [INAUDIBLE].
Below decks, the old
[INAUDIBLE] reveals still more.
Here are no cargo
holds, no wide hatches
to accommodate large bales.
And yet the compartments are
far larger than the passenger
cabins of the old side wheelers.
They had but one use.
Prison pens for slaves.
Here they had been packed,
bound with the old Arab slave
knots, ankle to
ankle, wrist to wrist.
Lotte is trying to visualize
what must have happened
in that tragic
sinking so long ago.
The wrecked lies close to the
old trade route of the ghost
port of [INAUDIBLE],
in those days thriving
on the trans shipment
of slaves from caravans
to the ships that
plied the Red Sea.
By what mischance she struck the
reef above, no man now living
will ever know.
Perhaps some of
her crew survived.
But for the helpless
hundreds below,
there could've been no hope.
The old [INAUDIBLE]
writes its own indictment
of man's inhumanity to man
in the vanished generation
that called [INAUDIBLE] home.
The recall.
Oxygen is running low
and time is running out.
This day's job is to film the
wilder life of the Red Sea.
The big fish of these deeps
differ from in shore fish,
as do tigers from rabbits.
All of them except
the calculated risk.
Downward through
the open passages
of the base of the coral.
It is important that they know
the reefs as a place of refuge
if ever the need arise.
It is still another 40 feet
down to the lowest coral shelf.
Slowly, adjusting
valves as they go down,
they seek the hunting
grounds of the killer sharks.
The boys are already hard at it.
Jerry has a huge
tropical starfish
with 15 tentacles,
each a poison barb.
The doctor prepares for what
he considers his most important
film work, for this is
the kingdom of the shark.
Hass secures a spare harpoon
line to the coral just in case.
A school of [INAUDIBLE]
fish, primitive deep feeders
with blue lumps
and yellow teeth.
Red Sea barracuda.
Here is a hunter
ruthless as any shark,
yet the [INAUDIBLE]
show no fear.
In the daylight hours in these
bright seas, a truth reigns.
Even as on land,
antelope herds in Africa
graze quietly only
yards away from lions.
Another wolf pack of
barracuda sweep by,
harmless in daylight, yet a
vivid illustration of a prowl
for the kill if it were
now the blackness of night.
A devil fish scuttles for cover.
They keep to the
shelter of the reef,
for sharks come from
considerable distance
with lightning-like speed.
This one is 12 feet long.
Lifelong study has taught Hass
that sharks do not see well
and do not follow
their prey by scent.
Their first and all
important faculty
is a radar-like sensitivity
to underwater vibrations.
From snout to tail,
those sleek bodies
have myriads of
tiny hair antennas.
So sensitive to water vibrations
that in the absolute darkness
of pitch black night they
can run down their prey,
can tell from half a mile
off when and where a fish is
in trouble by the vibrations
set up by the erratic fin beats.
Scared?
She asked for this.
The instructions are to
harpoon a grouper as bait
to register the
actions of the shark
when he receives
vibrations set up
by the struggles of
the captive fish.
The shark circles the
bait high up on the reef.
The shark strikes,
takes the harpoon fish.
Another shark.
And still another.
Cameras make [INAUDIBLE].
A fish in trouble is always the
target for the killer shark.
Oxygen running low.
Hass signals, up.
All is in order for the
second sound investigation.
Do all fish react
like the shark?
Are they too sensitive
to vibrations?
Will sound vibrations of human
origin produce reactions?
Let's find out.
Food fish abound in this
spur of the Shab Amber reef
where the hydrophone is to play.
A trial roll is put on
the check the functioning
of the apparatus.
This test roll is jazz.
Perhaps it will get some
response from below.
[MUSIC]
It does.
Hass has prepared a
collection of familiar sounds
to be played full volume.
The vibrations should
reach far and wide.
Poor Eddie.
He did all the work of
the recording back home
and now is to miss the fun.
[SIRENS]
[GUNSHOTS]
[TRAIN]
[BELL RINGING]
[WHISTLING]
[WOMAN SCREAMING]
[HORN]
[SHELL FIRE]
Bells, sirens,
screams, shell fire.
The experiment establishes that
these sounds from the world
above mean nothing
in the deeps below.
Try music again.
Music.
Perhaps the rhythm of Johann
Strauss' "Blue Danube."
Hass long theorized regular
pulsations would affect fish.
[MUSIC- JOHANN STRAUSS, "BLUE
DANUBE"]
One camera station is
here in the outer coral,
200 yards from the hydrophone.
Behold an astounding phenomenon.
Pair by pair, they emerge from
within the reef in a honeymoon
parade, gaily swimming
toward the source
of the entrancing three
quarter beat, the hydrophone.
Pair by pair they
merge into processions.
Utterly, completely
disregarding our photographer.
Hass, standing over
the hydrophone,
had hoped for a few responses.
He finds himself the pivot
of a living wall of fish,
circling the hydrophone
in the gay, measured waltz
of the deep.
Be calm.
Lulled into inactivity,
only in the water
is there any degree of
relief from the oven heat.
So the boys play,
joining the porpoises.
It's the next morning.
Xenophon knows,
as does everyone,
that the new turban Mahmoud is
sporting is dedicated to Allah.
Wearing it, he said,
will get him a big fish.
Below, Leo prepares
to help him out.
Xenophon can hardly
contain himself
until Mahmoud's turban
is firmly hooked.
Whatever this strange fish
fooling with his hook may be,
Mahmoud is bound he'll catch it.
[LAUGHTER]
Back to old Raggedy Ann.
Drifting for the reef
close aboard to port.
The lookout's alarm is
bad news for the crew.
All hands most work.
The faithful outboard toes the
dhow toward the open water.
Again under way
with a fair breeze,
the crew argues as Eddie
checks frequencies.
Surely this be strong magic
making deep waters talk.
The hydrophone hangs suspended
in the water 50 feet down
to detect the
approach of big fish.
[SOUNDS OVER HYDROPHONE]
The frequency is pinpointed.
High in the supersonic range it
is steadily mounting in volume.
Something big coming up.
Cameras, spears.
Giant manta ray, horned
devils, the jinns so
greatly feared by the Sudanese.
With cameras and
spears at the ready,
the divers frantically seek
to film the first pictures
of the great flying bat of
the sea, the dreaded manta.
The manta attacks
by charging, using
his huge wings to
beat down his enemies.
Those wings are 20 feet across,
each a full ton in weight.
Lotte exchanges
spear for camera.
Her idea is closeups.
The manta moves his great
horns, which are lips,
like the claws of a
gargantuan lobster.
The doctor's idea is to keep
the manta from charging.
Another spear!
But Hass finds a new alarm
sounding on the dhow.
This one too is coming up.
A monstrous shark, at
least 40 feet long.
The fabled whale shark, a
spotted tiger of the sea.
Pilot fish, like destroyers
escorting a battleship.
With the contempt of an
elephant for sparrows,
the shark ignores
these humans about him.
That vast mouth easily
could swallow another Jonah.
Lotte is out of
sight of the men.
The huge shark blocks all
else from their minds.
She's after that manta,
head I'm toward it
for that one big closeup.
Too late.
She sees a second manta,
it's mate, charging.
The huge wing smashes down.
Unconscious, Lotte sinks
into the depths below.
The steady beating
of their wings
carries them swiftly away.
Replenish their oxygen and
for new film, they surface.
Now the first time
they miss Lotte.
She hasn't surfaced?
No.
Still below.
Instantly the divers
are in action.
But where to find her in
this immensity of water?
Unless they can locate
bubbles from her helmet,
there is no hope.
As his eyes scan the
coral, Hass calculates
how much oxygen
remains to Lotte.
His own laboring lungs
give the grim answer.
The oxygen in his own
respirator now nearly gone,
Lotte can have no
more, if that much.
Hass signals.
I've found her!
Never has the ascent to
the surface seemed so long.
Limp, still unconscious,
incapable of motion,
they guide her helpless
form so slowly up.
Nature of the
physician takes over.
Fresh air and rest.
Tragedy has passed them by.
Homeward bound, bringing to
the world facts new to science.
Fair sailing,
[INAUDIBLE], and a toast
to Hass and his bride to
be, and to the brave crew.
Yay to all souls of
courage who follow
in man's inevitable
conquest of that other world
beneath the seven seas.
NARRATOR: This is a tale
of the limitless sea
and of the limitless courage
of man, challenging the secrets
the oceans have guarded
from the beginning of time.
7/10 of the globe
lie beneath water,
the last frontier
of the unknown.
According to science,
someday man breathing the air
that he takes down with him will
explore the bottom of the sea.
Our stage is the Red Sea,
that ancient narrow water
separating Egypt from Arabia.
[INAUDIBLE] our underwater
explorers, scientists,
willing to endure the
merciless tropical heat
above the surface, eager
to gamble their lives
below the surface for
one objective: to bring
to the world for the first
time motion pictures of life
and sounds from the
bottom of the sea.
Port Sudan, maritime time
capital of the Red Sea,
is the base of operations.
Here shade is at a
premium, and merchant
and artisan alike
work in the open.
Abdullah, seller of
wheat and his neighbors,
who still practice polygamy.
Ali, the weaver.
Many races and cultures live
together in picturesque medley.
All have a joyous and
childlike attitude of life,
gossiping today of the
strangers newly come.
The man who leads them,
so the chatter runs,
is a bearded magician.
He is as one touched
by Satan, for men
say he walks on the
bottom of the sea.
All eyes are focused on him,
for he brings gold to spend,
has come to charter a ship.
The city has this one
excellent outdoor cafe.
Lotte, secretary
to the expedition,
has news for her
boss, Dr. Hans Hass.
Eric, our still photographer,
is too ill to join us.
He's still down with a fever.
Please doctor, can't
I take his place?
I'm not afraid.
The doctor has asked
for a second ice cream.
The last was melted.
Ice cream, not soup
this time please.
Yes sir.
Yes sir.
Nice, firm ice cream.
I can operate a camera
and swim underwater,
both well she pleads.
Now, my dear, you know
that's out of question.
Abdul, the ship owner, and
Mahmoud, the happy go between,
rehearse their familiar
act, the gentle bargaining
with strangers who have gold.
Mahmoud collects his
commission first.
Mahmoud delivers his
client to the ship owner.
Lotte, intuitively sure of
herself, goes on her way
with Hassan the cook.
Arabian women, as all know,
are always completely covered.
Imagine a young woman
wearing trousers in public
and walking at the
side of a servant.
15 minutes have passed and the
doctor still is bargaining.
Dr. Hass likes oranges.
The way to a man's
heart, so they say,
is through the things he likes.
2,000, ridiculous!
1,200, no more.
Lotte learned her bargaining
in the hard school
of Viennese marketing.
She knows a bad egg.
Dates?
No.
The doctor prefers oranges.
And still, no deal.
Lotte heads for home.
Hassan runs interference.
OK, OK.
1600.
Mahmoud had urged
2,000, hoped for 1,800,
is delighted with 1,600.
Mahmoud leads his patron home
via the old slave quarters.
He has much to say.
Effendi, I know you saw
me take money from Abdul.
This is a custom.
Be not angered.
Do not destroy my hopes.
Let Mahmoud go with you.
Obedient but so greedy.
Master, I am but a poor man,
dependent upon the generosity
of great lords such as yourself.
My children are many.
My father is old and
his needs multiply.
And I approach the
time of life when
it is fitting I
take a third wife.
Ay, life is hard.
Expedition headquarters,
Port Sudan's finest house.
Dr. Hass is still worried.
What a time for a
key man to get sick.
Can he depend on his
secretary, a mere woman,
for camera work for
this dangerous business?
It seems that Lotte has
decided for herself.
Already she's up to
her neck in film.
She knows what she's about.
Eddie, sound technician,
sets up his equipment.
They propose to record
underwater sounds, the answer
to the question, do
fish have a language?
Assistants are Leo and Jerry.
Both are past
masters of the fish
spear and photographic helpers.
Xenophon, Greek fisherman,
master seaman, navigator.
The house man,
Marab, he got his job
through his cousin Mahmoud
who just won't get lost.
In the ritual of Allah,
he washes his feet
up the doorstep of his master.
This home now is his home.
He has adopted the doctor.
With the dawn, they
tackle their job.
[ENGINE STARTING]
Mahmoud plays captain.
Fear not, Effendi.
There be no devils in
these shallow waters,
Allah be praised.
But I, Mahmoud, nevertheless
am here to guard you.
Lotte is well trained in the
new art of flipper swimming.
She finds reward in the
fairyland vistas of the coral
reefs, understands now the lure
of this fantastic wonderland.
The water is bathtub hot,
heavily salt, strongly buoyant.
Lotte's delight is
collecting rare shellfish,
and down here are multitudes.
She finds many still unnamed
in the books of science.
The chance to study
fish in their habits
exhilarates Leo and
Jerry, and at last they
are entering this
paradise of the fish
world, this underwater
Garden of Eden.
Conventional strokes
of surface swimming
have no place in
underwater work.
The boys are evolving
techniques based
on the pollywog's
way of swimming.
The fish, completely unafraid.
In fact, friendly.
A specimen.
This may be another entry
for the books of science.
But shells are rough, and
her fingers pay the price.
On this first dive
the alert leader
plays the part of lifeguard,
although there's little danger
in these tranquil,
in shore waters.
15 years of underwater
exploration,
however, have taught Hass
the wisdom of being cautious.
Lotte goes upstairs, up to
that luminous ceiling marking
the frontier of that
other world above.
Xenophon, veteran
fisherman that he is,
accepts the specimen
with indulgent interest.
To him a shell is a shell.
Why anyone should be excited
over an offbeat oyster?
This he doesn't understand.
The program now calls for
exploration of the coast.
Hass wants to spy out the
reefs, see for himself
the lonely coral islands once
used by pirates for stronghold.
Today, only the birds survive.
Where long ago
escaped slaves hid out
there are now only wild
thicket, a turn a pair of turn,
a white heron and a
[INAUDIBLE], a nest, blue heron.
For Mahmoud, here's a
happy hunting ground.
Birds' eggs delight him.
All Sudanese dote on them.
For Xenophon also
here is delight.
The world's finest langusta,
the lobster of the Red Sea.
Half an hour later,
an eipcure's picnic.
Hot, tender crawfish,
and for the Sudanese,
gamy eggs, two weeks old.
Freshly laid, ugh.
No good.
Rich, ripe, and odorous.
Ah, wonderful.
Visitors.
Pyramid crabs, so familiar
on the hieroglyphics
of ancient Egypt.
The crabs burrow for
food as the tide recedes.
But why they pile the sand
so neatly into pyramids
is as much a puzzle
to science today
as it was to the
Egyptians of old.
Tradition says that the
architects of the pharaohs
worked out the design
of the Great Pyramids
by observing these
little workers.
Long since, the
tides of time washed
away the glory that was Egypt.
Yet still today,
nature's builders
construct their pyramids, the
riddle of the Red Sea sands.
On the way home Mahmoud
gives his version
of the pyramid puzzle.
The crabs be but
the tortured spirits
of men who worked
too hard in life, now
doomed by Allah to work forever.
Research demands much
of the doctor's time
with the microscope.
With Eddie he classifies the
coral taken from the reefs.
In infinite variety,
coral grows like plants.
These crumble.
Their debris builds
up the ocean floor.
Others resemble
intricately veined leaves,
brilliant in every
color of the spectrum.
Brain coral is like granite.
The lovely ruffled coral
also is hard, but brittle.
The amazing exception is
the poison polyp trap,
which paralyzes and
devours small fish.
All except one, the
striped polyp fish.
He is immune to the poison
and makes the polyp his refuge
and home, paying
his board by keeping
the polyp storks
clean of parasites.
Coral is limestone, shells
of tiny organisms growing
in colonies,
microscopic creatures
who build upward
from the bottom.
This reef will be a
shoreline in 50 years,
the reef beyond in 200 years.
Thus the sea builds the land.
Old markers, once used to
designate the channel entrance,
made forever useless
by the coral reefs.
Here where the
galleys of Babylon,
the merchant ships of Baghdad,
and the spice ships of India
once entered port in
safety, ramparts of coral
have grown filling the channel,
blocking commerce, and killing
the ancient port of [INAUDIBLE],
which depended upon the channel
for its life.
4,000 years ago, emperors
of China-- to trade silk
and spices for the ivory
and pearls of Africa,
and for caravan loads of goods
from Nineveh and Babylon.
Under Turkish and
Arabian rule the city
became a slave port,
bartering in the mystery
of captive Nubians.
The British broke the
power of the slavers,
but it was the coral
reefs that made forever
useless the ancient
channel markers.
For his carefully
planned program
the doctor is to make
underwater movies.
And Lotte, underwater
photographs.
Too often our explorer,
reporting his expeditions
in other [INAUDIBLE], has
met the raised eyebrow.
The cameras this time will
reproduce the incredible life
at the bottom of the sea.
The cameras are water tight.
To equalize the immense pressure
of the water in the depths,
the casing is pressurized.
The clarity of the Red Sea
had been a deciding factor
in the choice of these
waters for the expedition.
Here close to the
equator, sunlight
penetrates to depths
of 100 feet and more.
A respirator carries
oxygen for half an hour
and weighs just enough to
counterbalance body buoyancy.
To fish, man is
just another fish.
Unlike animals who have
learned how deadly man can be,
fish go about their
business without fear,
no frantic flight
as from an enemy.
Only bottom fish, accustomed
to hiding out in the reefs,
scuttle away.
Like this baby octopus running
home to mama to tell her
the terrible big
fish that chased her.
But even the doctor's
focusing stick
fails to scare off
the vast majority.
Pencil fish, on route from
one reef to another for food.
Something to write home about.
A find.
The camera records the rare
and exotically beautiful
firefish, the deadly
porcupine of the reefs.
Each quill is
tipped with poison,
and brilliant, flaming red
warns its enemies, touch me not.
Slowly the firefish
meanders along
the reef like a peacock
in all its vanity.
It's now Lotte's turn.
She comes down with her camera.
Our camera girl is looking
for just such a citizen
of the reefs as Puffle,
a perky little perch.
To Puffle a camera
means perhaps,
my picture in the paper?
But should a gentleman
be concerned about that?
Just one moment of
your time, please.
Oh, how will you have me?
Left side?
Right?
Tail?
Oh, all right, lady.
Full face.
In all her photographic work
the lady follows through,
does our own processing.
No easy task in Red Sea oven
heat where the required 68
degrees is almost impossible
to maintain in the solutions.
Always the question,
how will it come out?
A good negative.
And in the print, Puffle
to the [INAUDIBLE].
The urgent business
of the expedition
demands an answer to the
question, to what depth may
they work in safety
without the respirator?
A 75 foot underwater cliff,
a sheer drop equal to a seven
story building, has been
chosen for the test.
Leo has promised, I'll
go down, touch bottom,
and come up fresh as a daisy.
The doctor watches.
It's easy going for the
first 30 feet, but at 45 feet
pressure on the
ears is building up.
50.
60.
70.
All the way down.
At 75 feet the
pressure is terrific.
52 pounds to the square inch.
The critical point is the long
climb up, and without oxygen.
Afterwards, Leo confesses it
was those last 30 feet that
sold him on using
the respirator.
For to his dizzy
eyes, the outport
above goes into a mad world.
Hass applies the lesson
of Leo's experience,
determines now to teach
the use of the respirator
and how to conserve its precious
half hour supply of oxygen.
The oxygen is taken
through the month.
Valves control the flow.
The importance of
the nose clamp.
Uncomfortable?
Yes, but vital to safety.
At all times keep swallowing
to reduce ear pressure.
For the rest of the
lesson they must go below.
The valves control not
only the breath of life,
but the equilibrium
of the body in water.
Once again, Hass reviews
in detail instructions
on the functioning
of his invention.
The first little mistake easily
could be a last statement.
And thus, under the watchful
guardianship of her chief,
the lady descends.
[INAUDIBLE] is completely
reconciled to the respirator
have their own project.
A deep sea hunt to try out
their new submarine spear
catapults and provide
Hassan, the cook,
with the makings
for a fish stew.
Each had qualified for his
place in the expedition
through experience gained
in underwater spearfishing.
The range of their catapults
is 100 feet, but with accuracy
not guaranteed.
A grouper!
A 50 pound beauty.
Leo signals, I'll take him.
A hit!
But the harpoon fails to hold.
A moray eel, a deadly
sea weasel of the reefs,
ready to pounce from his ambush.
Jerry's after him.
His job now is to haul
the moray out of the reef.
Leo spots another grouper, even
bigger than one that got away.
Jerry gets his moray, but
holds those wicked teeth
at a respectful distance.
The big grouper too.
Sundown.
Lotte calls, come and get it!
Cooked native style, the grouper
provides a wonderful meal.
All is ready for the
expedition's first recording
of the language of the fish.
Eddie has strung his
underwater cable, ready now
to transfer to tape
the voices of the sea.
In the early war years,
United States Navy technicians
learned that fish sounds
register on hydrophones.
Eddie turns on the recorder.
[FISH SOUNDS]
Applying American
cowboy technique,
Hass now leads all hands
below for the strangest round
up on record.
Purpose?
To herd the schools of
fish over the hydrophone
so their sounds may register.
[FISH SOUNDS]
And thus is a new chapter
begun in the world's
book of knowledge.
The [INAUDIBLE].
All hands inspect the
ship that is to carry them
to the open sea, the
kingdom of the big fish.
The Sudanese captain welcomes
them and, his pockets
heavy with gold, Abdul
the broker sees them off.
The [INAUDIBLE] is 80 years old,
a lateen rigged Arab dhow with
barely enough deck space
for sound and camera gear,
but room enough for a certain
jack-in-the-box camera hound.
Leo and Jerry have
loaded their spears.
Eddie struggles with
the last of his cables.
[BELL RINGING]
[SINGING]
Two days out, and the
[INAUDIBLE] now approaches
her first objective,
[INAUDIBLE] Reef.
The dhow has proven
herself a speedy sailor,
well worth her charter price.
Aboard, the doctor types up
his work schedule and Xenophon
has the outboard ready to go.
Suffocating heat mars the
pleasant interlude of sailing.
Lotte marvels at the
energy of the boys.
They must have their daily
exercise, heat or no heat.
The Sudanese think
they're crazy.
Men who run in the sun about
to expose themselves as bait
for the killer
devils of the sea!
Allah preserve them!
For the first survey
of the reef the doctor
has determined he
must go below alone.
His rule has been that
he, as the leader,
must make an initial
reconnaissance, since his is
the responsibility
for the safety of all.
The feeding grounds of
the deep sea big fish.
The lair of the shark.
Here, the coral reefs
themselves may be death traps.
The problem is to explore the
deep foundations of the coral
cliffs, find out whether
the reefs are safe.
If the coral has
grown as do forests,
then there will always be
a way between the trees.
Hass must be sure the
reefs are not a labyrinth
with treacherous, dead
end tunnels to trap
and drown a human fish.
The explorer finds
himself a wanderer
in an awesome, magnificent
submarine cathedral.
With each turning,
he peers ahead.
Will the way be open?
The coral cathedral
has many doors.
The reef is safe for all hands.
The green light means action.
At last, all hands are
to explore the far deeps
of the Red Sea, the setting for
fearful tales by the natives.
Mahmoud jabbers
endlessly of sea devils,
jinns, ghosts of
the drowned, haunts.
This day's program calls for
the exploration of a deep valley
between parallel cliffs, whose
towering coral heads reach
almost to the surface, the
dread of all Red Sea sailors.
Hass checks Lotte's respirator,
makes sure every control is
operating correctly, and
in pantomime cautions her
to swallow repeatedly
as they go down.
The boys follow.
They are to spread as widely
as possible but still stay
within sight of each other.
Lotte is at the
head of the line.
Hass is following,
keeping her in sight.
Resting on the ocean
floor, a dim shadow.
Some ship sunk so long ago
that the crust of coral
has grown feet deep.
What had she been?
Sailing vessel or steamer?
A close look reveals the ship's
hull was of iron, not wood.
But was she propeller driven or
of the old paddle wheel type?
To the expert eye, the
structure of the deck girders
tells the story.
Here is an old time
iron ship, a paddle
wheeler, lost
probably about 1840.
The first clue is a
ventilator, definitely
of the type used on steamers.
With curiosity
born of woman, she
scans the decks for [INAUDIBLE].
Below decks, the old
[INAUDIBLE] reveals still more.
Here are no cargo
holds, no wide hatches
to accommodate large bales.
And yet the compartments are
far larger than the passenger
cabins of the old side wheelers.
They had but one use.
Prison pens for slaves.
Here they had been packed,
bound with the old Arab slave
knots, ankle to
ankle, wrist to wrist.
Lotte is trying to visualize
what must have happened
in that tragic
sinking so long ago.
The wrecked lies close to the
old trade route of the ghost
port of [INAUDIBLE],
in those days thriving
on the trans shipment
of slaves from caravans
to the ships that
plied the Red Sea.
By what mischance she struck the
reef above, no man now living
will ever know.
Perhaps some of
her crew survived.
But for the helpless
hundreds below,
there could've been no hope.
The old [INAUDIBLE]
writes its own indictment
of man's inhumanity to man
in the vanished generation
that called [INAUDIBLE] home.
The recall.
Oxygen is running low
and time is running out.
This day's job is to film the
wilder life of the Red Sea.
The big fish of these deeps
differ from in shore fish,
as do tigers from rabbits.
All of them except
the calculated risk.
Downward through
the open passages
of the base of the coral.
It is important that they know
the reefs as a place of refuge
if ever the need arise.
It is still another 40 feet
down to the lowest coral shelf.
Slowly, adjusting
valves as they go down,
they seek the hunting
grounds of the killer sharks.
The boys are already hard at it.
Jerry has a huge
tropical starfish
with 15 tentacles,
each a poison barb.
The doctor prepares for what
he considers his most important
film work, for this is
the kingdom of the shark.
Hass secures a spare harpoon
line to the coral just in case.
A school of [INAUDIBLE]
fish, primitive deep feeders
with blue lumps
and yellow teeth.
Red Sea barracuda.
Here is a hunter
ruthless as any shark,
yet the [INAUDIBLE]
show no fear.
In the daylight hours in these
bright seas, a truth reigns.
Even as on land,
antelope herds in Africa
graze quietly only
yards away from lions.
Another wolf pack of
barracuda sweep by,
harmless in daylight, yet a
vivid illustration of a prowl
for the kill if it were
now the blackness of night.
A devil fish scuttles for cover.
They keep to the
shelter of the reef,
for sharks come from
considerable distance
with lightning-like speed.
This one is 12 feet long.
Lifelong study has taught Hass
that sharks do not see well
and do not follow
their prey by scent.
Their first and all
important faculty
is a radar-like sensitivity
to underwater vibrations.
From snout to tail,
those sleek bodies
have myriads of
tiny hair antennas.
So sensitive to water vibrations
that in the absolute darkness
of pitch black night they
can run down their prey,
can tell from half a mile
off when and where a fish is
in trouble by the vibrations
set up by the erratic fin beats.
Scared?
She asked for this.
The instructions are to
harpoon a grouper as bait
to register the
actions of the shark
when he receives
vibrations set up
by the struggles of
the captive fish.
The shark circles the
bait high up on the reef.
The shark strikes,
takes the harpoon fish.
Another shark.
And still another.
Cameras make [INAUDIBLE].
A fish in trouble is always the
target for the killer shark.
Oxygen running low.
Hass signals, up.
All is in order for the
second sound investigation.
Do all fish react
like the shark?
Are they too sensitive
to vibrations?
Will sound vibrations of human
origin produce reactions?
Let's find out.
Food fish abound in this
spur of the Shab Amber reef
where the hydrophone is to play.
A trial roll is put on
the check the functioning
of the apparatus.
This test roll is jazz.
Perhaps it will get some
response from below.
[MUSIC]
It does.
Hass has prepared a
collection of familiar sounds
to be played full volume.
The vibrations should
reach far and wide.
Poor Eddie.
He did all the work of
the recording back home
and now is to miss the fun.
[SIRENS]
[GUNSHOTS]
[TRAIN]
[BELL RINGING]
[WHISTLING]
[WOMAN SCREAMING]
[HORN]
[SHELL FIRE]
Bells, sirens,
screams, shell fire.
The experiment establishes that
these sounds from the world
above mean nothing
in the deeps below.
Try music again.
Music.
Perhaps the rhythm of Johann
Strauss' "Blue Danube."
Hass long theorized regular
pulsations would affect fish.
[MUSIC- JOHANN STRAUSS, "BLUE
DANUBE"]
One camera station is
here in the outer coral,
200 yards from the hydrophone.
Behold an astounding phenomenon.
Pair by pair, they emerge from
within the reef in a honeymoon
parade, gaily swimming
toward the source
of the entrancing three
quarter beat, the hydrophone.
Pair by pair they
merge into processions.
Utterly, completely
disregarding our photographer.
Hass, standing over
the hydrophone,
had hoped for a few responses.
He finds himself the pivot
of a living wall of fish,
circling the hydrophone
in the gay, measured waltz
of the deep.
Be calm.
Lulled into inactivity,
only in the water
is there any degree of
relief from the oven heat.
So the boys play,
joining the porpoises.
It's the next morning.
Xenophon knows,
as does everyone,
that the new turban Mahmoud is
sporting is dedicated to Allah.
Wearing it, he said,
will get him a big fish.
Below, Leo prepares
to help him out.
Xenophon can hardly
contain himself
until Mahmoud's turban
is firmly hooked.
Whatever this strange fish
fooling with his hook may be,
Mahmoud is bound he'll catch it.
[LAUGHTER]
Back to old Raggedy Ann.
Drifting for the reef
close aboard to port.
The lookout's alarm is
bad news for the crew.
All hands most work.
The faithful outboard toes the
dhow toward the open water.
Again under way
with a fair breeze,
the crew argues as Eddie
checks frequencies.
Surely this be strong magic
making deep waters talk.
The hydrophone hangs suspended
in the water 50 feet down
to detect the
approach of big fish.
[SOUNDS OVER HYDROPHONE]
The frequency is pinpointed.
High in the supersonic range it
is steadily mounting in volume.
Something big coming up.
Cameras, spears.
Giant manta ray, horned
devils, the jinns so
greatly feared by the Sudanese.
With cameras and
spears at the ready,
the divers frantically seek
to film the first pictures
of the great flying bat of
the sea, the dreaded manta.
The manta attacks
by charging, using
his huge wings to
beat down his enemies.
Those wings are 20 feet across,
each a full ton in weight.
Lotte exchanges
spear for camera.
Her idea is closeups.
The manta moves his great
horns, which are lips,
like the claws of a
gargantuan lobster.
The doctor's idea is to keep
the manta from charging.
Another spear!
But Hass finds a new alarm
sounding on the dhow.
This one too is coming up.
A monstrous shark, at
least 40 feet long.
The fabled whale shark, a
spotted tiger of the sea.
Pilot fish, like destroyers
escorting a battleship.
With the contempt of an
elephant for sparrows,
the shark ignores
these humans about him.
That vast mouth easily
could swallow another Jonah.
Lotte is out of
sight of the men.
The huge shark blocks all
else from their minds.
She's after that manta,
head I'm toward it
for that one big closeup.
Too late.
She sees a second manta,
it's mate, charging.
The huge wing smashes down.
Unconscious, Lotte sinks
into the depths below.
The steady beating
of their wings
carries them swiftly away.
Replenish their oxygen and
for new film, they surface.
Now the first time
they miss Lotte.
She hasn't surfaced?
No.
Still below.
Instantly the divers
are in action.
But where to find her in
this immensity of water?
Unless they can locate
bubbles from her helmet,
there is no hope.
As his eyes scan the
coral, Hass calculates
how much oxygen
remains to Lotte.
His own laboring lungs
give the grim answer.
The oxygen in his own
respirator now nearly gone,
Lotte can have no
more, if that much.
Hass signals.
I've found her!
Never has the ascent to
the surface seemed so long.
Limp, still unconscious,
incapable of motion,
they guide her helpless
form so slowly up.
Nature of the
physician takes over.
Fresh air and rest.
Tragedy has passed them by.
Homeward bound, bringing to
the world facts new to science.
Fair sailing,
[INAUDIBLE], and a toast
to Hass and his bride to
be, and to the brave crew.
Yay to all souls of
courage who follow
in man's inevitable
conquest of that other world
beneath the seven seas.