the fruit off’n the plates, an’ it’s in atween this that the little
critters git. They aint no more like a shore rat than you are. They are
all sailors, every one o’ them, an’ they stan’ their watches same as
you an’ me. You see these fellers running around here now, but there’s
a lot more below that won’t come on deck until I go below. Toby there
is in my watch, an’ I feed him. Them that aint in my watch won’t come
out till the bell strikes, an’ then they peep up, an’ if they see the
mate out they come on deck an’ look fer the grub some fellers in his
watch fetches up now an’ then.
“But what I was tellin’ was this. We took aboard a lot o’ fresh ones
down to Montego Bay, an’ among ’em was that old fat female rat ye see
there sittin’ on the edge o’ the coamin’. She’s the mother o’ half a
hundred now, but when she first come aboard she was a young an’ frisky
rat as ever you see. She’d been aboard a week or two afore I noticed
her, but on the way south again, one night when we struck into the warm
water, I noticed her come on deck with a lot more. It was just such a
night as this an’ the little skipper an’ his wife were on the bridge
a-lookin’ down at the black hole o’ the fore hatch. Soon the gal made
out the rats a-runnin’ an’ jumpin’ around the opening an’ the second
mate sat there waitin’ fer the bells to strike afore he went on watch.
“That ole rat was skippin’ away from a whole crowd o’ young rats what
was a-followin’ her around, an’ that big Toby there he was gettin’ sort
o’ interested. He was a young rat then, ye see, an’ he looked on sort
o’ solemn like fer a while an’ let ’em skip around, but I seen that he
wasn’t goin’ to stand still long. Suddenly he gave a squeak. Then the
frolickin’ stopped sudden like an’ Toby come forrads.
“Well, sir, you may not believe it, but he went straight up to that
handsome young female an’ said ‘How d’ye do’ as plain as ye please. I
don’t mean to say he spoke, but that was his action, an’ no mistakin’,
fer the pair stood nose to nose fer the space o’ half a minute. Then
they went off together to another part o’ the deck, an’ ye ought to
seen how them other young rats took it. It was comical an’ that’s a
fact. He had done the polite to that female rat an’ was gettin’ along
handsome’ an’ the gal above was laughin’ at it, while the skipper
walked athwartships an’ took no notice.
“Toby hadn’t been more’n two minutes with his fair one when up comes
a sassy-lookin’ rat, about as big as a kitten. He was lookin’ fer
trouble, that rat, fer he jest walked right up an’ lit into Toby
without waitin’ fer further orders. Sink me, if that weren’t a scrap.
Ye never would think them little critters would take on so. A pair o’
bulldogs warn’t in it with them rats, an’ the rest all crowded around,
comin’ up slowly, an’ lookin’ to see which one would do fer the other.
“Well, sir, the second mate sat still lookin’ on, an’ the gal was
lookin’ down from above over the bridge rail. The night was bright
enough fer to see things pretty well on deck, an’ the gal’s eyes showed
interest. It was the same old story, the choosin’ o’ the hero, only
they was rats, an’ there wasn’t no doubt that we wanted the best one to
win: him that was the biggest an’ strongest an’ best-lookin’.
“It’s been a long time ago now, but ye would think that ole rat would
still have the marks o’ that fight on him, an’ mebbe he has. They
grabbed at each other with them long teeth, an’ I tell you they made
the fur fly fer a few minutes. The sassy big rat made a pass an’
grabbed Toby by the leg, an’ sech a squealin’ ye never heard. But that
female rat sat quiet, an’ jest kept lookin’ on, waitin’ fer the finish.
Toby saw he was in a bad fix. He was gettin’ the worst o’ the fight,
fer that rat had him fast enough by the hind leg. It was up an’ down
an’ all over the deck forrads, the old fellow squealin’ an’ bitin’, an’
that sassy-lookin’ rat jest holdin’ on fer further orders. It looked
blue fer Toby an’ he seen somethin’ must be done sudden if he wanted
that fine female rat fer a side pardner down in the bilge. He stopped
his squealin’ an’ was quiet fer a minute, thinkin’ an’ tryin’ to plan
out some kind o’ game fer to git away an’ get his grip on that sassy
rat that was slowly sawin’ his leg off. All to onct he give a jerk.
Then he bent his body double an’ rolled on his back like a ball. That
brought his enemy up alongside him an’ the next minute he was fast to
him amidships, gettin’ a good grip o’ the feller’s belly.
“I tell you he must have pinched right hard. That sassy-lookin’ rat
couldn’t stand the bite, an’ let go the leg grip he had, squealin’ an’
twistin’ to get away. But no sirree. Old Toby had him fer sure this
time, an’ he jest settled right down to business, shakin’ an’ pullin’,
fer there aint nothin’ a rat kin stand less than a good shakin’. Pretty
soon the feller began to give up an’ try to get away, squealin’ a
different sort o’ squeal from the sassy squeal he began with.
“Then Toby goes fer him harder than ever, but jest as he was tryin’ to
get a new hold, the fellow up an’ bolts fer the open hatchway, an’ the
fight was over. Then all hands scrambled below, an’ Toby walks right
up to the fine female rat what was waitin’ fer him an’ they goes off
together. Then the gal on the bridge laughs right out an’ says ‘Bully
boy,’ an’ the second mate looks up an’ sees the look in her eyes,
an’--well, I dunno, after that they used to come together somehow until
the skipper speaks up one day an’ asks the second mate his business.
“‘Ye seem to have too much to do,’ says he one evenin’ to the second
mate, ‘an’ if I was you I’d keep more by meself, or mebbe I’ll take ye
in hand a bit.’
“That second mate was thinkin’ o’ them rats, an’ speaks up: ‘You kin
try yer hand when we gets in port. I’m an officer here an’ can’t get no
show, but on the beach I’ll take yer skin or I’m a soger,’ says he.
“An’ so the captain was too proud to take advantage o’ his position,
an’ waits until the vessel was in at Port Antonio. Then he steps ashore
an’ tells the second mate to follow him an’ take a lickin’.
“Well, sir, there aint no use tellin’ how that fight come off. It took
three hours to put that dinky little skipper temporarily to sleep, an’
the fellers what seen the scrap tells a thing or two about it,--but
they was only niggers an’ didn’t count. Anyways, the second mate
was as well pounded as a beefsteak, but he was a hero, an’ that’s a
fact. He was a pretty good sort o’ man, an’ some says he was fairly
good-lookin’. Anyways, he was way ahead in looks o’ that dinky little
skipper, an’ the gal, I believe, thought so too. Yessir, it ware the
same ole story o’ choosin’ the hero over again, jest like it takes
place in story books--only a bit different, fer the gal was already
married in this case, an’ sech doin’s never is printed except in
papers. But that second mate, he ware the hero jest the same.
“When the _Spitfire_ went to sea again there was a mighty quiet sort o’
skipper aboard, an’ a second mate who was a-lookin’ out fer squalls.
There was evidently goin’ to be a change aboard at the end of the
passage. But all the time that gal she jest kept to herself, an’ by the
look o’ her eyes she ware tellin’ the second mate plainer ’n mud that
he ware the man fer her. The dinky little skipper could see it too.
“The night she went to sea the second mate was sittin’ on the edge o’
the hatchway here as usual when it come on eight bells, an’ he seen
all that new load o’ rats a-gettin’ ashore fast. It aint no good sign
to see rats gettin’ out o’ a ship. They generally leave afore she goes
down, an’ when the second mate seen them a-goin’ ashore he was fer
followin’ them. Then he thinks o’ that gal again an’ stays, fer you may
not believe it, but ole Toby, there, an’ his mate wouldn’t go ashore.
They stays on deck at the last minute when the second officer was
gettin’ ready to clear an’ when he seen it he says he’d stay too. It
sort o’ put him in mind o’ hisself.
“It began to come on to blow the day after we passed Cape Maysi. Ye
know how it is in the windward passage, so it didn’t bother us much.
But along about dark the glass began to drop sudden like, until it got
down about three marks below where it ought to stayed. The air was
warm an’ sultry comin’ hot from the s’uthard. The haze what comes with
the hurricane was raisin’ plain in sight, an’ the dinky little skipper
puts her head to the east’ard to clear the center, fer it ware jest in
our wake.
“I seen it blow before, but sink me if ever it blew anywhere’s like
that. The sea ware jest a roarin’ hill leapin’ up with a cross heave
in it, an’ the air was like a solid wall when it struck. No, sir, ye
couldn’t stand on the bridge. It would have picked ye up bodily an’
hove ye overboard. The roar ware deafenin’, an’ we hove her to on the
starboard tack to work clear, an’ jest then, by some luck or other,
she waded right into the center o’ that whirl where the seas ware jest
standin’ right up on end.
“Ye can’t do nothin’ with a ship caught in the center of one o’ them
circular storms. It blows in sech squalls that there aint no way
a tellin’ which way it’s comin’, only it comes with sech a mighty
weight that no ship kin stan’ to it. An’ the sea falls down on ye from
anywhere at all till the decks are under tons o’ water, an’ everythin’
gone to the devil stove up.
“The _Spitfire_ ware knocked over in one o’ the rushes o’ hot wind
that ripped the funnel out o’ her. Then an almighty sea broke right
amidships an’ tore the side o’ the house away an’ flooded the engine
room. It ware lookin’ kind o’ bad fer us, an’ when the engineer come
on deck half drowned, an’ said the engine ware done fer an’ the water
a-comin’ in about two feet at a jump, we made up our minds the ole ship
ware done fer, an’ the best thing ware to get clear as soon as we could.
“But no small boat could have lived in that sea a minute. There wasn’t
anything to do but wait until the gale wore down, which it did after
about three hours of the heaviest blowin’ I ever seen. Then she eased
up an’ the ole ship was jest decks out in a sea what would make yer
hair white to look at.
“We made a lee o’ the side an’ lowered down the boats before daybreak,
that dinky little skipper jest a-standin’ an’ lookin’ on an’ never
a-sayin’ a word.
“The first officer he takes the first boat what swings clear, an’ then
the gal she looks down at the second mate. He puts her in the next
boat an’ they lower it down an’ they scramble to get in, fer the ship
is wallowin’ in that nasty sea an’ feels dead. Some fool fumbles the
tackle an’ nearly capsized the craft, but the second mate he grabs
the line in time to save it an’ she goes clear. The men rush to find
places, an’ then the second mate stan’s there alone with that dinky
little skipper, who hasn’t spoken or moved from the chart-house door.
“It’s all mighty plain. The fellers from below, white with scare an’
tremblin’ as they grab the ship’s sides. Some pushes the others an’
then they curse and swear to kill each other when there aint enough
breath in them to speak out loud.
“‘Be ye a-goin’ in that boat, sir?’ says the second mate to his
captain.
“‘Go an’ be d----d,’ says the dinky little skipper.
“An’ the second officer jumps in an’ the painter is cast off. Then the
little skipper stan’s out an’ watches them slowly go away--watches them
drawin’ off further an’ further, an’ his eyes is on the gal in the
boat, an’ his hands is folded on his breast. That’s the last they sees
o’ him as he stands there with the risin’ sun a-shinin’ on him an’ the
blue sea washin’ nigh up to the ole hooker’s deck.
“Fer seven days an’ nights the fellers in that boat has a time with it.
Then there comes a ship bound in an’ takes ’em aboard, an’ in a few
days they finds themselves in New York, the second mate an’ the gal
hardly speakin’.
“When they comes ashore the first man the gal sees is that dinky little
skipper a-waitin’ there on the dock, jest as natural an’ chipper as if
he wasn’t the ugliest skipper ever in a decent ship. An’ funniest of
all she jest naturally goes an’ flings herself at him like a dolphin
at a bait, landin’ right in his arms. Fer, ye see, that old hooker
_Spitfire_ warn’t so badly used up as the engineer thought, an’ when
the sea went down she didn’t make no more water to speak of. The next
mornin’ a vessel comes along an’ lends a hand to the dinky little
feller aboard, an’ pretty soon the engine is a-goin’ an’ the ole ship
is headin’ away on her course with one o’ the company’s ships alongside
to see her through. There aint no salvage to pay, an’ all is taut as a
gantline.”
Here Mr. Keon stopped and knocked the ashes from his pipe. The great
rat he called Toby scampered down the hatchway as the bells struck off,
warning us that the first watch was at hand.
“What became of the little captain?” asked the bos’n.
“Oh, that little feller got the finest ship in the company’s fleet.
He’s commodore now, ye see,” said the second mate, “an’ we got ‘Peepin’
Shaw’ in his place.”
“Did they discharge the officers that deserted?” asked a sailor.
Mr. Keon looked sorrowfully at him and rose from the hatchway. Then he
stopped a moment and fumbled his pipe.
“D’ye think second officers sech as me are plentiful abouts, hey?” he
asked.
He was a powerfully built man and showed to some advantage in his
working clothes of light duck.
“Second mates sech as me aint to be picked up everywhere, ye might
know, an’ this ship has never had but one since she was launched,” and
he went on the bridge for his watch on deck.
[Illustration: JOHNNY SHARK]
In the middle of the South Atlantic Ocean, about six hundred miles to
the eastward of Cape St. Roque, rises the peculiar peak called the St.
Paul’s Rock. It is some sixty feet above the sea level, and is a ragged
granite point. Within a cable’s length of it the bottom apparently
falls out of the ocean, for it takes nearly three miles of piano wire
with an enormous deep-sea lead attached to find the half-liquid ooze
below. If the blue water were suddenly to subside the tiny point of the
St. Paul’s would present a different appearance. It would then be the
highest pinnacle of a most colossal mountain.
It is on the edge of the calm belt, close to the equator, and the blue
depths surrounding its huge flanks are seldom, if ever, disturbed by a
storm. Only the steady trade swell rolling gently in upon its sides
forms a white ring about it, and the dull roar of the southern ocean
is but a low monotonous thunder that would hardly frighten the timid
flying fish.
Besides this there is nothing save the occasional snore of a sea
breaking over a submerged peak to disturb the silence; for here
desolation and loneliness reign supreme. It is as though a bit of the
Great Silence of the ocean bed were raised up to be burned in the glare
of the torrid sunshine, and fanned by the breath of the unending trade
wind.
But, if the peak is devoid of life, a look into the beautiful blue
abyss alongside shows a different state. All kinds of shell-fish
inhabit the hospitable caverns beneath, and fish can be seen darting
here and there through the bunches of seaweed. The busy coral works
steadfastly at his never-ending toil. The sea-crabs, star-fish, and
their myriad brethren are all visible.
Sometimes a couple of albicore will dart past below the surface, or
a flash of white reveal the quick strike of a dolphin, followed
instantly by a shower of glittering gems that break from the surface
and scatter,--the flying fish that have escaped those rapid jaws.
Then a huge dark shadow will rise slowly out of the blue invisibility
below, and all the smaller fish will disappear. The shadow will take
form, and will be that of an old shark lazily policing the rocks for
pieces of the game that are deserted. He is a large brute, but in spite
of his enormous fins and tail he is quite willing that others shall do
his work of the chase for him.
If there happens to be an injured fish near, the great tail will give
one or two powerful strokes, and chop! Those jaws, armed with half a
dozen rows of sawlike teeth, with the points of those above fitting
into the spaces between those below, seldom have to strike twice.
The first motion upon the part of the monster is a signal which
produces a strange effect. No sooner has he bolted the game than from
all around rise dark-brown and gray shadows. These congregate about
him, and he lazily swims away, leaving probably half a hundred of his
relations to search the clear depths for what might be left.
And such relatives! One has a head half a fathom wide, his eyes peering
wickedly from the curving sides of his shovel-like nose. Another has
stripes like those of the tiger on land, and is hardly less ugly
in disposition. Let the old fellow who first tackled the game get
a slit in his hide and the striped fellow see it. He will find his
affectionate relative’s knowledge of the fact announced by a sudden
chop. Then there will be a general mix-up, and if he is still active
and strong enough he may live to dine upon the unsympathetic cousin.
But more than likely the cousin will be re-enforced by a host of
hungry comrades, whose ideas of fair play are somewhat biased by an
uncontrollable appetite for anything nutritious. If this is the case he
will apparently melt into that beautiful blue void about him, leaving
but a slight stain which will soon disappear. It was here in these
abodes of the genus carcharodon that our hero was born.
He was one of a school of six when he first saw the light, and his five
brothers and sisters were so like him that the great mother shark could
hardly tell them apart. When she opened her enormous mouth one day to
receive them and give them shelter while a desperate sword-fish swung
his weapon in her face, she made a miscount when shutting her jaws, and
one belated little fellow was quickly swallowed by the insolent enemy.
The mother made a dash and chopped off a piece of the sword-fish’s tail
as he fled before her wrath, but he escaped in spite of this.
During his babyhood Johnny Shark had many trials. There were the
hideous little pilot fish to deal with. They were always following him
around trying to rob him of his rights. Then his brothers also lacked
in unselfishness, and he fought them, one and all, from the beginning,
until his disposition became somewhat combative.
During this period of his life his skin was of a most beautiful
velvety gray, shading to white on his belly. His hard bony lips formed
a sheath for his cutters, and they fitted in behind them as snug as a
sword in a scabbard. They were very small, but the same shape as his
mother’s triangles, and he could work them on their bases as though
hinged in his jaws. He was but little more than a foot in length, and
he kept close to his mother’s side, ready to shelter should a fierce
albicore or any of the giant mackerel tribe take a notion that he would
make a good meal.
And yet he could venture deep in the shadow of the mountain defiles,
where in some of the huge caverns gigantic, many-armed monsters, with
huge beaks and eyes a foot in diameter, lay waiting, seizing whatever
unfortunate fish happened within the sweep of their snaky tentacles.
In fact all around him was an eternal war. Everything seemed to be
fighting with everything else and only the luckiest and most powerful
beings seemed to last many changes of the moon.
As for his brothers and sisters they were like himself, keeping close
to his mother, and ready for a refuge within her huge jaws at the first
sign of an approaching enemy.
As he grew slowly he began to develop a wandering spirit. He would
leave the protecting shadow of his mother when she would float lazily
upon the surface, and explore the ragged fringe of foam to see what
might be had in the way of diversion. Once a great bonita made a dash
at him, but he saw him coming in time, and turning he chopped him
savagely. The taste of blood seemed to invigorate him, for he hung
fiercely upon his now fleeing enemy until he tore away, leaving a
mouthful of himself in the tightly locked jaws. He was too lazy to
follow up his victory. A fat porpoise chased his wounded assailant
until he conquered him and made him his meal.
In fact, he seldom cared for violent exercise, and could hardly
understand the foolish savagery of some of the warmer-blooded denizens
about him. When he fought he generally made a sure thing of it. He
would take no chances where a wound or exhaustion meant certain death.
There were plenty of small rockfish that were too stupid to run when he
approached, and he could always get enough of them without playing the
game of death for the pleasure of it.
Once a school of giants came to the Rocks, and he lay in the shadow
of a crag wondering at their size. They were sperm whales, and their
leader was an enormous old fellow whose fat sides were studded with
barnacles. These seemed to trouble him, and he would roll slowly up to
a peak near the surface where the sunlight filtered down through the
blue, and rub his belly for hours at a time, scraping off thousands of
the parasites. Then the stupid little fishes would dart out from their
hiding places to catch them, and he would dash among them before they
could get back again. While the monsters lay near the Rocks a very
long and thin relative of Johnny’s mother paid them a visit. His tail
was enormous, and it was evident he was fast. He seemed to have some
business with his parent, for soon afterwards she followed him off to
sea where one of the whales lay sleeping with the water breaking gently
over her back.
When they were close to her they made a sudden dash, the lean shark
leaping high in air and falling with a tremendous whack upon the
sleeping victim, while his mother chopped her savagely in the sides. It
was all so sudden he hardly had time to get away, for in an instant the
sleeping whale awoke and tore the sea into foam with her flukes.
His mother, however, heeded the outfly but little and held gamely on.
The whale tried to turn and seize her in the long thin jaw that was
studded with enormous teeth, but nothing could dislodge the grip of
her triangles. And all the time the thin fellow in company would throw
himself in the air and smash the whale terrific blows with his lean
tail.
The noise must have been an uproar, for in a very few minutes the great
leader who had been rubbing his belly came plunging through the water
towards them, leaving a great path of white foam to mark his course.
Then the whale sounded, carrying his mother out of sight below. Instead
of following, the thresher shark dodged the great bull leader and made
off, leaving the mother shark to get away as best she could.
She came up with the whale half a mile away, and then finding herself
deserted she let go and started to make off. As she did so she
encountered the big bull coming after her. She ducked from his bite,
but he smote her such a blow with his flukes as she dodged past that
she was hardly able to escape.
The next day she grew weaker, and a sword-fish, seeing her, gave her a
final taste of his weapon, and began to chop her up. Instead of driving
him away, several other sharks, that now appeared, openly joined him in
accomplishing her destruction, and soon she disappeared entirely.
With no protection save his own teeth, the little shark now went
his way among the peaks. Deep down in the blue abyss he would sink
until the terrible pressure would force him up again to the world of
sunlight. Sometimes he would stay for hours a mile or more down in
caverns and caves of the mountain side, guided alone by the sense of
smell and that delicate sense of feeling peculiar to his kind. Each and
every motion of the sea caused a vibration that instinct explained.
Once a huge arm reached out from a hiding place and circled him within
its embrace, but before it could draw him in he had chopped it in two,
and leisurely ate what remained as he swam on.
He was growing strong now, and his triangular teeth developed saw
edges, making the most perfect cutting machines possible to devise. His
skin was tough and coarse, a bony substance forming upon it that made
it almost tooth-proof to ordinary fish.
He developed a roving disposition, and the vicinity of the great
mountain became too well known. He started off to the westward where
the sun seemed to sink in a deep golden-red ocean, and he cruised along
near the surface, his dorsal fin and tip of tail just awash.
Out upon the lonely ocean he quickened his movement. There was nothing,
nothing but the never-ending sea ahead, with the soft murmur of the
trade wind turning the glistening surface a darker blue, while from
miles and miles away to windward came the low song of the South Sea.
On and on he went until hunger made him look about for a victim. He
was not particular as to who or what this creature might be, for his
own powers produced an apathy of fear for all dangerous denizens of
the deep. He was changing now, and no longer shunned a conflict with
anything that formerly might have wounded his soft sides.