HARPOONING A MONSTER
I remember another exciting adventure, which resulted in the capture of
a giant ray, weighing many hundred pounds. The wind had just gone to the
south after many days of cold northers, and, whereas it would require
several days of such wind to bring the tarpon back to a feeding humour,
this first breath from the south was sufficient to stir up a long line
of foam and slush that means food to the devil-fish. Twenty feet and
upwards across these monsters may measure, and they have been taken
weighing over 4,000 lb. In the corners of the mouth, which gapes like a
letter-box, are coiled fans that are used in waving the food into the
throat. Three of these devil-fish we saw on the day in question, coming
along and raising breakers as if they were steam-propelled rafts. With
the tips of their great wings occasionally showing, and their huge
shining black backs continually appearing above the surface, they looked
very terrible.
In full pursuit was the man with the harpoon, who had been waiting such
a chance for weeks. And now, as we can plainly see, he is close to this
moving line of flesh. Whiz goes the harpoon, hurled by a strong and
practised arm; not only the metal head, but also the shaft is deeply
buried in that three-feet slab of flesh, and the maddened monster bounds
off with lightning speed. The next moment the man changes places with
his guide, no easy proceeding in a slender 14ft. craft, but it is
necessary that he should do so, for he killed a devil-fish alone not a
month since, and the skin has not yet grown again on his raw hands. Ere
the boat has got properly under way a loose bight of rope catches the
guide round the leg, and flings him into the gunwale; there is plenty of
way on now, and a dangerous list into the bargain as the bow dips under
water. The man rushes, knife in hand, to his guide’s assistance, but the
latter succeeds with great dexterity in freeing himself from the coils,
and there is no need to cut loose.
And now the pace grows fast and furious. Eighty feet of line are out,
waves are flying from the bow, and the boat speeds so that no launch in
Florida could catch her. The great fish is close to the bottom, and
suddenly shifts its course. This manœuvre is like to cost it dear, for
it enables six
[Illustration: A HARPOONED DEVIL-FISH IN SHALLOW WATER.]
[Illustration: A HARPOONED DEVIL-FISH, WEIGHING ABOUT 2000 POUNDS, WITH
THE JAWS PROPPED OPEN.]
other boats, which had already stopped fishing, to join in the chase, to
cut off a corner and hitch on to the circling harpoon boat. A seventh
boat from the fishing grounds has failed to make connection, and, before
the day is over, others will wish they had done likewise.
On, and ever on, speeds this extraordinary procession, the like of which
was surely never seen under other circumstances, propelled by an unseen
power to an unknown destination with a force so great that it makes no
account so far of the additional strain on its resources. Some have
tried to back water as a check on the runaway, and have for their pains
been almost thrown out of the boats and had the oars torn from, their
hands. Onward they tear, the great fish keeping carefully in the deep
channel-way, and avoiding treacherous shallows on its unrestrained
course to the open sea. When the ray has thus run for five miles, it
quite suddenly doubles on its course, with the surprising and
discomforting result that the seven boats are tied in a knot. Quickly
they will have to extricate themselves, else, as it is impossible to go
full speed ahead in that formation, over they must go.
The pace gradually slackens during the next three miles, and at last all
oars are shipped and the guides back water. This is not without its
effect on the “devil,” who promptly heads again for the open sea, and
moves on until the shore is but a streak on the horizon. Anxious eyes
are now seeking for the smoke of the steamer that they hope will have
been sent to their assistance. It is two hours or more since the giant
was first harpooned, and it is tiring sufficiently to allow of its being
brought now and again to the surface to receive a Winchester bullet or
two in its spine. Its mighty wings still flap, however, and it is like
some great unwieldy water bird for ever struggling onwards. And now the
welcome smoke can just be seen in the distance, though it will take the
steamer a good hour to reach the ground, and goodness knows how many
hours to tow such a flotilla home.
Only two hours of daylight remain, and one of these is well nigh gone
ere the steamer comes along, and promptly crashes into the somewhat
erratic harpoon boat, striking her fair amidships, almost the worst
disaster of the day. Fortunately she was a nice limp boat with scarce a
sound rib in her, and she gave so freely to the sudden blow that little
fresh damage was done and she leaked but slightly more than usual. The
rest of the day’s sport, the slaying and towing ashore of the giant ray,
was a matter of time only, yet, curiously enough, when that man went
harpooning devil-fish again he went alone. The rest of the company had
somehow lost all taste for such weird recreation.