AQUATIC SPORTS.
One day, after we had lost the north-east Trade wind, a furious
squall, unperceived till it reached us, swept through the fleet. These
violent tornadoes are generally called white squalls, from being
unattended by those black heavy rain clouds. On the occasion of
ordinary squalls, even with the advantage of the warning given by
rising clouds, it is not always easy to escape their force unhurt. If
the wind be fair, a natural reluctance is felt to shorten sail, at all
events, until the squall is so near that there is an absolute
necessity for doing so, and inexperienced officers are often deceived
by the unexpected velocity with which the gust comes down upon them.
Even the oldest sailors are apt to miscalculate the time likely to
elapse before the wind can touch them. In these cases, unless the men
be very active, the sails are torn, and sometimes a mast or a yard is
carried away. It is, besides, often doubtful whether there is wind or
merely a plump of rain in the squall; there are, therefore, few points
of distinction more remarkable between the seamanship of an old and a
young officer, than their power of judging of this matter. To a man
quite inexperienced, a squall may look in the highest degree
threatening; he will order the top-gallant clew-lines to be manned,
place hands by the topsail haulyards, and lay along the main
clew-garnets. His more experienced captain, however, being apprised of
the squall's approach, steps on deck, takes a hasty look to windward,
and says quietly to the officer of the watch, "Never mind, there's
nothing in it, it's only rain; keep the sails on her."
But although the older authority nine times in ten proves correct in
his judgment, even he might find it difficult, if not impossible, to
tell exactly upon what his confidence rested. Sailors boast, indeed,
of having an infallible test by which the point in question may be
ascertained, their secret being clothed in the following rhymes so to
call them:--
"If the rain's before the wind,
'Tis time to take the topsails in;
If the wind's before the rain,
Hoist your topsails up again."
The practical knowledge alluded to, however, comes not by rhymes, but
by experience alone, with a kind of intuitive confidence. Many long
and hard years of study, and myriads of forgotten trials must have
been gone through to give this enviable knowledge.
No experience, however, can altogether guard against these sudden
gusts or white squalls, since they make no show, except, sometimes, by
a rippling of the water along which they are sweeping. On the occasion
above alluded to there was not even this faint warning. The first
ships of the convoy touched by the blast were laid over almost on
their beam-ends, but in the next instant righted again, on the whole
of their sails being blown clean out of the bolt-ropes. The Theban
frigate and the Volage, then lying nearly in the centre of the fleet,
were the only ships which saved an inch of canvas, owing chiefly to
our having so many more hands on board, but partly to our having
caught sight of the ruin brought on the vessels near us, just in time
to let fly the sheets and haulyards and get the yards down. But even
then, with the utmost exertion of every man and boy on board, we
barely succeeded in clewing all up.
When this hurricane of a moment had passed, and we had time to look
round, not a rag was to be seen in the whole fleet; while the Wexford,
a ship near us, had lost her three top-gallant masts and jib-boom,
and, what was a much more serious misfortune, her fore-topmast was
dangling over the bows. Part of the fore-topsail was wrapped like a
shawl round the lee cat-head, while the rest hung down in festoons
from the collar of the fore-stay to the spritsail yard-arm. A stout
party of seamen from each of the men-of-war were sent to assist in
clearing the wreck, and getting up fresh spars; and a light fair wind
having succeeded to the calm in which we had been lolling about for
many days, we took our wounded bird in tow, and made all sail towards
the equator. By this time, also, the China ships had bent a new set of
sails, and were resuming their old stations in the appointed order of
bearing, which it was our policy to keep up strictly, together with as
many other of the formalities of a fleet in line of battle and on a
cruise as we could possibly maintain.
While we were thus stealing along pleasantly enough under the genial
influence of this newly-found air, which as yet was confined to the
upper sails, and every one was looking open-mouthed to the eastward to
catch a gulp of cool air, or was congratulating his neighbour on
getting rid of the tiresome calm in which we had been so long
half-roasted, half-suffocated, about a dozen flying-fish rose out of
the water, just under the fore-chains, and skimmed away to windward at
the height of ten or twelve feet above the surface. But sometimes the
flying-fish merely skims the surface, so as to touch the tops of the
successive waves, without rising and falling to follow the undulations
of the sea; that they also rise as high as twenty feet out of the
water is certain, being sometimes found in the channels of a
line-of-battle ship; and they frequently fly into a 74 gun-ship's
main-deck ports. On a frigate's forecastle and gangways, also
elevations which may be taken at eighteen or twenty feet, they are
often found. I remember seeing one, about nine inches in length, and
weighing not less, I should suppose, than half-a-pound, skim into the
Volage's main-deck port just abreast of the gangway. One of the
main-topmen was coming up the quarter-deck ladder at the moment, when
the flying-fish, entering the port, struck the astonished mariner on
the temple, knocked him off the step, and very nearly laid him
sprawling.
I was once in a prize, a low Spanish schooner, not above two feet and
a-half out of the water, when we used to pick up flying-fish enough
about the decks in the morning to give us a capital breakfast. They
are not unlike whitings to the taste, though rather firmer, and very
dry. They form, I am told, a considerable article of food for the
negroes in the harbours of the West Indies. The method of catching
them at night is thus described:--In the middle of the canoe a light
is placed on the top of a pole, towards which object it is believed
these fish always dart, while on both sides of the canoe a net is
spread to a considerable distance, supported by out-riggers above the
surface of the water; the fish dash at the light, pass it, and fall
into the net on the other side.
Shortly after observing the cluster of flying-fish rise out of the
water, we discovered two or three dolphins ranging past the ship, in
all their beauty, and watched with some anxiety to see one of those
aquatic chases of which our friends of the Indiamen had been telling
us such wonderful stories. We had not long to wait; for the ship, in
her progress through the water, soon put up another shoal of these
little things, which, as the others had done, took their flight
directly to windward. A large dolphin, which had been keeping company
with us abreast of the weather gangway at the depth of two or three
fathoms, and, as usual, glistening most beautifully in the sun, no
sooner detected our poor dear little friends take wing, than he turned
his head towards them, and, darting to the surface, leaped from the
water with a velocity little short, as it seemed, of a cannon-ball.
But although the impetus with which he shot himself into the air gave
him an initial velocity greatly exceeding that of the flying-fish, the
start which his fated prey had got enabled them to keep ahead of him
for a considerable time.
The length of the dolphin's first spring could not be less than ten
yards; and after he fell we could see him gliding like lightning
through the water for a moment, when he again rose, and shot forwards
with considerably greater velocity than at first, and, of course, to a
still greater distance. In this manner the merciless pursuer seemed to
stride along the sea with fearful rapidity, while his brilliant coat
sparkled and flashed in the sun quite splendidly. As he fell headlong
on the water at the end of each huge leap, a series of circles were
sent far over the still surface, which lay as smooth as a mirror; for
the breeze, although enough to keep the royals and top-gallant
studding sails extended, was hardly as yet felt below.
The group of wretched flying-fish, thus hotly pursued, at length
dropped into the sea; but we were rejoiced to observe that they merely
touched the top of the swell, and scarcely sunk in it, at least they
instantly set off again in a fresh and even more vigorous flight. It
was particularly interesting to observe that the direction they now
took was quite different from the one in which they had set out,
implying but too obviously that they had detected their fierce enemy,
who was following them with giant steps along the waves, and now
gaining rapidly upon them. His terrific pace, indeed, was two or three
times as swift as theirs, poor little things! and the greedy dolphin
was fully as quick-sighted as the flying-fish which were trying to
elude him; for whenever they varied their flight in the smallest
degree, he lost not the tenth part of a second in shaping a new
course, so as to cut off the chase; while they, in a manner really not
unlike that of the hare, doubled more than once upon their pursuer.
But it was soon too plainly to be seen that the strength and
confidence of the flying-fish were fast ebbing. Their flights became
shorter and shorter, and their course more fluttering and uncertain,
while the enormous leaps of the dolphin appeared to grow only more
vigorous at each bound. Eventually, indeed, we could see, or fancied
we could see, that this skilful sea sportsman arranged all his springs
with such an assurance of success, that he contrived to fall, at the
end of each, just under the very spot on which the exhausted
flying-fish were about to drop! Sometimes this catastrophe took place
at too great a distance for us to see from the deck exactly what
happened; but on our mounting high into the rigging, we may be said to
have been in at the death; for then we could discover that the
unfortunate little creatures, one after another, either popped right
into the dolphin's jaws as they lighted on the water, or were snapped
up instantly afterwards.
It was impossible not to take an active part with our pretty little
friends of the weaker side, and accordingly we very speedily had our
revenge. The middies and the sailors, delighted with the chance,
rigged out a dozen or twenty lines from the jib-boom end, and
spritsail yard-arms, with hooks baited merely with bits of tin, the
glitter of which resembles so much that of the body and wings of the
flying-fish, that many a proud dolphin, making sure of a delicious
morsel, leaped in rapture at the deceitful prize.
It may be well to mention that the dolphin of sailors is not the fish
so called by the ancient poets. Ours, which I learn from the
Encyclopædia, is the _Coryphoena hippurus_ of naturalists, is
totally different from their _Delphinus phocoena_, termed by us the
porpoise, respecting which there exists a popular belief amongst
seamen that the wind may be expected from the quarter to which a shoal
of porpoises are observed to steer. So far, however, from our
respecting the speculations of these submarine philosophers, every art
is used to drag them out of their native element, and to pass them
through the fire to the insatiable Molochs of the lower decks and
cockpits of his Majesty's ships, a race amongst whom the constant
supply of the best provisions appears to produce only an increase of
appetite.
One harpoon, at least, is always kept in readiness for action in the
fore part of the ship. The sharpest and strongest of these deadly
weapons is generally stopped or fastened to the fore-tack bumpkin, a
spar some ten or twelve feet long, projecting from the bows of a ship
on each side like the horns of a snail, to which the tack or lower
corner of the foresail is drawn down when the ship is on a wind. This
spar, which affords good footing, not being raised many feet above the
water, while it is clear of the bow, and very nearly over the spot
where the porpoises glide past, when shooting across the ship's
forefoot, is eagerly occupied by the most active and expert harpooner
on board, as soon as the report has been spread that a shoal, or, as
the sailors call it, a "school" of porpoises, are round the ship.
There is another favourite station which is speedily filled on these
occasions; I mean, alongside of the slight-looking apparatus
projecting perpendicularly downwards from the end of the bowsprit.
This spar is not inaptly called the dolphin-striker, from its
appearing to dash into the waves as the ship pitches; perhaps it may
have acquired its name on account of its being so capital a position
from which to strike that fish. The lower end of the spar is connected
with the outer end of the jib-boom, by means of a stout rope, which,
after passing through its extremity, extends to the ship; and it is
upon this guy that the fortunate wielder of the harpoon fixes himself.
The harpoon is a triangular, or rather a heart-shaped barbed weapon,
somewhat larger than a man's head, and in the centre about as thick as
his knuckles. Its point and edges are made of iron so soft that they
can easily be brought to a rough edge by means of a file. This
javelin-head, or, as it is technically called by whalers, the "mouth,"
is connected by a slender arm or shank, terminating in a socket. The
barbed head or mouth is eight inches long, and six broad; the shank,
with its socket, two feet and a-half long. The shank is not quite half
an inch in diameter; and as this part is liable to be forcibly
extended, twisted, and bent, it requires to be made of the toughest
and most pliable iron.
A piece of small, but stout line, called, I think, the foreganger, is
spliced securely to the shank of the harpoon. To the end of this line
is attached any small rope that lies handiest on the forecastle,
probably the top-gallant clew-line, or the jib down-haul. The rope,
before being made fast to the foreganger, is rove through a block
attached to some part of the bowsprit, or to the foremost swifter of
the fore-rigging; a gang of hands are always ready to take hold of the
end, and run the fish right out of the water when pierced by the iron.
The harpooner has nothing to attend to but the mere act of striking
his object; and there are few exploits in which the dexterity of one
person is more conspicuous over that of another than in delivering the
harpoon. I have heard Captain Scoresby say, that, when a whale is
struck, it is an object of importance to drive the weapon socket-deep
into the blubber, or outer rind, of the floating monster; but in the
case of the porpoise the true point of skill appears to lie in the aim
alone: for the mere weight of the instrument, with its loaded staff,
is sufficient to lodge the barbs in the body of the fish, and in many
cases to carry it right through to the other side.
The strength of the porpoise must be very great, for I have seen him
twist a whale harpoon several times round, and eventually tear himself
off by main force. On this account, it is of consequence to get the
floundering gentleman on board with the least possible delay after the
fish is struck. Accordingly, the harpooner, the instant he has made a
good hit, bawls out, "Haul away! haul away!" upon which the men
stationed at the line run away with it, and the struggling wretch is
raised high into the air. Two or three of the smartest hands have in
the mean time prepared what is called a running bowline knot, or
noose, the nature of which may be readily described by saying that
although it slips up, or renders, very easily, it is perfectly secure,
without being subject to jamming. This running bowline, of which
several are always previously made ready, is placed by hand round the
body of the porpoise, or it may be cast, like the lasso, over its
tail, and then, but not till then, can the capture be considered quite
secure. I have seen many a gallant prize of this kind fairly
transfixed with the harpoon, and rattled like a shot up to the block,
where it was hailed by the shouts of the victors as the source of a
certain feast, and yet lost after all, either by the line breaking, or
the dart coming out during the vehement struggles of the fish.
I remember once seeing a porpoise accidentally struck by a minor
description of fish-spear called a grains, a weapon quite inadequate
for such a service. The cord by which it was held, being much too
weak, soon broke, and off dashed the wounded fish, right in the wind's
eye, at a prodigious rate, with the staff erect on its back, like a
signal-post. The poor wretch was instantly accompanied, or pursued, by
myriads of his own species, whose instinct, it is said, teaches them
to follow any track of blood, and even to devour their unfortunate
fellow-fish. I rather doubt the fact of their cannibalism, but am
certain that, whenever a porpoise is struck and escapes, he is
followed by all the others, and the ship is deserted by the shoal in a
few seconds. In the instance just mentioned, the grains with which the
porpoise was struck had been got ready for spearing a dolphin; but the
man in whose hands it happened to be, not being an experienced
harpooneer, could not resist the opportunity of darting his weapon
into the first fish that offered a fair mark.
The dolphin, the bonito, and the albacore, are sometimes caught with
the grains, but generally by means of lines baited either with bits of
tin, or with pieces of the flying-fish, when any are to be had. In
fine weather, especially between the tropics, when the whole surface
of the sea is often covered with them, a dozen lines are hung from the
jib-boom end and spritsail yard, all so arranged, that when the ship
sends forward, the hook, with its glittering bait, barely touches the
water, but rises from it when the ship is raised up by the swell. The
grains, spoken of above, resembles nothing so much that I know of as
the trident which painters thrust into the hands of Daddy Neptune. If
my nautical recollections, however, serve me correctly, this spear has
five prongs, not three, and sometimes there are two sets, placed in
lines at right angles to one another. The upper end of the staff being
loaded with lead, it falls down and turns over the fish, which is then
drawn on board on the top of the grains, as a potato or a herring
might be presented on the point of a fork.
The dolphin is eaten and generally relished by every one, though
certainly a plaguy dry fish. It is often cut into slices and fried
like salmon, or boiled and soused in vinegar, to be eaten cold. The
bonito is a coarser fish, and only becomes tolerable eating by the
copious use of port-wine.
It happened in a ship I commanded that a porpoise was struck about
half-an-hour before the cabin dinner; and I gave directions, as a
matter of course, to my steward to dress a dish of steaks, cut well
clear of the thick coating of blubber. It so chanced that none of the
crew had ever before seen a fish of this kind taken, and in
consequence there arose doubts amongst them whether or not it was
good, or even safe eating. The word, however, being soon passed along
the decks that orders had been given for some slices of the porpoise
to be cooked for the captain's table, a deputation from forward was
appointed to proceed as near to the cabin door as the etiquette of the
service allowed, in order to establish the important fact of the
porpoise being eatable. The dish was carried in, its contents
speedily discussed, and a fresh supply having been sent for, the
steward was, of course, intercepted in his way to the cook. "I say,
Capewell," cried one of the hungry delegates, "did the captain really
eat any of the porpoise?"
"Eat it!" exclaimed the steward, "look at that!" at the same time
lifting off the cover, and showing a dish as well cleared as if it had
previously been freighted with veal cutlets, and was now on its return
from the midshipmen's berth.
"Ho! ho!" sung out Jack, running back to the forecastle; "if the
skipper eats porpoise, I don't see why we should be nice; so here
goes!" Then pulling forth the great clasp-knife which always hangs by
a cord round the neck of a seaman, he plunged it into the sides of the
fish, and, after separating the outside rind of blubber, detached
half-a-dozen pounds of the red meat, which, in texture and taste, and
in the heat of its blood, resembles beef, though very coarse. His
example was so speedily followed by the rest of the ship's company,
that when I walked forward, after dinner, in company with the doctor,
to take the post-mortem view of the porpoise more critically than
before, we found the whole had been broiled and eaten within
half-an-hour after I had unconsciously given, by my example, an
official sanction to the feast.
On the 24th of May, the day before crossing the equator, I saw the
grandest display of all these different kinds of fish which it has
ever been my fortune to meet with. In my journal, written on that day,
I find some things related of which I have scarcely any recollection,
and certainly have never witnessed since. A bonito, it appears,
darted out of the water after a flying-fish, open-mouthed, and so true
was the direction of his leap that he actually closed with the chase
in the air, and sought to snap it up; but, owing to some error in his
calculation, the top of his head striking the object of pursuit, sent
it spinning off in a direction quite different from that which his own
momentum obliged him to follow. A number of those huge birds, the
albatrosses, were soaring over the face of the waters, and the
flying-fish, when rising into the air to avoid the dolphins and
bonitos, were frequently caught by these poaching birds, to the very
reasonable disappointment of the sporting fish below. These intruders
proceeded not altogether with impunity, however; for we hooked several
of them, who, confident in their own sagacity and strength of wing,
swooped eagerly at the baited hooks towed far astern of the ship, and
were thus drawn on board, screaming and flapping their wings in a very
ridiculous plight. To render this curious circle of mutual destruction
quite complete, though it may diminish our sympathy for the persecuted
flying-fish, I ought to mention that on the same day one dropped on
board in the middle of its flight, and in its throat another small
fish was found half swallowed, but still alive!
All this may be considered, more or less, as mere sport; but in the
capture of the shark, a less amiable, or, I may say, a more ferocious
spirit is sure to prevail. There would seem, indeed, to be a sort of
perpetual and hereditary war waged between sailors and sharks, like
that said to exist between the Esquimaux and the Indians of North
America, where, as each of the belligerents is under the full belief
that every death, whether natural or violent, is caused by the
machinations of the other side, there is no hope of peace between
them, as long as the high conflicting parties shall be subject to the
laws of mortality.
In like manner, I fear, that in all future times, as in all times
past, when poor Jack falls overboard in Madras roads, or in Port Royal
harbour, he will be crunched between the shark's quadruple or
quintuple rows of serrated teeth, with as merciless a spirit of
enjoyment as Jack himself can display. Certainly, I nave never seen
the savage part of our nature peep out more clearly than upon these
occasions, when a whole ship's company, captain, officers, and young
gentlemen inclusive, shout in triumphant exultation over the body of a
captive shark, floundering in impotent rage on the poop or forecastle.
The capture always affords high and peculiar sport, for it is one in
which every person on board sympathises, and, to a certain extent,
takes a share. Like a fox-chase, it is ever new, and draws within its
vortex every description of person. Even the monkey, if there be one
on board, takes a vehement interest in the whole progress of this wild
scene. I remember once observing Jacko running backwards and forwards
along the after-part of the poop hammock-netting, grinning, screaming,
and chattering at such a rate, that, as it was nearly calm, he was
heard all over the decks.
"What's the matter with you, Master Mona?" said the quarter-master;
for the animal came from Teneriffe, and preserved his Spanish
cognomen. Jacko replied not, but merely stretching his head over the
railing, stared with his eyes almost bursting from his head, and by
the intensity of his grin bared his teeth and gums nearly from ear to
ear.
The sharp curved dorsal fin of a huge shark was now seen, rising
about six inches above the water, and cutting the glazed surface of
the sea by as fine a line as if a sickle had been drawn along.
"Messenger! run to the cook for a piece of pork," cried the captain,
taking command with as much glee as if it had been an enemy's cruiser.
"Where's your hook, quarter-master?"
"Here, sir, here!" cried the fellow, feeling the point, and declaring
it as sharp as any lady's needle, and in the next instant piercing
with it a huge junk of rusty pork, weighing four or five pounds; for
nothing, scarcely, is too large or too high in flavour for the stomach
of a shark.
The hook, which is as thick as one's little finger, has a curvature
about as large as that of a man's hand when half closed, and is from
six to eight inches in length, with a formidable barb. This
fierce-looking grappling-iron is furnished with three or four feet of
chain, a precaution which is absolutely necessary; for a voracious
shark will sometimes gobble the bait so deep into his stomach, that he
would snap through the rope as easily as if he were nipping the head
off an asparagus.
A good strong line, generally the end of the mizen-topsail-haulyards,
being made fast to the chain, the bait is cast into the ship's wake;
for it is very seldom so dead a calm that a vessel has not some small
motion through the water. I think I have remarked that at sea the
sharks are most apt to make their appearance when the ship is going
along at a rate of somewhat less than a mile an hour, a speed which
barely brings her under command of the rudder, or gives her what is
technically called steerage-way.
A shark, like a midshipman, is generally very hungry; but in the rare
cases when he is not in good appetite he sails slowly up to the bait,
smells at it, and gives it a poke with his shovel-nose, turning it
over and over. He then edges off to the right or left, as if he
apprehended mischief, but soon returns again, to enjoy the delicious
_haut goût_ of the damaged pork, of which a piece is always selected,
if it can be found.
While this coquetry or shyness is exhibited by John Shark, the whole
after-part of the ship is so clustered with heads that not an inch of
spare room is to be had for love or money. The rigging, the mizen-top,
and even the gaff, out to the very peak, the hammock-nettings and the
quarters, almost down to the counter, are stuck over with breathless
spectators, speaking in whispers, if they venture to speak at all, or
can find leisure for anything but fixing their gaze on the monster,
who as yet is free to roam the ocean, but who, they trust, will soon
be in their power. I have seen this go on for an hour together; after
which the shark has made up his mind to have nothing to say to us, and
either swerved away to windward, if there be any breeze at all, or
dived so deep that his place could be detected only by a faint touch
or flash of white many fathoms down. The loss of a Spanish galleon in
chase, I am persuaded, could hardly cause more bitter regret, or call
forth more intemperate expressions of anger and impatience than the
failure in hooking a shark is always sure to produce on board a ship
at sea.
On the other hand, I suppose the first symptom of an enemy's flag
coming down in the fight was never hailed with greater joy than is
felt by a ship's crew on the shark turning round to seize the bait.
The preparatory symptoms of this intention are so well known to every
one on board, that, the instant they begin to appear, a greedy whisper
of delight passes from mouth to mouth amongst the assembled multitude;
every eye is lighted up, and such as have not bronzed their cheeks by
too long exposure to sun and wind to betray any change of colour may
be seen to alter their hue from pale to red, and back to pale again,
like the tints on the sides of the dying dolphin.
It is supposed by seamen that the shark must of necessity turn on his
back before he can bite anything, and, generally speaking, he
certainly does so turn himself before he takes the bait; but this
arises from two circumstances--one of them accidental and belonging to
the particular occasion, the other arising out of the peculiar
conformation and position of his mouth. When a bait is towed astern of
a ship that has any motion through the water at all, it is necessarily
brought to the surface, or nearly so. This, of course, obliges the
shark to bite at it from below; and as his mouth is placed under his
chin, not over it, he must turn nearly on his back before he can seize
the floating piece of meat in which the hook is concealed. Even if he
does not turn completely round, he is forced to slue himself, as it is
called, so far as to show some portion of his white belly. The instant
the white skin flashes on the sight of the expectant crew, a subdued
cry, or murmur of satisfaction, is heard amongst the crowd; but no one
speaks, for fear of alarming the shark.
Sometimes, the very instant the bait is cast over the stern, the
shark flies at it with such eagerness that he actually springs
partially out of the water. This, however, is rare. On these occasions
he gorges the bait, the hook, and a foot or two of the chain, without
any mastication or delay, and darts off with his treacherous prize
with such prodigious velocity and force that it makes the rope crack
again as soon as the whole coil is drawn out; but in general he goes
more leisurely to work, and seems rather to suck in the bait than to
bite at it. Much dexterity is required in the hand which holds the
line at this moment; for a bungler is apt to be too precipitate, and
to jerk away the hook before it has got far enough down the shark's
maw. Our greedy friend, indeed, is never disposed to relinquish what
may once have passed his formidable batteries of teeth; but the hook,
by a premature tug of the line, may fix itself in a part of the jaw so
weak that it gives way in the fierce struggle which always follows.
The secret of the sport is, to let the voracious monster gulp down the
huge mess of pork, and then to give the rope a violent pull, by which
the barbed point, quitting the edge of the bait, buries itself in the
coats of the victim's throat or stomach. As the shark is not a
personage to submit patiently to such treatment, it will not be well
for any one whose foot happens to be accidentally on the coil of the
rope, for, when the hook is first fixed, it spins out like the
log-line of a ship going twelve knots.
The suddenness of the jerk with which the poor devil is brought up,
when he has reached the length of his tether, often turns him quite
over on the surface of the water. Then commence the loud cheers,
taunts, and other sounds of rage and triumph, so long suppressed. A
steady pull is insufficient to carry away the line; but it sometimes
happens that the violent struggles of the shark, when too speedily
drawn up, snap either the rope or the hook, and so he gets off, to
digest the remainder as he best can. It is, accordingly, held the best
practice to play him a little, with his mouth at the surface, till he
becomes somewhat exhausted. No sailor, therefore, ought ever to think
of hauling a shark on board merely by the rope fastened to the hook;
for, however impotent his struggles may generally be in the water,
they are rarely unattended with risk when the rogue is drawn half-way
up. To prevent the line breaking, or the hook snapping, or the jaw
being torn away, the device formerly described, of a running bowline
knot, is always adopted. This noose, being slipped down the rope, and
passed over the monster's head, is made to jam at the point of
junction of the tail with the body. When this is once fixed, the first
act of the piece is held to be complete, and the vanquished enemy is
afterwards easily drawn over the taffrail and flung on the deck, to
the unspeakable delight of all hands. But, although the shark is out
of his element, he has by no means lost his power of doing mischief;
and I would advise no one to come within range of the tail, or thrust
his toes too near the animal's mouth. The blow of a tolerably
large-sized shark's tail might break a man's leg; and I have seen a
three-inch hide tiller-rope bitten more than half-through full ten
minutes after the wretch had been dragged about the quarter-deck, and
had made all his victors keep at the most respectful distance. I
remember hearing the late Dr. Wollaston, with his wonted ingenuity,
suggest a method for measuring the strength of a shark's bite. If a
smooth plate of lead, he thought, were thrust into the fish's mouth,
the depth which his teeth should pierce the lead would furnish a sort
of scale of the force exerted.
I need scarcely mention, that, when a shark is floundering about, the
quarter-deck becomes a scene of pretty considerable confusion; and if
there be blood on the occasion, as there generally is, from all this
rough usage, the stains are not to be got rid of without a week's
scrubbing, and many a growl from the captain of the after-guard. For
the time, however, all such considerations are superseded; that is to
say, if the commander himself takes an interest in the sport, and he
must be rather a spoony skipper that does not. If he be indifferent
about the fate of the shark, it is speedily dragged forward to the
forecastle, amidst the kicks, thumps, and execrations of the
conquerors, who very soon terminate his miserable career by stabbing
him with their knives, boarding-pikes, and tomahawks, like so many
wild Indians.
The first operation is always to deprive him of his tail, which is
seldom an easy matter, it not being at all safe to come too near; but
some dextrous hand, familiar with the use of the broad axe, watches
for a quiet moment, and at a single blow severs it from the body. He
is then closed with by another, who leaps across the prostrate foe,
and with an adroit cut rips him open from snout to tail, and the
tragedy is over, so far as the struggles and sufferings of the
principal actor are concerned. There always follows, however, the most
lively curiosity on the part of the sailors to learn what the shark
has got stowed away in his inside; but they are often disappointed,
for the stomach is generally empty. I remember one famous exception,
indeed, when a very large fellow was caught on board the Alceste, in
Anjeer Roads at Java, when we were proceeding to China with the
embassy under Lord Amherst. A number of ducks and hens which had died
in the night were, as usual, thrown overboard in the morning, besides
several baskets, and many other minor things, such as bundles of
shavings and bits of cordage: all of which were found in this huge
sea-monster's inside. But what excited most surprise and admiration
was the hide of a buffalo, killed on board that day for the ship's
company's dinner. The old sailor who had cut open the shark stood with
a foot on each side, and removed the articles one by one from the huge
cavern into which they had been indiscriminately drawn. When the
operator came at last to the buffalo's skin, he held it up before him
like a curtain, and exclaimed, "There, my lads! d'ye see that? He has
swallowed a buffalo; but he could not disgest the hide!"
I have never been so unfortunate as to see a man bitten by a shark,
though, in calm weather, it is usual to allow the people to swim about
the ship. It would seem that they are disturbed by the splashing and
other noises of so many persons, and keep at a distance; for although
they are often observed near the ship both before and after the men
have been bathing, they very rarely come near the swimmers. I remember
once, indeed, at Bermuda, seeing a shark make a grab at a midshipman's
heel, just as he was getting into the boat alongside. This youngster,
who, with one or two others, had been swimming about for an hour, was
the last of the party in the water. No shark had been seen during the
whole morning; but just as he was drawing his foot into the boat the
fish darted from the bottom. Fortunately for my old messmate, there
was no time for the shark to make the half-turn of the body necessary
to bring his mouth to bear; and he escaped, by half an inch, a fate
which, besides its making one shudder to think of, would have deprived
the service of an officer now deservedly in the higher ranks of his
profession.