Chapter V: Part 5

“Ye see,” said he, after we had been watching the antics of a huge rat who was scampering around the edge of the hatchway, “that feller has got as much sense as you have. It’s ole Toby, one o’ the old fellers what’s been aboard this vessel since she carried her first cargo. He’s a most uncommon old rat, an’ that’s a fact. He’s as happy an ole raskil as ever haunted a ship’s bilge, an’ he aint afeared o’ much. I seen him chase a cat clean into the galley door onct, and he would ha’ got her but fer the fool ‘doctor’ heavin’ a pan at him. See how quick he kin jump. Just look at them whiskers, hey?

“I remember when I first seen him, away back in the eighties, when Captain Jackson took command. He ware a young feller then an’ the captain’s wife used to come o’ evenings an’ sit on the bridge jest over this forrad hatch. She ware a fine-lookin’ gal, an’ that’s a fact, a heap finer-lookin’ than the ole man. He warn’t nothin’ much fer looks anyway, a little chap with a squint an’ grizzled whiskers fer all the world like ole Toby’s there, but he ware a terrier fer handlin’ canvas in the ole days. I seen him onct--but no matter, that aint got nothin’ to do with what I’m goin’ to tell ye.

“Ye see, the gal was mighty pretty. I don’t know as I ever seen a woman as good-lookin’. She had golden hair, an’ eyes as soft an’ blue----”

“Go on with the yarn,” interrupted the bos’n; “we’ll let the girl go.”

Keon smoked on in silence after this as though he had taken offense, but we soon saw by the look of his eyes that he was far away from that fore hatch.

“The second mate used to sit right here,” he went on at last, “an’ she would look over the bridge rail on fine evenings an’ watch the Nibblers goin’ an’ comin’ around this hole. Rats is like all other animals, includin’ humans, in respects to selections, an’ the way these fellows would fight an’ scrap fer each other was somethin’ funny to see. The biggest an’ strongest rat would knock the other out an’ take up with one o’ the young an’ frivolous females, jest like it occurs in story books. He was the hero, big an’ strong an’ fine-lookin’, an’ o’ course the gal rat would care fer him like females care fer all heroes. He was supposed to have all the fine qualities o’ rat in his make-up, jest like a hero has, an’ the way he would go a-scamperin’ around after some little feller who wasn’t strong enough to stand to him was funny to see. The captain’s wife used to come to the rail an’ look down an’ watch them fer hours, an’ laugh an’ laugh when some fellow like big Toby there would put the rest out the way, an’ the second mate he would sit there close by durin’ the dog-watch, an’ watch, too, but he warn’t always lookin’ at the rats. Then when he had to go on the bridge he had to meet that queer little captain who waren’t no bigger’n a good-sized mouse. He didn’t reach much more’n up to the second mate’s shoulder. Sometimes the young woman looked hard at the two when they were together, an’ the skipper would get nervous, fer he thought a lot o’ her--an’ so did the second mate. The men forrads used to notice a thing or two, an’ they called the skipper ‘Squeak Jackson,’ he was so little an’ small in his voice. But he kept his temper an’ never let on as to what he thought o’ his size, fer he had been a good one.

“Ye see, rats don’t have no consciences. That’s where they differs with humans. Fools don’t have none to speak on, but sometimes there comes a time to most men when they wonders what about the little feller what gets licked. It’s all right in stories o’ love, and no one bothers at the time about the weaklin’ who can’t hold his own, but really when it comes down to hard fact without all the romance o’ women in it, there’s somethin’ sorrowful about the poor feller who can’t hold his way agin the stronger one. He aint done nothin’ wrong in bein’ weak, an’ he was born that way, so why blame him fer it? Sometimes it seems as if the world was wrong, always goin’ sides with the fine, handsome hero o’ the affair who can drive off the weaklin’ an’ rescue the female. What about the feller who was born weak an’ small, aint he got no feelin’s? But nobody cares a rap fer him. It’s nature. It shows humans are mostly animals, an’ as fer me I sometimes feel I lost somethin’ by not bein’ born a rat.

“Ye see, the _Spitfire_ was in the banana trade then. Bananas are the devil to carry if they get ripe on you, and get switchin’ around below. I seen the banana slush four feet deep in the lower hold, an’ ye know banana juice is about as acid as anythin’ goin’, an’ it cuts iron into holes an’ pits quicker’n you can tell o’ it. Ye got to be mighty careful cleanin’ a banana ship’s bilge if you don’t want her to get pitted, an’ her bottom like a piece o’ blottin’ paper soft enough to poke yer foot through with a kick. It takes a man who knows how to take care o’ a banana ship to keep her up!

“I don’t know how rats come to be in ships, but they come by the hundreds. Mebbe they come in the fruit, or stores. Anyways, there they be, an’ there’s no way to git rid o’ them.

“Ye see, there has to be a ceiling of wood in an iron ship to keep 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.

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.

One day a whale passed in his wake. The huge bulk of the creature might have appalled any fish, but he was hungry, and the fat blubber was tempting. His own three fathoms of lean, hard flank seemed meager enough.

With a quick movement he turned and made straight for the cachalot. The monster opened his mouth by dropping his long, thin under jaw, and made a chop at him, but he swerved and sank his triangles deep in the blubber of the animal’s neck, covering a good hundred pounds of him.

The whale plunged wildly, lashing right and left with his powerful tail, finally throwing himself clear of the sea and falling again with a stupendous crash. But the shark held grimly on. Rolling over and over the animal tried to throw himself clear of that grip. The blubber was tearing out in a huge ribbon where the triangles had cut it clear, and the blood was showing upon the white fat. The sea was a surf upon a submerged reef. And all the time the shark jerked and wrenched, dodged and pulled until the huge mouthful came clear.

Quickly the whale turned to chop with that long jaw studded with huge points of ivory. Quicker still slewed the shark. The whale missed, and the shark again sank those terrible cutters deep in the hole already made in the animal’s neck. This time it was flesh that felt the bite, and the pain maddened the leviathan. With a bellow like a bull he started off, dragging the shark along with him as though he had been but a tiny pilot fish.

On and on the great whale tore, while the shark hung helpless by his side. The whale was doing all the work, and all he had to do was to hold on. Gradually the pace eased a little, and finally stopped. Then down, straight down into the abyss below, plunged the leviathan.

But even here the shark still held his grip. The pressure became enormous in that cold blackness, but he could stand it as well as the monster.

Then, after an hour of twisting and rolling, they came quickly to the surface again, the whale somewhat tired. Now was the shark’s chance. Letting go his hold he made a sudden fresh chop to tear the bite out, and he backed away with a huge piece of flesh. The whale turned as quickly as possible, but he was tired now, and the shark chopped him again and again, savagely tearing out great pieces of blubber and beef.

The sea was dyed red, and the surging of flukes and threshing about brought several wandering sharks from the depth to see what it all meant. One of these, a huge killer, joined the fight against the whale, and soon he also chopped and tore the wound into a great hole. The fight now became general, as the strangers took a hand. The worried whale rolled and smote right and left, but our shark tore him deeper and deeper.

One of the newcomers ventured across the whale’s head, and was promptly seized in the long thin jaw that swung up and cut him in halves. All except the first assailant left the whale to eat the unfortunate shark, and the two fighters were alone again for some minutes.

The whale now became weaker, and except for an occasional lunge lay quietly beating the sea with his flukes.

The shark now began to bolt large pieces of him at his leisure, and the rest seeing him at work came sneaking back again. They formed a circle around the dying monster, and rushed in and chopped him whenever they dared. In a little while he began swimming slowly in a circle, and then finally stopped. He gave one final sidelong blow with his flukes that broke every bone in a shark’s body that happened in its way. Then he lay still and rolled upon his sides. He was dead. And now from the lonely depths where all was apparently a void, the scavengers came sneaking forth.

Big sharks and little sharks, hammerhead and shovel-nose, all began to circle about the huge carcass, and watch for a place to chop a piece of blubber out. They crowded and jostled each other, and sometimes even fought for a place alongside. Above them the whale-birds screamed and squawked as they hovered and lit for an instant to tear at the juicy covering of the carcass.

Our fighter had by this time gorged himself with several hundred pounds of whale beef, and being tired from the exertion of the encounter, he swam slowly away.

In the following weeks of cruising he found smaller game, but he now felt a contempt for all other creatures. He had vanquished the largest animal alive, and the feeling that he could conquer anything made him slow to tackle smaller fish.

For months he cruised to the westward and skirted the shores of the continent, finding enough to eat around the river mouths. In one harbor where there was much offal he lived for several years, only going to sea for a draught of fresh salt water now and then. He grew steadily in size until he reached full twenty feet in length.

His hide was now of a dull grayish-brown, shading to white on his belly. Upon it the little hard lumps of bony substance thickened. His jaws were nearly three feet wide, and he now had six rows of triangles, the outside and largest being over an inch on a side clear of the gums. His eyes were large and bright, and his nose broad and sensitive.

Several ugly little fish followed him around wherever he went. They had flat tops to their heads, and looked like black corrugated chunks of rubber with tails to them, the corrugated part of their heads being on top. With these slits they sucked strongly to the shark when he swam, making him tow them about without any exertion on their part. His hide, however, was too thick to mind a little thing like that, and he finally came to know each one so well by sight that he never made a chop at them. They were about the only living things he let pass him.

As time passed he developed a taste for company. A desire to meet his kind came upon him, and he left the lazy life in the harbor and went to sea again.

He traveled through the West Indies, and there one bright hot day on the reef he met a shark that appeared most friendly. It was a new feeling that came upon him at the meeting, a desire to live in the companionship of the stranger for a time. He even found himself letting her take the first choice of some barracuda he had killed, and from one thing leading to another he waxed very affectionate.

They traveled together during a moon, and then they found a warm spot on the Bahama Bank where the hot stream flowed past beautiful coral hills that rose from the blue depths.

Here they lingered for some time, his mate giving birth to five soft-skinned little sharks. He was not much interested in this and once made a chop at one of the youngsters, cutting him in half.

For this his mate made a chop at him, and nearly cut off his side fin. Then, finding that everything was not as pleasant as it had seemed, he cruised away again to the southward.

One day he came to a queer thing floating upon the water. It was not unlike a whale as viewed from underneath, but every now and then a peculiar creature with arms and legs swaying wildly, dropped from it and went to the bottom. Then, staying but a moment to collect some shell-fish, it would rise again to the surface.

This interested him, and he lay by watching. Then, the smell of these creatures being somewhat appetizing, he made a dash at one as he arose.

He came to the surface with the man in his jaws, and he saw the whalelike object was full of similar animals. They shouted and made a great noise when they saw their fellow chopped in halves and carried away by him.

Now the taste of this peculiar creature was very good--much better, in fact, than the fish he had been eating. For a long time after his meal he waited a few fathoms below the surface, hoping another would descend.

Finally, he noticed a long line trailing away from the floating thing above. He watched it and smelled it, and found there was something tied to the end. He was a little afraid that there was something wrong with that line and a sudden fear came upon him. He hesitated. Then his old careless spirit came back, and he nosed the bait, finding it some kind of flesh he had never tasted before. He pushed it about while the instinctive fear of the peculiar smell held him. Then he made a chop and bolted the lump.

The line, however, would not cut. He chopped and chopped, again and again, backing away, but to no purpose.

Suddenly the line became taut. A sharp pain struck him in the throat, and he knew he was fast to the line by some sharp thing in the flesh he had bolted.

He became panic-stricken and fled away. But no sooner would he forge ahead a few fathoms than that line would draw so tight the pain was unbearable. He would be slowly and surely pulled back again.

This lasted for some minutes, and then his old spirit of apathy came upon him, and he allowed the line drag him where it chose, while he held it like a vice in his jaws.

Soon he found himself at the surface, and the strange creatures like the one he had eaten made a great noise. There were several flashes like lightning, only not so bright, and with the noise like thunder he felt heavy blows upon his head. He made a desperate dash away, and tore the line slack for many fathoms, but the pain in his throat stopped him from going farther. Then he was lifted slowly back to the surface again.

There he lay a huge, dark shadow under the clear water. He was growing faint and dizzy from the blows upon his head, and the last he saw of the bright sunlight was the blue water foaming about him, and a row of eyes looking over the edge of the floating thing.

They passed a bowline over his tail and hitched the throat-halliard block to it. Then they hoisted him tail first into the air, and cut the hook from his mouth. A diver cut off his tail and hung it on the jib-boom end for luck. Later they cut him adrift and he sank slowly down to the white coral below, lying there upon his side, a grisly sight. The shadow above disappeared, and then the scavengers of the reef came creeping up to do their work.

The whaling schooner _Erin_ was a modern vessel. She had a little of the “old greaser” about her. She had been built and fitted out at New Bedford, Mass., the mother-port of nearly all good whaling craft, and she was manned by men who had served their time in whaling ships. Her tonnage was not over three hundred, but she was so strongly put together that she looked somewhat heavier than she really was. Her bow was like that of a clipper, and her stern had the modern overhang of a cruising yacht, but her beam was great and her top-sides bulky, showing a tumble-home like that of the ancient frigates. Therefore, she was not considered fast. Her spars were short and stumpy, and she had no foreboom, owing to chunky smokestack that arose from her main deck, over which the foresail passed. She was flushed fore and aft, save for a heavy-built superstructure over her engines, through which the smokestack protruded, and it was evident that she could stand a great amount of rough usage. Being built for southern whaling in the vicinity of Cape Horn, she needed all the strength that could be put into her, and Captain Jackson, her commander, always kept her down to a draught of fifteen feet, even when running light, to enable her to hold up to the tremendous rolling seas off the Cape. Forward, she carried a peculiar sort of cannon on her forecastle, which fired an exploding harpoon weighing a hundred pounds, heavy enough to put a quietus upon any ordinary member of the whale family. Her boats and other gear were of the usual type; but, as she was not to carry oil, either in bulk or casks, her deck was devoid of the ordinary furnace of the sperm-whaler, and her hold of the odor which comes from the usual mass of rancid blubber when packed for a long voyage from the Arctic Ocean, in vessels hunting the right whale. She was, in fact, a stanch, trim little vessel. Her crew of thirty men had been selected and shipped, and Captain Jackson cleared for his last cruise.

When well off shore, the boiler was cooled and sails set, for there must be no waste of coal, and the _Erin_ stood to the southward on her long run to the Falkland Islands, where she would begin her hunt for the giants of the southern ocean.

The run south was made without any unusual experience. On the sixty-first day out she raised the huge mountains of Patagonia to the westward, and, shortening sail so as to drift not over four knots an hour, she hauled on the wind and stood through the “black water” between the Falk Islands and Staten Land.

In December and January, the Antarctic summer months, the air is quite cold as far north as the fiftieth parallel. The “blow” of a whale stands out sharply against the sky as the warm air in the animal’s lungs turns into vapor, giving the hunter a chance to see it at a distance of several miles. Objects seem to lift from off the horizon as in a mirage, only they are not inverted.

Here, in the summer season, the great rorqual, or finback whale, disports himself in ease and security, for, until lately, he has had few known enemies, and has been unmolested by man. Dozens of these great creatures often follow a huge bull leader, and they jump and plunge about as lively as they would if their weight were reckoned in pounds instead of tons.

The huge, timid creature who led a school under the shadow of Tierra del Fuego, that season, was a giant of his kind. One hundred feet of solid bulk was between the tips of his tremendous flukes and the end of his hideous head. A hundred tons of bone and sinew, covered with a coating of thin blubber, to keep out the cold of the icy seas.

His head was ugly and flat-looking, and his mouth a hideous cavern, full of slabs of whalebone, from which depended masses of horrible hair to act as a sieve for the whale-food poured down his gullet. His back slanted away to a place amidships, where a lumpy knob rose, as if he were a hunchback, and from there aft he sloped in long and sinuous lines to the spread of his tail or flukes, which were fully two fathoms across. The blades of the _Erin’s_ wheel were not nearly so large or so powerful as the blades of bone and cartilage that drove him ahead through the yielding medium, or raised the tons of flesh and blood to a height that showed a full fathom or more of clear sky under his thin belly when he breached. He was a giant, a descendant from prehistoric ages when monsters of his kind were more common than they are to-day. It is doubtful if ever anything existed in flesh or blood of greater size.

How old the giant was no one could learn. His age could hardly have been less than two centuries, for whales grow slowly. They are like other warm-blooded animals, and it takes many years to build up a mass of a hundred tons of flesh fiber. He was known to Captain Jackson, who had seen him on former voyages, but as yet he had not made his acquaintance; for, in spite of the old whale’s size and age, he was very timid. He would rush from a pair of fierce “killers,”--the dreaded sharks who attack toothless whales,--and only his tremendous size and activity would prevent them from following him. Consequently, whenever Jackson lowered his small boats, with the intention of making him a visit, the old fellow would wait only long enough to allow the boats to approach within fifty fathoms of him. Then he would begin to edge away, and, before the whale-gun could be brought to bear, he would be in full flight to windward, his flock or school following in his wake. Many were the maledictions cast upon him by the whalemen, whose tired muscles bore witness to his speed, and, finally, he was left alone to roam at will in the “black water.” Where he went to, at the beginning of winter, it was impossible to tell, but, at the first easterly blow, he would disappear, bound for other parts, leaving nothing behind but a crew of angry sailors, and taking with him the memory of an undisturbed old age.

On that December morning, when Captain Jackson hauled on the wind and stood offshore, the sun shone brilliantly. The wind was light and from the southwest, and objects stood up plainly from the sea. The lookout at the masthead had just been relieved, when the time-worn cry of “blo-o-ow” reached the deck. Away to the southward rose the jets, looking almost as high as water spouts, as the warm vapor condensed in the cool air. It was a large school, or, more properly speaking, herd, for a finback is no more a fish than is a cow. Jackson came on deck and watched the blows, counting them over and over to get the exact number of his game. Whalebone at so much a ton was within easy distance, and it looked as if a few thousand dollars’ worth of the substance would find its way below hatches by dinner time. The forward gun was overhauled and the line and harpoon cleared, the latter being charged with a heavy load of powder. The explosion would open the huge barbs of the harpoon and drive them deeper into the monster, expanding in his flesh, making it absolutely impossible to withdraw them by pulling on the line. They would not hunt him after the manner of the tame and harmless sperm whale, that can be killed with about as much ease as a cow in a pasture, in spite of all the sailors’ yarns to the contrary.