At the back of the world

by George Pugh; Jennie Pugh

I must have looked bewildered, for he took me to the taffrail, and, looking over the stern at the baited hook, I saw several small and pretty fish, about the size of a herring, with whitish stripes across their backs. “These,” he said, “are called pilot fish, they always accompany a shark as a kind of satellite, and lead him to his prey.” As he was speaking the pilot fish had been smelling round the bait, they now darted away under the ship’s counter.

“Look out, look out,” cried the captain.

And slowly from under the counter came a huge, ugly, brown, shovel-nosed shark, the first I had seen, a horrid brute, with two large greasy-looking eyes. As it approached the bait, it turned over on its side and shewed its white belly and its awful mouth with numerous rows of sharp, saw-like teeth. It did not attempt to take the bait at once, but just took a smell as it passed, swimming a few yards away. Then it turned and made straight for the bait. As it drew near it turned on its back, its mouth being right underneath, and making a dart swallowed the bait, hook and a few feet of chain.

“Haul, haul, haul away!” cried the captain.

And haul away we did with all our might. When we had got him close to the ship’s stern we found him heavier than we expected, so some of the men were called to assist.

“Stop hauling,” ordered the captain, looking over the stern. “If we get him on the poop, he will either burst the deck or the skylight with his tail. Pull him up in the waist.”

So a line was rove through a block on the main topmast backstay and bent on aft; then the order was given to haul away again, and away the sailors ran along the deck with the rope in their hands. It was grand sport for them, and they thoroughly enjoyed it.

When hoisted up to the block we saw the immense size of the creature. The bight of rope was thrown over it, and it was pulled inboard and lowered on deck. Then the rumpus began. It cleared everything within reach. With one blow of its powerful tail it broke the hatch block that was hooked near where it lay, and wriggling near the topsail halliards, it bit through two strands of the rope. Then it lay still for a moment, and the carpenter adroitly pushed a board under its tail, and with one swift stroke of his axe cut it off. The shark was powerless after this, and it was soon killed and cut up. It measured seventeen feet from the tip of the nose to the tip of the tail. The girth just in front of the dorsal fin was seventy-two inches, the jaw when opened to the full extent measured twenty inches by eighteen. Its stomach was found to contain a dead fowl that had been thrown overboard that morning, and an old shoe that it must have got from some other ship. The liver was cut up into small pieces and put into an empty kerosene tin and placed in the foretop for the tropical sun to melt; when melted it is a good cure for rheumatism and stiff joints. The mouth contained eight rows of teeth, four on the top and four below, they were shaped like the teeth of a saw. The jaw bone was taken out and cleaned, and also the back bone, out of which two beautiful walking-sticks were made. For the benefit of my young readers I will explain how these sticks were made. The back bone was first cut into two lengths of thirty inches each. They were then put into pickle in the harness cask for one night, and hung up in the sun to dry. Then they were carefully scraped with a sharp knife, and all particles of flesh taken off. The small holes of the vertebræ were cleaned out with a sail needle and filled with putty mixed with black varnish. Then a thin steel rod was run through the centre hole where the spinal cord was, and screwed up with a nut. The whole was then varnished, and a beautiful stick was the result. The handle was made some time afterwards with the bill of an albatross caught off the Cape of Good Hope.

We got the north-east trade winds the following day, and I began to realize the true beauty of a sailor’s life, sailing along with a cloudless sky and fine clear weather, when every breath is life full and free, and the sea just lumpy enough to remind you that you are out of soundings. Every day we passed some homeward bound ships—in many cases two or three years had elapsed since they had sailed from dear old England. Then there would be signals, that language of the sea, and which I thought was wonderful, good wishes were exchanged for a pleasant voyage, the dipping of the ensigns, and away again. Then I saw the dolphins, porpoises, and flying fish darting hither and thither, and I thought how much more beautiful they looked in reality than in books, everything was wonderful and beautiful. My heart was young and knew no care.

We crossed the equator on the thirty-second day out, and two incidents happened on that day that I shall never forget. Just after breakfast the chief mate called me aft, and then sent me to fetch Walter Jones. Wondering what he wanted us for we went to him on the poop where he was standing with his long spying glass, looking over the ocean.