I tried sitting on him then, but he would not be sat down upon, and up he came again. Again we had it, dancing about in the slippery boat on a raging sea. It was a medley of waltz, two-step, polka, and galop, with a slimy silver king for a partner. He seemed to weigh a ton and to be ten feet tall. At last I got him down again and replaced one of the thwarts above him. I got out my knife, lifted up his immense gill cover and severed his heart.
The men were scooping out their fare of mullet, red-fish, and sea-trout. The large shark, a number of smaller ones, plenty of rays, and hundreds of other fish were still in the trap. Seeing a fine whip ray some four feet across and as spotted as a leopard, I shouted, "Captain, I want that whipparee!"
A Whipparee
The Stingaree
They soon gaffed him and deposited him on top of my tarpon. Then observing a huge sting ray, larger than the whip ray, I again called out: "Cap, gaff that big stingaree!"
"Not much," he answered.
"Yes," I continued, "I really want him; put him in my boat."
"You don't mean it. Why, he'll kill you."
"I'll risk it," I said; "haul him over in my boat."
"I'm afraid of him. His sting is six inches long!"
I prevailed on him finally, and after much careful management they hove it into my boat. "Look out for his sting!" cried Faulkner. "It's sure death!"