[larger]

On board we had a full set of harpoons and granes with which to catch bonita. The bonita are the swiftest fish in the sea; no matter how fast the Snark sailed, they kept up with us without difficulty. Often, if we would slightly wound a bonita so that the blood would start, the whole pack would jump on this fish and have him eaten before we were out of sight. Again, we have hauled them from the sea with fresh-bitten holes in their flesh, as big as a teacup. Bonita are called the cannibals of the sea.

Thousands and thousands of flying fish could be seen. It was these that lured the bonita. For be it known that the flying fish are food for many deep-sea creatures, and for the swooping sea-birds. Incidentally, I might mention that on occasion they proved also a delicious diet for the crew of the Snark. Our boat was continually stirring up the flying fish, causing them to essay flight, but ever the birds swooped and drove them into the voracious maws of the bonita.

The sharks we caught by bending chain-swivels on small rope and attaching big hooks. The shark steaks were very good to eat, when properly prepared. We ate also pilot fish, and remoras; in fact, the sea yielded up its creatures abundantly to our larder. Once we p148 spied a big green sea-turtle, sleeping on the surface and surrounded by a multitudinous school of bonita. Hermann got him with granes. That turtle later appeared on our table, and toothsome he was! I think he must have weighed a full hundred pounds.

The dolphin proved good sport. We used an entire flying fish as bait, strung on a tarpon hook. The dolphin leap and fight and buck in mid-air when caught, turning the colour of rich gold. Many of them are heavy, being usually right around four feet in length.

A passenger on a steamer never sees any kind of fish other than bonita, unless it be an occasional whale or a school of porpoise, for the swish of the propeller frightens the fish so no one can ever experience the real excitement of good fishing at sea, unless he is on a sailing vessel. And when a fellow tells you of the fish he has seen from the deck of a steamer, enlarging upon their extraordinary length, their abundance, their gorgeous colours, just set that fellow down as a prevaricator.

In addition to "Martin Eden" Jack wrote on other work. There were his magazine articles, short stories, and other things to be attended to. He had now made up his mind to make a study of the South Sea Islanders, a fancy which, as the event showed, was never fathered into action. I have often wished he had had the opportunity to spend more time among the primitive people with whom we later came in contact. Jack p149 London, what of his animal stories, or tales of creatures closely approximating men, yet with all the simplicity of animals, has often been termed a "primitive psychologist." Had conditions favoured, I really believe he would have given to the world some studies of the strangest creatures in existence, making plain their mental processes and throwing light upon their manners and customs in a way never before attempted. But it was not to be. We were not wanted in the South Seas, as we were later to be shown.

We drifted at the will of the currents and tides for a couple of weeks, until we had just about reached the Equator; then storms were frequent, driving us to the westward further than we wanted to go. For eight or ten days we had miserable weather. A squall would show up on the horizon and a large black cloud sweep over the sky. Had we been in Kansas and seen such elemental disturbances, we should have hunted the storm-cellar. These storms would last from ten minutes to an hour. The little Snark would lay over in the sea while salt-water would pour over the decks and sweep below, leaving everything drenched. Many times the boat buried her rail and deck, but she did not turn turtle. The Snark was stanch.