“Suckin’-fish,” was Ben’s laconic answer.
“A sucking-fish! I never heard of one before. Why is it so-called?”
“Because it sucks,” replied the sailor.
“Sucks what?”
“Sharks. Didn’t you see it suckin’ at this ’un afore I pulled it from the teat? Ha! ha! ha!”
“Surely it wasn’t that, Ben?” said the lad, mystified by Ben’s remark.
“Well, boy, I an’t, going to bamboozle ye. All I know is that it fastens onto sharks, and only this sort, which are called white sharks; for I never seed it sticking to any o’ the others,—of which there be several kinds. As to its suckin’ anythin’ out o’ them an’ livin’ by that, I don’t believe a word o’ it; though they say it do so, and that’s what’s given it its name. Why I don’t believe it is, because I’ve seed the creature stickin’ just the same way to the coppered bottom o’ a ship, and likewise to the sides o’ rocks under the water. Now, it couldn’t get anything out o’ the copper to live upon, nor yet out o’ a rock,—could it?”
“Certainly not.”
“Then it couldn’t be a suckin’ them. Besides, I’ve seed the stomachs o’ several cut open, and they were full of little water-creepers,—such as there’s thousands o’ kinds in the sea. I warrant if we rip this ’un up the belly, we’ll find the same sort o’ food in it.”
“And why does it fasten itself to sharks and ships,—can you tell that, Ben?”