The Strife of the Sea

by T. Jenkins Hains

The loggerhead was resting upon the surface watching the men. They had not yet noticed him, but he had gone so long without harm from anyone that he anticipated none. He was satisfied that his superiority to all other creatures put him beyond the pale of becoming a victim to anything.

Suddenly a fisherman noticed him and yelled to his companions across the slue, pointing at the bony beak that showed above the surface. His companions were too far away to hear what he said, but their sharp eyes followed his signals and they soon noticed the turtle.

The net was drawing in closer and closer, the water was getting shoaler, and the men were walking the lines ahead more rapidly. The fish imprisoned beyond its scope now saw their danger plainly and they tore the water into foam in their frantic efforts to escape. The loggerhead saw them and watched them lazily, much amused at their struggles. His contempt for them grew so supreme that when they rushed past him in one of their frantic plunges he snapped viciously at a lagging mullet and very nearly cut him in two. Then he sank slowly down to the sandy bottom below, for the hurrying fish annoyed him.

The net was now nearly up to the end of the slue, and a giant leader of the mullet school made a mighty dash for liberty. He tore down the lagoon and rising with a sudden sweep upward, leaped high in the air and plunged over the line of corks which floated the top of the trap.

He went free. Another, encouraged by his example, made the dash also and went over. The rest, seeing the leaders leap to liberty, made a dash in unison and with a mighty rush plunged at the floating line of buoys. Hundreds went over in spite of the fishermen, who manned their boats and rowed along the net, holding it aloft wherever they saw the crowd coming. Some gave out at the jump and drove against the deadly meshes, and others, finding the crowd too close for them, swerved at the line and flowed past in a solid phalanx of shimmering silver to swim back and make a new trial.

The cries of the men and the rush of the passing schools began to make the loggerhead restless. There was something very extraordinary taking place. He was angry at the miserable fish who were so useless and helpless. His contempt finally became so great that he concluded that he would go down to the other end of the slue where the sand shark usually lay waiting for the little fish to come out in deep water. He started to scull himself forward and had just made headway when he suddenly brought up against the net.

The water was less than ten feet deep where he was, and he followed the obstruction upward to the surface, thinking to find it end before he came into view of the men. But the line of buoys held it well up and his head popped out of the water before he realized that he could not pass. A man in a boat made a vicious lunge at him with a boat-hook, but he got out of the way and followed the net along trying to find a way to get through.

The mullet and whiting were now leaping by scores over the corked line. Their active life had made them fleet and strong. They had fought for existence from the beginning, and the trap about them was but another of the many obstacles they must surmount if they would endure. They were terrified, but they acted quickly and sensibly, their fright not causing them to overlook any possible means of escape. They were getting clear in spite of the shouting men who were now hauling line as fast as they could. Several large skates and a couple of flounders who had lived up the slue were vainly trying to burrow under the heavy leadline that swept the bottom. The loggerhead noticed them as he passed, but they paid no heed to him. A troop of crabs were being hustled along the bottom by the weighted line. They were snapping at everything that came in their reach.

The loggerhead began to get anxious to go away. He made a savage lunge at the meshes closing about him and he drove his head through a great rent he made with his beak. His paddles, or flippers, however, caught in the snare and he struggled wildly and with gigantic power to get through. His tremendous struggles soon drew the corked line below the surface and brought the fishermen hurrying in their boats to find out what caused the trouble. They gazed down into the depths and soon made out the giant shape struggling frantically. Seizing the lines of the seine they quickly hauled the loggerhead to the surface, where one of them grasped his hind paddle and held it long enough to get a bowline around it. Then they rowed to the shore, towing him ignominiously behind the craft, while the few remaining mullet, who were too small and weak to make the leap for liberty, crowded swiftly through the gap and headed for the open sea.

Even the skates now made for the opening in the trap. They rose to the surface with difficulty, but managed to get clear. In less than five minutes every living thing in the shape of a fish had escaped.