The Strife of the Sea

by T. Jenkins Hains

The young albicore grew very nervous as the sun sank behind the sea in the far west, dyeing the waves a deep crimson. He was remarkably sensitive for an ocean fish. Instinct told him that he would fare better away from that reef after the last full-grown albicore had gone. They had been going to sea all day by twos and threes, but had paid not the slightest attention to him or any of his younger mates. The longing for the open ocean came upon him and with it a nameless dread. He had no mother to guide him, no father to protect him. They had gone to sea with the rest and left him to shift for himself. But there was something in the deepening roar of the surf and the moaning of the sea among the sunken ledges that spoke of an all-pervading Power that would guide him onward to whatever life held in store. And yet with it all was that nameless fear and dread which made him alert to every vibration of the water. Darkness came suddenly, and some of his smaller companions began to seek shelter of the more shallow water within the coves and between the rocks. Their shimmering bodies grew less and less distinct until only the phosphorescent flare of the disturbed water when they moved gave notice of their presence. The semi-tropical night fell upon the peaceful ocean.

All that night the great fish moved westward. In the morning, just before the sun rose, the last of the laggards had started off into deep water, leaving the high cliffs like a wall in the eastward, while the somber bank of vapor rose again from the land and cast a gloom over the outlying reef.

While the young fish were waiting for the growing light to guide them in the wake of their forbears, there was a sudden commotion on the edge of the surf. Numerous plunges and splashes told of a horde of rapidly moving bodies advancing through the shoal water of the reef. The feeling of terror that had come over our young one the day before now seemed to pervade the entire crowd that scurried here and there in the gloom. Everywhere there seemed to be a state of wild alarm. Bunches of the smaller fish tried to find shelter in deep, dark holes where the kelp weed formed mats and snaky tangles. Then, just as the first rays of the morning sun glistened upon the crest of a great roller, there was a sudden rush through the water all about, and dark forms came plunging onward with incredible speed.

Our young one caught a glimpse of a great fish high in the air heading for him, and the next instant there were several huge gaping mouths between pairs of shining eyes rushing upon him from all sides. He saw his young comrades seized and swallowed, their frantic efforts to escape availing them not the least. Then with a wild terror, which spurred him to frantic action, he rushed seaward. A giant mouth made a snap at him as he went past. A huge form rose in the air and dropped upon him with jaws gaping. He made a mad dodge and just missed the rows of teeth, while the stroke of the falling body almost stunned him. Then he recovered and tore for the outer breakers. The bonita had struck inshore, and lucky would be the small fish who could escape their rush.

Away into the deepening blue of the ocean he sped headlong with all his energy. He looked neither to the right nor left, but held his way straight ahead with the terror of those fierce monsters vibrating through his whole being. On and on, without a thought of rest or slacking his speed, he pushed until the bright sunshine showed him a desolate waste of fathomless blue void around and beneath him, and a bluer void above, with the little lumpy trade-clouds swinging past overhead. He was heading almost due west, and as the day wore on and his terror gave place to fatigue, he slacked his speed enough to take a careful look about him. There was not a living thing in sight.

Hunger soon came upon him and stirred him to further action. He began searching the sea for food. Soon one of his former companions came up almost as exhausted as himself with the run for life, and together they swam slowly along just beneath the surface in the roll of the swell.

As the day passed more of his youthful relatives hove in sight until by night six followers held their way in his wake. These were all who had gotten to sea. Few indeed had escaped. The day had marked the death of countless young fish, for the bonita spared nothing that came in their path.

The seven albicore cruised in company, capturing what small surface fish accident cast in their way, but all the time they held a general course to the westward and northward to where the coral reefs rose from the bed of the equatorial ocean. Day after day they swam steadily on, the young albicore leading. Their silvery bodies grew apace and their backs took on a shifting blue color, so that looking down from above, it would have been hard to tell them from the surrounding blue depths. Sometimes the ugly and noisy bos’n-birds would swoop down as though to strike them, but by sinking a few feet beneath the surface the albicore easily escaped. At night the seven swam beneath a tropic moon, and as they went their courage grew rapidly with their size. Unfortunately they approached an unknown peak lying below the surface of the great ocean. Here they were chased by a huge dolphin who haunted the vicinity. Three of their number fell prey to him before they could get away. A week or two later the remaining four fell in with a roaming pair of bonita. Two more went the way of the weak.

The remaining pair of albicore now cruised onward together, our hero leading as before, until they came to Tahiti, in the South Sea. Long accustomed to danger now, they approached the shore warily, their tapering bodies scarcely disturbing the sea. The albicore had grown very fast, developing during these weeks of travel into powerful fish. The teeth of the male leader began to show sharply beyond his lips. He was growing more and more muscular, and the long swim was hardening him. He was sturdy and shrewd, and the wild instinctive fear that had governed his younger actions now gave place to a feeling of confidence. His mate had also developed into a strong fish, and as they swam slowly in through the outer breakers of the barrier reef, their long, sinuous bodies armed with jaws and teeth which were not to be despised, smaller fish approached to welcome them. The albicore received them coldly, heading straight into the sheltered coves of coral, where they would rest from their long run. Here they stopped at last and set about making a new home.

During the months that followed the albicore grew several feet longer. Our leader was now nearly six feet in length, with his long jaws armed with razor-like teeth, his tapering flanks with silvery scales covering muscles of great hardness and power. And with that power came a consciousness of his worth. His wild life and flight made him careful of the denizens of the coral banks. He grew cold and thoughtful until, as he reached his final development physically, he was a dignified and quiet fellow. The smaller sociable fish of the reef did not understand him. Theirs was a life of ease and comparative safety, and their thoughts seldom went beyond the boundaries of the outer barrier. They fussed among themselves and voted the great stranger and his companion surly company. The inquisitive little sunfish would sometimes take a peep in at the cove where the albicore usually lay in the sunshine on bright afternoons, but there was something in the great fish’s manner that the little reefer could not understand, and he set him down for a villain, keeping at a distance and looking askance always at those ragged teeth that peeped out from the long, sharp jaws. Even the mullet were warned, and gave the albicore a wide berth, while all the time he lay there with his thoughts far away where the peaks of Juan Fernandez rose from the sea. He was indeed a stranger in a strange place. Finally he was left alone with his mate.