JOHNNY SHARK
JOHNNY SHARK
In the middle of the South Atlantic Ocean, about six hundred miles to the eastward of Cape St. Roque, rises the peculiar peak called the St. Paul’s Rock. It is some sixty feet above the sea level, and is a ragged granite point. Within a cable’s length of it the bottom apparently falls out of the ocean, for it takes nearly three miles of piano wire with an enormous deep-sea lead attached to find the half-liquid ooze below. If the blue water were suddenly to subside the tiny point of the St. Paul’s would present a different appearance. It would then be the highest pinnacle of a most colossal mountain.
It is on the edge of the calm belt, close to the equator, and the blue depths surrounding its huge flanks are seldom, if ever, disturbed by a storm. Only the steady trade swell rolling gently in upon its sides forms a white ring about it, and the dull roar of the southern ocean is but a low monotonous thunder that would hardly frighten the timid flying fish.
Besides this there is nothing save the occasional snore of a sea breaking over a submerged peak to disturb the silence; for here desolation and loneliness reign supreme. It is as though a bit of the Great Silence of the ocean bed were raised up to be burned in the glare of the torrid sunshine, and fanned by the breath of the unending trade wind.
But, if the peak is devoid of life, a look into the beautiful blue abyss alongside shows a different state. All kinds of shell-fish inhabit the hospitable caverns beneath, and fish can be seen darting here and there through the bunches of seaweed. The busy coral works steadfastly at his never-ending toil. The sea-crabs, star-fish, and their myriad brethren are all visible.
Sometimes a couple of albicore will dart past below the surface, or a flash of white reveal the quick strike of a dolphin, followed instantly by a shower of glittering gems that break from the surface and scatter,—the flying fish that have escaped those rapid jaws.
Then a huge dark shadow will rise slowly out of the blue invisibility below, and all the smaller fish will disappear. The shadow will take form, and will be that of an old shark lazily policing the rocks for pieces of the game that are deserted. He is a large brute, but in spite of his enormous fins and tail he is quite willing that others shall do his work of the chase for him.
If there happens to be an injured fish near, the great tail will give one or two powerful strokes, and chop! Those jaws, armed with half a dozen rows of sawlike teeth, with the points of those above fitting into the spaces between those below, seldom have to strike twice.