ALMOST ISLAND 



I dropped the pole and it was drawn swiftly up, 

 then I began to weave the net back and forth in 

 the water, scooping in the floating silvery motes. I 

 dared not stop the movement or the net would turn 

 inside out. I found small fish of other species drift- 

 ing a little distance away, but I had to work fast, for 

 the fish were usually only stunned and soon began 

 to recover. In such fashion I gathered fifty-odd and 

 on deck we found they were beautiful little pear- 

 shaped infants, all shining gold and silver with 

 enormous gleaming eyes, blessed with the title of 

 PempheriSj but no popular name. 



A more exciting use of the dynamite cap was in 

 shooting larger fish, and this hunting demanded 

 every bit of my skill; the search for and the dis- 

 covery of some desired species, the cunning stalk 

 over sand and reef, both hunter and game at the 

 mercy of the swell, and finally the advance of the 

 little red lozenge, the signal, the invariable flinching 

 and the instant pursuit and capture of the up- 

 turned fish, to forestall any of its fellows who would 

 at once rush in to the attack. With this sport and 

 that of shooting flyingfish from the bow of a launch, 

 no game-bird hunter away from his coverts or pre- 

 serves or jungles need be bored. 



At first sight the sand appeared barren as a 

 desert, but I spent many dives sitting or lying as 

 flat as my helmet would permit, watching the ten- 

 ants of the shifting grains. At certain angles and 

 strength of current and tide, the very furrows seem 

 to be alive — having movement and rhythm, and 



43 



