DWELLERS OF THE SURF 109 



The beast gulped and then gUded backward. With all my 

 strength I pulled on the line. There was a sudden swirl of blue 

 water and the cord whipped out through my fingers, burning 

 them as it passed. Quickly I caught a turn on a knob of rock 

 and hung on. The line was as rigid as a bar of iron. Down it went 

 and curved back under the cliff. Catching a hitch on the rock 

 I seized the taut portion and heaved with all the weight of my 

 190 pounds. The line did not budge. I tried again but the big 

 eel had backed into its den and had wedged itself tightly in place. 



For ten minutes I heaved and pulled, then sat down on a rock 

 exhausted. The line had not come forward an inch; the moray 

 could not retreat. We were checkmated. Rushing back to the 

 house I grasped a small block and tackle left from the rigging 

 and dashed down to the surf again. The line was still rigidly 

 taut. As rapidly as possible I made a seizing about the portion 

 closest to the water. The other end of the tackle was fastened 

 to the knob that held the line. Once again I heaved but without 

 result. The tackle gave me the strength of several men but 1 

 could not move the moray out of its hole. What prevented its 

 throat from being torn away I do not know. Stretching the 

 tackle tight again I made the loose end fast to a point of coral 

 and then threw my weight against it. It seemed to budge a little. 

 Once again I tried. Dashing up to the house I retrieved another 

 short piece of rope and made it fast to the piece I was pushing, 

 catching the loose end around another corner so as to retain 

 whatever advantage I won. Inch by inch I dragged the moray 

 out of its crevice. It fought stubbornly, twisting its body 

 violently, gained a little and then suddenly gave way. In a 

 frenzy of hate and pain it flung itself into the surf and attacked 

 the line. With a rush I pulled it up on the moss-covered shelf 

 and then turned to free the tackle so that I could drag it out 

 of reach of the water. 



But I did not reckon with the blind hatred of the gasping eel. 



