204 DAHLAK 



pilchards in-shore. He entered the water up to his knees, 

 threw the net in a wide sweeping circle, then drew it in, low 

 down and in the centre. He lifted it out of the water and 

 brought it to land. His companions offered him the basket 

 and some twenty to thirty fish slipped in. This operation was 

 repeated a dozen times until the basket was full. With this, 

 the bait had been caught and we could leave. 



Off they went in the sambuk, the nacuda at the tiller, 

 the men singing a mournful song in chorus. The sun was 

 blazing. We came behind with the engine. After reaching a 

 bank, three miles off-shore and one hundred and fifty feet 

 deep, the fishing began. After an hour the sambuk was 

 swarming with fish of the most magnificent colours, among 

 them some white and blue fish — shark bait. The Yemenite 

 chief changed lines and took the ceremonial one (different 

 from the others simply because it had a bigger hook and the 

 cord was thicker). He dropped in a little tunny and the battle 

 against the great adversary had begun. 



The bait had to be fresh. If after two or three castings the 

 shark did not bite, the fìshermaii changed it, drawing a new 

 one from out of the indescribable living confusion offish that 

 floundered in the bottom of the sambuk in a mixture of sea 

 water, blood and melting ice. Then he threw the line again, 

 tying a stone to it this time (there was a supply of stones on 

 the sambuk) so that it went down quickly and reached the 

 deep haunts of the shark without being fingered on the way 

 by an uninvited ruffian. Then he freed the line from the stone 

 with a jerk and began his work of invitation, persuasion and 

 mellifluous flattery, while his own tremendously barbarous 

 face turned into a pure incarnation of suavity, hypocrisy and 

 superfine diplomacy. It was hypnotizing. 



I was by now on his boat, elbow to elbow with him as he 

 chewed over the words of a monotonous song which certainly 



