78 Man Against Shark 



enough to see a great Manta entwined, but still very much alive. Rigging a line 

 through a block on the mast, they pulled away. But the mast gave way, cracked 

 at the deckline and fell into the net, too. Still undaunted, the natives kept trying 

 to pull in the net and, at the same time, make for shore, which was not far off. 

 Then they discovered another monstrous Manta entangled in the net! 



Towing the net, the two big Mantas and the mast, they somehow managed 

 to make shore. We had a derrick on the wharf, but it was not big enough to 

 lift the Mantas, so we beached them in the ebbing tide. When the water receded, 

 we made lines fast around them and rounded up a few natives to pull them to 

 the skinning platform. The Mantas wouldn't budge. We called a few more boys. 

 Again, they could not pull them in. We finally needed 22 boys to lift and drag 

 the carcass of each of the giant rays to the skinning platform. From one of the 

 Mantas I removed an embryo weighing 50 pounds. It was folded up in the shape 

 of a letter S, with one pectoral "wing" enwrapping the top of its body and the 

 other enwrapping the bottom. I carried it to the sea and put it in the water. Its 

 "wings" unfolded and it swam away, as gracefully as a bird. 



The waters off French Somaliland were full of sharks, and their cousins. We 

 caught not only sharks and Mantas, but Sting rays, Torpedoes and Sawfish. We 

 dried and cured shark jaws and Sting ray tails, and sent them to the Commis- 

 sioner of Fishes in Paris. He forwarded many of them to the Kensington 

 Museum in London and the Museum of Natural History in New York. Years 

 later, I learned from my friend Dr. Gudger at the Museum of Natural History 

 that I had made several valuable contributions to ichthyology. Many times I 

 would be sitting in his office, telling him some experience of mine, when he 

 would say, "Just a minute. Captain Bill." He would ring for his stenographer, 

 and, when she appeared with her pad and pencil, he'd say, "Now, Captain 

 Bill, spill the beans." In many papers which Dr. Gudger wrote he generously 

 credited me for supplying him with facts I had gathered in my shark travels. 



Among my souvenirs of the shark-hunting days on Warimos was the 6-foot 

 saw of an 18-foot Sawfish we caught one day. I had to restrain Ali when the 

 Sawfish was brought aboard, brandishing her dangerous weapon. He was all for 

 grabbing the fish as his own property, even before a few swipes of a hatchet 

 lopped off the wicked-looking saw-toothed snout. 



Back on shore, when the Sawfish was hoisted to the skinning platform, Ali 

 danced around it, veiling, "Le^ oeufs, les oeufs!" His was the first of many 

 greedy hands that reached into the shark's slitted stomach and pulled out les 

 oeufs. The eggs were not truly eggs. The Sawfish is viviparous. But the embryos 

 are connected in the womb to yolk-sacs which start off the size of ostrich eggs 

 early in the embryo's development. As the embryo grows, the yolk-sac is used 

 for food. Finally, at birth, the empty sac is cast off. 



Ali and the rest of the epicureans who raided the Sawfish's larder were not 

 aware of these anatomical facts. The yolk-sacs were true eggs to them. Les 

 oeufs— there were about 10 good-sized ones— were roasted on hot rocks over a 

 charcoal fire. When the cooks thought their "eggs" were done, they picked 

 them up, smoking hot, opened their thin shells and ate the gooey mess with their 

 fingers, which were carefully licked, one by one, when the feast was over. 



Not long after the Sawfish egg cookout, our work ended at Warimos. We 



