The Journal of a Sporting Nomad 
which had at the other end of it a small wooden 
buoy. The turtle was turned back to a natural 
position, and allowed to enter the sea, where a 
man in a small boat lay in wait. So soon as he 
was able to get hold of the wooden buoy, which 
floated on the surface, with a strong boat-hook, 
and marked the turtle’s whereabouts, he hauled 
on the line until she appeared, when he took 
the fin ropes, with which the fore paddles were 
still loosely tied, and hauled on these until the 
back of her shell was up tight against the stern 
of the dinghy. Then he took a turn round the 
seat to make all fast, and rowed off with his 
victim to the steamer, where she was hoisted 
aboard and laid on her back on the deck. 
When we had loaded all our night’s catch, we 
sailed for the station, and the turtles were put 
into a stew, or enclosure, built out into the sea, 
where the water entered freely. Here they re- 
mained until they were needed for food. The 
killing of one is a great undertaking, and is ac- 
complished by tricing them up on a small tripod 
when their throats are cut; they take a long time 
to die, which makes their slaughter a disagree- 
able business. 
Turtles, as is well known, live to a great age, 
growing very slowly. ‘They are vegetarians, 
living mostly on a species of ribbon grass that 
grows luxuriantly about Ascension Island. 
Turtle soup as made by Ring and Brymer is 
68 
