EARLY MEMORIES 41 



August morning, the scene shifts to the poop of 

 the R.M.S. " Oceana " lying at anchor in the moon- 

 lit stillness of Largs Bay, Adelaide. Just as the 

 dressing-bugle sounded for dinner, a line, which 

 I had fitted up with a hook on treble wire and 

 baited with a whole mullet from the ice-chest, 

 was pulled out of my hand and sped away over 

 the side, being brought up only where it was made 

 fast to a rail. Once or twice I managed to shift 

 the other party a few yards nearer the surface, 

 but invariably he tired of such promotion and 

 sank back irresistibly to the depths. The second 

 bugle went ; the passengers went below to dinner ; 

 the moon rose over the bay. And still I stood by 

 the line, growing more excited every moment, 

 for the captive showed signs of approaching ex- 

 haustion, and, as it did not behave like any shark 

 of my acquaintance, I began to hope that it might 

 be something eatable, which would at any rate 

 compensate for the mess which its despatch might 

 soon make on deck. Alas, I was still ignorant 

 of the gifts that Australian seas hold for those 

 who woo them with bait. What I had in fact 

 secured as the price of my dinner was a gigantic 

 sting-ray, for, just as the passengers trooped along 

 the deck from the saloon companion, I brought it 

 to the surface, gleaming white in the moonbeams, 

 its long tail thrashing the molten silver like a flail. 

 A crowd soon gathered about me, and that, of 



