42 THE SALT OF MY LIFE 



course, was the beginning of the end, though, 

 when I come to contemplate any other sequel, 

 it seems impossible that the captain could have 

 viewed* with equanimity his trim decks being made 

 a shambles for such dirty prey. But the captain's 

 courtesy was not put to so severe a test. With 

 some difficulty, in the face of expert advice from 

 about fifty people, the only two who really gave 

 me any help being both dead and gone (Aubrey 

 Harcourt and another), I steered the now dis- 

 pirited ray round to the port gangway, which 

 was down for such passengers as might return 

 late from Adelaide, and the ship's butcher, a 

 brawny zealot with a fearful knife, stepped down 

 to stab the fish and, as might have been expected, 

 and as was perhaps best for all parties concerned, 

 severed the line in his haste. Belly upwards, 

 with not another kick left in him, the great ray, 

 which looked about the area of a full-sized bil- 

 liard table, sank slowly out of sight, the moon 

 showing its whereabouts to the last. Once again 

 the disappointed fisherman was the recipient of 

 that beautiful and inexpensive gift, sympathy. 

 Anglers are churlish knaves and do not always 

 appreciate it as they ought. They sometimes 

 use opprobrious language when condoled with 

 over a broken cast. And fishing is called the 

 gentle craft ! 



But I digress. When we were not fishing from 



