82 THE SALT OF MY LIFE 



mine, and no sooner was it in my hands than down 

 went the top, and I was in a good fish, which circled 

 in vain on the unyielding line, and I soon raised 

 a black sea-bream of probably 2^ to 3 Ibs. Of a 

 certainty none of his other fish weighed more 

 than as many ounces. He was too amazed to 

 do more than stammer his thanks, and, as I turned 

 away, I fancy that he crossed himself, regarding 

 the black bream as the fruits of black magic. It 

 certainly was a ridiculous coincidence. 



The only other " fishing " that I find recorded 

 in those journals of Italian days was the spearing 

 of muraenas by torchlight among the rocks near 

 the Naval Academy. Sea-urchins abounded in the 

 pools, so that, even apart from the dreadful teeth 

 of the muraena, we were wise to go on these expedi- 

 tions in stout boots. These made progress on the 

 slippery rocks exceedingly difficult, and when 

 anyone fell, out went his torch, and the moment 

 a sharp shell cut his leg he made sure it was the 

 bite of a muraena. Why we ever embarked on 

 such grisly traffic, I cannot say, but at the time 

 these outings were voted capital fun. Now and 

 again we caught a muraena on the rod, but the 

 brute gave less sport than even a conger of the 

 same size, while the risk and trouble of taking if 

 off the hook are out of all proportion to the amuse- 

 ment. As a more recent renewal of my acquaint- 

 ance with this repulsive eel is narrated in a later 



