242 THE SALT OF MY LIFE 



such at any rate was the largest that we caught. 

 An ancient bard, quoted by Izaak Walton, relates 

 a quaint scandal of how the sargo goes ashore 

 courting she-goats, and certainly the I. de Cima 

 does provide that attraction, for she-goats are the 

 only females in evidence. The sargo is caught 

 on a single cane rod and tight line, and the hook 

 is baited with the fleshy portion of a crab's leg. 

 This crab is by no means scarce, but during the 

 day it is as shy of pursuit as an undischarged 

 bankrupt ; and more than once, as time was limited, 

 Cossart resorted to the somewhat laborious and 

 certainly expensive plan of stalking each crab 

 with his rifle, picking it off on a rock before it 

 could scuttle out of sight and then sending Manoel 

 to retrieve the game before the Atlantic washed 

 it away. Manoel, an admirable gillie on such 

 occasions, played a still more important part in 

 the proceedings. Someone in the Latin Grammar 

 used to offer, I never understood under what 

 circumstances, to perform the function of a whet- 

 stone. Manoel was more useful still, for he per- 

 formed the function of a sprinkler of ground- 

 bait. Chewing a fascinating mixture of these 

 crabs and sweet potatoes in his mouth, he would, 

 with the calm precision of a Zoo llama bedewing 

 a silk hat, project it, a little at a time, round our 

 lines. The sargo, like the black bream of Australia, 

 bites so tenderly that it requires a little practice 



