DEVIL FISHING. 33 



poon tore out ! An instant -before, I saw it driven 

 to the socket in the body of the fish, the next, it 

 was held up in air in the hands of the negro, bent 

 like a scythe. There was time, if there had been 

 presence of mind, to plunge it anew into the fish, 

 which floated a second or two on the surface. The 

 moment was lost ! I will not attempt to describe 

 the bitter disappointment that pervaded the party. 

 For a moment, only, a faint hope revived ; my 

 lance, secured by a cord, was still in his body it 

 might hold him ! " Clear my line, boys !" Alas ! 

 the weight of the fish is too much for my tackle 

 the line flies through my hand is checked the 

 socket of the lance is drawn through the orifice by 

 which it entered and tliefisli is gone ! We spoke 

 not a word, but set our sails, and returned to 

 the beach at Bay Point. We felt like mariners, 

 who, after a hard conflict, had sunk a gallant 

 adversary at sea yet saved not a single trophy 

 from the wreck to serve as a memorial of their 

 exploit. 



Yet, keenly as we felt our disappointment, there 

 is not one of us who would willingly have been 

 elsewhere and the pleasurable excitement of our 

 three hours' run, will be remembered to the end of 

 our lives. 



We struck the fish at eleven o'clock, a mile 



