DEVIL FISHING. 47 



genial climes ! which we find, or make for ourselves, 

 in latitude 32, under our blazing sky, when the 

 sun is peering down vertically upon our heads by 

 day, and the pestilence is abroad by night ! 



The fish, meantime, which we had struck, was 

 moving sluggishly through the water. He had 

 never drawn out half the rope, and seemed as if he 

 did not feel, or else disdained the harpoon which 

 was fastened in him ; when suddenly he darted off 

 at right angles with his former course. "Hillo 

 there! give him more rope! How furiously he 

 goes ! Surely the sharks have scented him, too, 

 for he rushes on like a stricken buffalo chased by a 

 gang of prairie wolves. Hope ! give him rope ! 

 Head the boat round ! helm down ! pull, starboard 

 oar !" All in vain : the forty fathoms are out she 

 broaches to broadside something must give way, 

 or we capsize ! The boat groans in every timber 

 the gunwale already kisses the wave when 

 shweep ! the harpoon fairly bounds out of the fish 

 (which the severity of the strain had drawn to the 

 surface), and flies into the air, as if shot from some 

 submarine swivel ! The boat rocks fearfully from 

 side to side, then settles again on an even keel! 

 The risk and the sport are over at the same instant ! 

 and we draw in our harpoon, which was twisted 

 into all manner of unserviceable shapes, and row a. 



