406 Big Game Fishes 



and one of these fishes sprang into the air so 

 near my boat at Aransas Pass that I intuitively 

 dodged. Even the big manta, seventeen feet 

 across, leaps, and I have heard the thundering 

 crash of its fall or return, sounding like an 

 explosion on a hot summer night on the Florida 

 reef. One of my boatmen, Paublo by name, a 

 negro prone to the siesta at any and all hours, 

 was very fond of fishing, and frequently when I 

 was fishing for small barracudas from the beach 

 of the Florida Keys, and he had caught my bait, 

 he would fling down his cast-net, take from his 

 pocket a long cotton line, and baited, send it 

 swinging out into the channel ; then lying down, 

 crossing one leg over the other, he would take 

 a turn with the line about his big toe, and forth- 

 with fall asleep. On one occasion I heard his 

 yells, and looking back saw him on his back, 

 one leg in the air, being nearly hauled over- 

 board by a large whip ray. I have referred to 

 the whip as a weapon, and a most effective 

 one it was. In poling my dinghy over the 

 reef a companion, who was sitting in the bow 

 with legs overboard, was suddenly struck by a 

 ray which darted up out of the high weed, not 

 only cutting his naked legs, but lacerating his 



