Big Game at Sea 



The Mexican Gulf was sprinkled with emeralds in 

 settings of white coral sand, and upon these islets, the 

 cayo of the Spanish, the sun beat with a fierce and 

 torrid heat. Not a breath fanned the air, the heat 

 appealing even to the eyes, rising from the sandy 

 beaches and distorting every object. The cranes 

 standing on the point loomed up like grotesque 

 giants; the gnarled roots of mangroves, half a mile 

 away, resembled sea monsters that had crawled out 

 upon the sand, and all nature seemed in revolt. The 

 blue sea, which stretched away to seeming infinity, 

 blending and melting into the horizon, was asleep; 

 even the great fringing reef, which ordinarily breasted 

 the seas so gallantly, was almost silent, giving out but 

 a sullen roar, with which the sharp, oft-repeated 

 " ha-ha " of the laughing gulls were the only sounds 

 which broke the stillness. Here and there a sharp fin 

 cut the water in circles, telling of a wandering shark ; 

 then a flash of silver, a shower of spangles, suggested 

 that the tarpon or some equally voracious enemy 

 was following the mullet shoals. 



On such a day we launched the little dinghy, 

 shoved off, and headed for Bird Key, to replenish the 

 larder. Eggs were the desiderata, and we had car- 

 ried an empty flour barrel to take them back in, a 

 receptacle at once suggestive of the possibilities of 

 supply and demand. Bird Key was about two miles 

 distant, and as we rowed along the dinghy passed 

 over a garden of the sea. A deep channel, a ribbon 



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