CHAPTER IX. 



The Wild. 



Has ray reader ever been present at the capture 

 of a shark? If he has crossed the line, or even if 

 he knows what it is to spend a week or two in 

 "the calm latitudes," the debateable border-sea 

 between the ordinary breezes and the trades, he is 

 no stranger to the assiduous attentions of this 

 lank and lithe tenant of the tropical seas. Jack 

 familiarly calls him by the title of "Sea-lawyer," 

 for reasons which are by no means complimentary 

 to the learned profession; and views him with 

 that admixture of hate and fear, with which un- 

 sophisticated landsmen are apt to regard his ter- 

 restrial representatives. To bait a line and catch 

 the mackerel or the bonito, is always a welcome 

 occupation to the sailor; but to no amusement 

 does Jack bend himself with such a hearty alacrity 

 as to take the "shirk." When, on approaching 

 the northern tropic, 



"Down drops the breeze, the sails drop down," 



'tis not "sad as sad can be;" for all is hilarity 

 and alertness. Away goes one to the harness- 

 cask, for a junk of salt pork, another is on his 

 knees before the cabin locker rummaging out an 

 enormous hook, which tradition confidently re- 

 ports is deposited there ; a third is unreeving the 

 studding-sail halyards to serve as a line, for so 

 tough a customer needs stout gear; a fourth is 

 standing on the taffrail, keeping an eye on the 

 monster, that now drops off, and now comes 

 gliding up, a light-green mass, through the blue 

 water, till his whiteness nearly touches the sur- 

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