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 
