126 CONFESSIONS OF A BEACHCOMBER 



slips of silver — the perpetual whirl keeps pace with the 

 splashes of the bonito and the ripples of the worried small 

 fry. 



Could they enjoy the satisfaction of the fact the little 

 fish might snigger when the terns are called upon to exert 

 all their agility and tricks, vainly endeavouring to elude the 

 long slim-winged frigate bird. This tyrant of the upper 

 air observes, as it glides in steady, stately circles, the noisy 

 unreflecting terns, and with arrow-like swiftness pursues 

 those which have been successful. Dodge and twist and 

 double as it may — and no hare upon land is half so quick 

 or resourceful as the wily tern in the air — the frigate bird 

 follows with the audacity and certainty of fate, until 

 flustered and frightened the little fish is abandoned, to be 

 snapped up by the air-ranger before it reaches the sea. As an 

 exhibition of fierce and relentless purpose, combined with 

 sprightliness and activity, the pursuit of a tern by the fear- 

 less frigate bird, and the impetuous swoop after and seizure 

 of the falling fish, cannot be matched in Nature. 



As the cries of the circling tern mark the movements 

 of the distracted shoals, the blacks in canoes fit in to 

 the scheme of destruction, taking a general toll. So pre- 

 occupied are the bonito, that they fall a comparatively easy 

 prey to the skilled user of the harpoon. Sharks continue 

 the chain of destruction by dashing forays on the bonito, 

 and occasionally man harpoons a shark. With his frail 

 bark canoe tugged hither and thither by the frightened but 

 still vicious fish, the black, endowed with nerve, then enjoys 

 real sport. Not the least in dread of the shark, his only 

 fear being for the safety of his harpoon and line as the 

 lithe fish leaps and snaps, the black plays with it until it 

 submits to be towed ashore. 



The birds' eggs on the coral banks also make an item 

 in the blacks' bill of fare ; while the frantic little fish 

 hustled towards the shore are captured by the million in 

 coffer-dams made of loosely twisted grass and beach trailers. 



