Troubles of an Observer 215 



bundled my prize up in the folds of the flying-jib, 

 which was lying loosely furled upon the boom. The 

 state of that jib when hoisted procured me a painful 

 interview with the bos'un, which I do not care to 

 recall, and my positive assertion that the fish's blood 

 was warm obtained me another hiding from the sail- 

 maker, for what he called contradicting. 



Singularly enough, such frequent disasters at these, 

 consequent upon my stating what I had discovered 

 for myself, while they naturally made me very reticent 

 in the presence of my elders on all debatable subjects, 

 have had the effect of making me loth to state my 

 experiences to anybody in a superior or authoritative 

 position — until the last few years, when, tired of feeling 

 so cowardly, I ventured to maintain opinions based 

 upon practical knowledge against ideas builded upon 

 theory. After that unpleasant day, I always noticed 

 how warm the blood of a Bonito was, but have only 

 once before stated it in print, when I was promptly 

 taken to task by an old and dear friend, a shipmaster, 

 who, while admitting that he had no recollection of 

 ever feeling a Bonito's blood in his life, was sure that 

 it could not be warm, as the Bonito was undoubtedly 

 a fish, and all fish were cold-blooded. 



The Bonito is peculiarly liable to the attentions 

 of parasites, both internal and external. I do not, 

 therefore, mean to hint that other fish have none, 

 only I have not been able to see them, whereas in 

 dissecting a Bonito it is impossible to avoid noticing 

 them. There are minute hangers on, something 

 like tiny limpets, in such snug places as behind the 

 pectoral fins, or between the ventrals, or on the * run ' 

 of the fish, where the body slopes away rapidly from 

 its central fulness to the fine lines of the tail. The 

 presence of these may account for the apparently 



