St. Helena Beef 255 



Commercially the Dolphin may be neglected. 

 Except to sailors in saiUng vessels, the only places 

 where he is an object of any interest at all for food 

 or sale are Barbadoes and St. Helena. At the former 

 place he fetches a fairly good price, his flesh being 

 held in high esteem and greatly prized as a change 

 from the everlasting fl.ying-fish, while in St. Helena 

 he shares the privilege of being chased by the extra- 

 ordinarily mongrel fishermen with the bonito, the 

 albacore, and the horse-mackerel, the three being 

 classed under the generic term ' St. Helena beef.' 



To the poorly and monotonously fed seamen of 

 long-voyage sailing ships he is, of course, always 

 welcome, and some of my pleasantest recollections of 

 old sea-days are associated with his capture. Seated 

 aloft on the flying-jibboom end, with my line tipped 

 with a piece of white rag blowing in a graceful curve 

 just beyond the roll of foam roaring from under the 

 advancing bows, it was exquisitely dehghtful to see 

 a lithe gorgeous shape spring suddenly upward, seize 

 my lure, and commence its useful journey to the 

 hungry stomachs of my appreciative shipmates. 

 To the joy of capture, of successful sport, was thus 

 added the comfort of doing a kindly act, and I could 

 even imagine the Dolphin sharing my satisfaction. 



