CARTILAGINOUS FISHES. 
511 
hoisted on deck, as represented in Pi. XXV. On the quarter-deck of 
the skip ke is put to death, not without great precaution, kowever, for 
he is still a formidable foe from his terrible bites and from the still 
dangerous blows of his tail. Moreover, ke dies hard, and long resists 
the most formidable wounds. 
Captain Basil Hall gives a spirited sketch of the appearance and 
capture of one of those dreaded fishes ; a capture in which the whole 
ship’s company, captain, officers, young gentlemen inclusive, shout in 
triumphant exultation as the body of the shark flounders in impotent 
rage on poop or forecastle. 
“ The sharp, curved, dorsal fin of a huge shark was seen rising 
about six inches above the water, and cutting the glazed surface of 
the sea by as fine a line as if a sickle had been drawn along it. 
‘ Messenger, run to the cook for a piece of pork,’ cried the captain, 
taking the command with as much glee as if an enemy’s cruiser had 
been in sight. ‘Where’s your hook, quartermaster?’ ‘Here, sir, 
here,’ cried the fellow, feeling the point, and declaring it was as sharp 
as any lady’s needle, and in the next instant piercing with it a huge 
junk of pork weighing four or five pounds. The hook, which is as large 
as one’s little finger, has a curvature about as large as a man’s hand 
when half closed, and is six or eight inches in length, while a for- 
midable line, furnished with three or four feet of chain attached 
to the end of the mizen topsail haulyard, is now cast into the ship’s 
Wake. 
“ Sometimes the very instant the bait is cast over the stern, the 
shark flies at it with such eagerness that he actually springs partially 
out of the water. This, however, is rare. On these occasions he 
gorges the bait, the hook, and a foot or two of the chain, without any 
mastication, and darts off with the treacherous prize with such pro- 
digious velocity that it makes the rope crack again as soon as the 
ooil is drawn out. Much dexterity is required in the hand which 
holds the line at this moment. A bungler is apt to be too precipitate, 
and jerk away the hook before it has got far enough into the shark’s 
maw. The secret of the sport is to let the monster gulp down the 
whole bait, and then to give the line a violent pull, by which the 
harbed point buries itself in the coat of the stomach. When the hook 
is first fixed, it spins out like the log line of a ship going twelve 
knots. 
