Wild Life in Southern Seas. 
7 6 
the gunwale is the tackle. Rude it is, but effec¬ 
tual—a huge wooden hook, cunningly trained 
when it was a young tree-root into growing into 
the proper shape, and about forty fathoms of 
strong coconut-fibre rope—as thick as whale¬ 
line and as strong. Taking a flying fish, or a 
piece of the flesh of a shark caught the previous 
day, a native ties the bait around the curve of 
the great hook. Then he lowers the line, which 
sinks quickly enough, for the wooden hook is as 
heavy as it is big. Presently the line tautens— 
Jack is there. The steersman strikes his paddle 
into the water to bring the canoe’s head round, 
the man holding the line gives it a sudden jerk 
that makes the outrigger rise a foot out of the 
water and nearly upsets the little craft, and a 
third native handles a short iron-wood club ex¬ 
pectantly. Perhaps, if Jack is a big fellow, he 
will obstinately refuse to turn, and make a 
strenuous effort to get away deep down into 
the blue gloom, a hundred fathoms below. 
Sometimes he does ; apparently nothing short 
of a steam-winch at the other end of the line 
would then stop him ; and so fathom by fathom 
the line descends, and the steersman and 
“ clubber ” look anxiously at the few fathoms 
