The Takuo. 
163 
I leisurely set about preparing my tackle. I 
had a month previously bought from an 
American trading brig some magnificent hooks 
—hollow-pointed, flatted Kirby’s, about 6 in. 
long in the shank and with a corresponding 
curve, and as thick as a lead pencil—big 
enough and strong enough for a full-grown 
tiger shark. My line, too, was a good one— 
American cotton, 32 cord, and as stout as 
signal halliards—-just the very thing for either 
a takuo or a pala. Three or four of Harry’s 
Pleasant Island natives watched me with great 
interest, and all expressed their admiration of 
my tackle, and then showed me their own 
—thick nine-plait coir cinnet, and heavy, 
barbless hooks, the points curved in so deeply 
as to render a barb unnecessary. These were 
their own manufacture, made from old fish 
spears. 
My host’s brother-in-law (Stirling had a 
Pleasant Island wife) was in charge of our party, 
which numbered six, just enough for the boat, 
on reaching which, two hours before dawn, we 
found a number of children of both sexes 
awaiting us, carrying baskets of cooked fowls, 
fish and young coconuts, which were at once 
