Often We Went Fishing; Not Dozing Over Stupid Hooks And Lines, But
Leaping Right Into The Water, And Chasing Our Prey Over The Coral
Rocks, Spear In Hand.
Spearing fish is glorious sport.
The Imeeose, all round the island,
catch them in no other way. The smooth shallows between the reef and
the shore, and, at low water, the reef itself, being admirably
adapted to this mode of capturing them. At almost any time of the
day - save ever the sacred hour of noon - you may see the fish-hunters
pursuing their sport; with loud halloos, brandishing their spears, and
splashing through the water in all directions. Sometimes a solitary
native is seen, far out upon a lonely shallow, wading slowly along,
with eye intent and poised spear.
But the best sport of all is going out upon the great reef itself by
torch-light. The natives follow this recreation with as much spirit
as a gentleman of England does the chase; and take full as much
delight in it.
The torch is nothing more than a bunch of dry reeds, bound firmly
together: the spear, a long, light pole, with an iron head, on one
side barbed.
I shall never forget the night that old Marharvai and the rest of us,
paddling off to the reef, leaped at midnight upon the coral ledges
with waving torches and spears. We were more than a mile from the
land; the sullen ocean, thundering upon the outside of the rocks,
dashed the spray in our faces, almost extinguishing the flambeaux;
and, far as the eye could reach, the darkness of sky and water was
streaked with a long, misty line of foam, marking the course of the
coral barrier.
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