We all ceased fishing to watch, and half a dozen men began jeering at the lad, who was too excited to heed them.  Old Viliamu, who was in the next canoe, looked down, and then cried out that he could see the eel, which had taken several turns of its body around a thick branch of growing coral.

“His head is up,” he called out to the youth, “but you cannot move him, he has too many turns in and out among the coral.”  Then paddling up alongside he again looked at the struggling creature, then felt the line which was vibrating with the tension.  Stepping out of his own craft into that of the young man, the line was placed in his hands without an inch of it being payed out, for once one of these giant eels can get his head down he will so quickly twine the line in and out among the rugged coral that it is soon chafed through, if of ordinary thickness.  But the ancient knew his work well, as we were soon to see.  Taking a turn of the line well up on his forearm and grasping it with his right a yard lower down, he waited for a second or two, then suddenly bent his body till his face nearly touched the water, then he sprang erect and with lightning-like rapidity began to haul in hand under hand [12] amid loud cries of approval as the wriggling body of the eel was seen ascending clear of the coral.  The moment it reached the surface, a second native, with unerring aim sent a spear through it and then a blow or two upon the head with a club carried for the purpose took all further fight out of the creature, which was then lifted out of the water and dropped into the canoe.  Here the end of its tail was quickly split open and we saw no more of him for the time being.

To capture an eel so soon was looked upon as a lucky omen, to have lost it would have been a presage of ill-fortune for the rest of the day, and the incident put every one in high good humour.  By this time the tide was flowing over the flatter parts of the reef and young bonito could be seen jumping out of the water in all directions.  Immense bodies were, so I was assured by the natives, now coming into the lagoon from the sea, and would continue to do so till the tide turned, when those in the passage, unable to face a six-knot current, would be carried out again, to make another attempt later on.

By this time every canoe was hauling in large rock-cod almost as quick as the lines could be baited, and the bottom of our own craft presented a gruesome sight—­a lather of blood and froth and kicking fish, some of which were over 20 lbs. weight.  Telling the two boys to cease fishing awhile and stun some of the liveliest, I unthinkingly began to bale out some of the ensanguined water, when a score of indignant voices bade me cease.  Did I want to bring all the sharks in the world around us?  I was asked; and old Viliamu, who was a sarcastic old gentleman, made a mock apology for me—­

“How should he know any better?  The sharks of Tokelau have no teeth, like the people there, for they too are eaters of fala.”