He was then released in leisurely fashion, and we were permitted to take him forward and revive him.  As soon as he was able to stand on his feet, he was called on deck again, and not allowed to go below till his watch was over.  Meanwhile Captain Slocum improved the occasion by giving us a short harangue, the burden of which was that we had now seen a little of what any of us might expect if we played any “dog’s tricks” on him.  But you can get used to anything, I suppose:  so after the first shock of the atrocity was over, things went on again pretty much as usual.

For the first and only time in my experience, we sighted St. Paul’s Rocks, a tiny group of jagged peaks protruding from the Atlantic nearly on the Equator.  Stupendous mountains they must be, rising almost sheer for about four and a half miles from the ocean bed.  Although they appear quite insignificant specks upon the vast expanse of water, one could not help thinking how sublime their appearance would be were they visible from the plateau whence they spring.  Their chief interest to us at the time arose from the fact that, when within about three miles of them, we were suddenly surrounded by a vast school of bonito, These fish, so-named by the Spaniards from their handsome appearance, are a species of mackerel, a branch of the SCOMBRIDAE family, and attain a size of about two feet long and forty pounds weight, though their average dimensions are somewhat less than half that.  They feed entirely upon flying-fish and the small leaping squid or cuttle-fish, but love to follow a ship, playing around her, if her pace be not too great, for days together.  Their flesh resembles beef in appearance, and they are warm-blooded; but, from their habitat being mid-ocean, nothing is known with any certainty of their habits of breeding.

The orthodox method of catching them on board ship is to cover a suitable hook with a piece of white rag a couple of inches long, and attach it to a stout line.  The fisherman then takes his seat upon the jibboom end, having first, if he is prudent, secured a sack to the jibstay in such a manner that its mouth gapes wide.  Then he unrolls his line, and as the ship forges ahead the line, blowing out, describes a curve, at the end of which the bait, dipping to—­the water occasionally, roughly represents a flying-fish.  Of course, the faster the ship is going, the better the chance of deceiving the fish, since they have less time to study the appearance of the bait.  It is really an exaggerated and clumsy form of fly-fishing, and, as with that elegant pastime, much is due to the skill of the fisherman.

As the bait leaps from crest to crest of the wavelets thrust aside by the advancing ship, a fish more adventurous or hungrier than the rest will leap at it, and in an instant there is a dead, dangling weight of from ten to forty pounds hanging at the end of your line thirty feet below.  You haul frantically, for he may be poorly hooked, and you cannot play him.  In a minute or two, if all goes well, he is plunged in the sack, and safe.  But woe unto you if you have allowed the jeers of your shipmates to dissuade you from taking a sack out with you.