can detect its whereabouts, by the fitful waving of the long feathery
tentacles surrounding the mouth of the fish, which immerses its body in the
sand. The vessel being anchored, her boat is got out, and pulled to the
smooth water within the reef, the divers keeping a keen scrutiny on the
milk-white floor for any indication of their prey. Suddenly, the man in
the bows holds up his hand, as a sign to desist from pulling. He drops
quietly into the clear water, and the length of time that elapses before
his black head reappears, is enough to make a bystander nervous. Often the
diver has to encounter his dread enemy the shark, and if cool and
collected, generally comes off victorious in the contest. The South Sea
Islanders have a thorough knowledge of the habits of this salt-water
pirate, and know that by keeping underneath him, they cannot be touched,
and they will fearlessly stab the intruder with their knives, and avail
themselves of his momentary departure to regain the boat. I have known one
instance of a native jumping into the water to distract the attention of a
shark that was swimming guard over his friend, and both escaped unhurt; but
still, despite their utmost skill, accidents do often occur. In shallow
water the 'beche-de-mer' is caught with a five-pronged instrument,
resembling an eel-spear. The animals are split open, boiled, pressed flat,
and dried in the sun, and after a sufficient number have been taken, they
are carried to the island rendezvous and there smoked with dry wood, which
last process converts the slug into genuine 'beche-de-mer', fit for the
market, and for the palates of Celestial epicures. I tried to cook some,
but after boiling it for a couple of hours in a quart pot, it came out like
a dirty piece of indian-rubber, and so tough that no teeth could penetrate
it.

Captain Labonne welcomed us very cordially -- the sight of a strange face
must have been a godsend -- and most hospitably asked us to share his
breakfast, but as it consisted only of dried fish, which smelt most