Chapter 44 - A Story of Adventure on Land and Sea by Mayne Reid
The Albacores
The hope of replenishing their larder was likely to be realised easily, and ere long. Scarce had their sail caught the breeze, when they perceived alongside the Catamaran a shoal of the most beautiful fish that are to be found in any part of the boundless ocean. There were several hundreds in the shoal; like mackerel, all nearly of one size, and swimming, moreover in the same direction,—just as a school of mackerel are seen to do.
They were much larger, however, than the common mackerel,—each being about four feet in length, with a stout, though well-proportioned body, having that peculiar elegance of shape which belongs to all the mackerel tribe.
Their colour was sufficient of itself to entitle them to the appellation of beautiful creatures. It was a bright turquoise blue or azure, showing, in certain lights, a tinge of gold. This was the colour of their backs; while underneath they were of a silvery white, gleaming with a lively iridescence. A row of spurious fins above the tail, and another underneath, were of a bright yellow; while their large round eyes exhibited an iris of silver.
Their pectoral fins were very long and sickle-shaped; while the dorsal one, also well developed, presented a structural peculiarity in having a deep groove running longitudinally down the spine of the back, into which the fin,—when at rest and depressed,—exactly fitted: becoming so completely sheathed and concealed, as to give to the fish the appearance of being without this apparatus altogether!
If we except their lovely hues, their greater size, and a few other less notable circumstances, the fishes in question might have been taken for mackerel; and it would have been no great mistake to so describe them: since they were in reality of this genus. They were of a different species, however,—the most beautiful species of the mackerel tribe.
“Albacore!” cried Ben Brace, as soon as he saw them shooting alongside the raft. “Albacore be they. Now, Snowy, out wi’ your hooks an’ lines. In this fresh breeze they be a’most sure to bite; and we’ll be able, I hope, to make up for the loss o’ the others. Hush all o’ ye! Ne’er a word; ne’er a movement to scare ’em off. Softly, Snowy! Softly, ye ole sea-cook.”
“No fear, Massa Brace,—no fear o’ dem leabin dis ole Cat’maran, so long’s de be a-gwine on dat fashion. Looker dar! Fuss to one side, den de todder,—back and for’rad as ef de cudn’t be content nowha.”
While Snowball was speaking, and before he had commenced, the albacores had entered upon a peculiar movement. On first joining company with the Catamaran, they swam for a time alongside,—the starboard side,—keeping pace with the raft, and evidently making no exertion to go ahead of her, as they might easily have done. On the contrary, they scarce moved their fins; but floated slowly along at the exact rate of speed at which the craft was sailing, and not one bit faster. As they swam parallel to the raft, and also parallel to each other, one might have fancied them all joined together by some invisible link, that kept them from changing their relative positions both to the Catamaran and to one another!
All at once, however, and quick as the change of a kaleidoscope, this parallelism was terminated,—not as regarded each other, but with respect to the course of the Catamaran By a single flutter of their tails, the whole school was seen simultaneously turning head towards the craft; and then, like a flash of lightning, they passed underneath.
For a moment they were out of sight; but in the next they appeared on the starboard beam, swimming parallel as before, both to the course of the Catamaran and to each other. The manoeuvre was executed with such precision and uniformity, as could not be imitated among men,—even under the tuition of the ablest drill-sergeant that ever existed. They swerved from right to left, as if each and all were actuated by the same impulse, and at the same instant of time. At the same instant their tails made a movement in the water,—at precisely the same point of time they turned together,—showing a list of its silvery abdomen, and with like simultaneous action did they dive under the keel of the Catamaran.
It was this peculiar manoeuvre on the part of the fish,—won after repeated by their shooting back to the starboard, and again returning to larboard,—that had elicited from Snowball the assertion, so confidently put forward, that there was no fear of their leaving the Catamaran so long as they were going in that fashion.
Of those upon the raft, Ben Brace alone comprehended Snowball’s meaning. To little William it was a matter of some surprise when the ex-sea-cook spoke so confidently, and acted, moreover, as if he had no fear of frightening the shy-looking creatures that were swimming alongside.
“Why, Snowy?” asked the lad,—“why is there no fear of their being scared off?”
“Kase, lilly Willy, I hab de idea dar be something else not far off, dat dem albacore am more feerd on dan we. I no see dat someting yet. We sure see de long snout, by ’m by.”
“The long snout!—what do you mean by that, Snowy?”
“Wha do a mean?—de long-nose a mean. Tole ye so! dar he be yonner,—right on de la’bord quarter. Dis nigger knew he no far off. Da’s why de beauties hab come roun de raff; an dat I hope keep um hyar till we hab cotch a few ob dem!”
“A shark!” cried the boy-sailor, catching a glance of some large fish at some distance out in the water on the larboard bow,—the direction in which Snowball had pointed.
“Shark! nuffin ob de kind,” rejoined the negro; “diff’rent sort ob fish altogedder. If him wa shark, de albacore no stay hyar. Dey go up to him, and dart all ’bout im,—jess like de lilly birds when dey see big hawk or de vulture. No shark he,—dat ere skulkin’ fella. He am massa long-nose,—de real enemy ob de albacore. No fear ob dem leabin’ us, while he anywhar in sight.”
Saying this the Coromantee proceeded to single out his hooks; and, assisted by Ben Brace, commenced baiting them with an unconcern that testified a full confidence in the truth of his assertion.