American Angler in Australia (1937) (8 page)

"Gosh!" I exclaimed. "I'll bet this bird doesn't work so slow when he'
s
after a man."

"Quick as lightning!" replied Bill.

The shark swam under the boat. I hooked him, and he acted precisely a
s
had the first. But with the lighter tackle I could handle him better. H
e
turned out to be heavy and strong, making it necessary for me to put o
n
my harness. Then we had it out, hard and fast. Nevertheless I was able t
o
do little with him. Had he chosen to run off we would have had to u
p
anchor and go after him. But he chose to circle the boat and swim unde
r
it, giving me plenty of trouble. When I discovered the gray nurs
e
wouldn't run I put on some drag and pitched into him. Several times I ha
d
a glimpse of something long and gray, like a ghost of a fish. In half a
n
hour I had him coming. I did not see him clearly, however, until Pete
r
had heaved on the leader. Then! what a thrill and a start! This on
e
appeared a monster, eleven feet longs thick as a barrel, huge fins al
l
over him, veritably a terrible engine of destruction. He would hav
e
weighed eight hundred pounds. Peter held the leader while Bill gaffe
d
him. Then there was hell. The shark threw the gaff and bit through th
e
leader in what appeared a single action.

"Oh, Peter!" I protested, in grievous disappointment. "He wasn't ready.

Why didn't you let him go?"

Peter looked mad. Bill said not to mind, that there were more. Thi
s
reassured me, and I asked for another leader. They were all twenty fee
t
or more long, too long, but we had to use them.

"Look down there!" called Bill as I threw out my bait.

I did not look, because my bait had hardly sunk to the bottom, which wa
s
only three fathoms, when I had another of those slow electrifying tugs.

When I hooked this gray nurse he nearly jerked the rod away from me an
d
the rod-socket. By this time I was getting angry. I went after this on
e
hammer and tongs. His action induced me to think he was trying to get t
o
the boat and kill me. He never swam a dozen yards from where I sat. I pu
t
the wood on him, as we call hauling hard with the rod, and eventuall
y
whipped him and brought him up to the gaff. He nearly drowned me. And th
e
boys were ringing wet and mad as wet hens. When Peter tied this on
e
alongside the other they began to fight.

We rigged up another leader and I went at it again. This time Bill sa
w
one before I threw my bait in. "Look down," he directed, and pointed.

By peering over into the green water I saw long wavering shapes. Sharks!

Gray nurse sharks, some of them nearly twelve feet long, swimming aroun
d
over the chum we had distributed.

"My word! What a sight!" I ejaculated.

"Be careful the next one doesn't jerk you overboard," warned Bill.

"What'd they do?"

"Tear you to pieces!"

I well believed that, and I proceeded to fasten the snap below the ree
l
so the rod could not be pulled away from the chair. In less than te
n
seconds after my bait disappeared I had a strike, and in another second I
w
as fast again. It required about a quarter of an hour to lick the nex
t
one, around three hundred pounds in weight. We got him, tied hi
m
alongside his comrade; and his arrival started another fight.

The next two severed my leader, one at the gaff and the other was cu
t
clean about the middle of the fight. That required other new leaders.

This last was put on by Bill and my bait thrown overboard, when we hear
d
a hard thumping behind us. Peter, the scalawag, had dropped a hook dow
n
on a heavy cord, and he was fast to a shack. He got the end of the leade
r
up. The shark was a whopper and he roared around on the surface an
d
banged against the boat.

"Help! Help!" yelled Peter.

Bill ran to his assistance just as I had another strike. In a twinkling I
w
as hooked to my heaviest gray nurse. He gave me a very hard battle. I
n
eeded my heavy outfit on him. But I was getting him well under contro
l
when Peter's shark swam under the boat and fouled my leader with his.

In the mOlTe that ensued Peter's shark broke away. I worked on min
e
awhile longer before I trusted him to Pete and Bill, whose blood was u
p
and who had a lust to kill these man-eaters. No doubt mine was up, too
,
because I would have caught those devils until I was used up. This gra
y
nurse was my largest to land. He weighed around five hundred pounds. Whe
n
they tied him, head down, tail up, next to the other three, there wa
s
another convulsion. The boat cantled over and I had to hold on. Four gra
y
nurse sharks in a row! And all possessed of devils! They did not appea
r
to be sick or weak. They just fought.

"Peter, for Pete's sake let up on that hand-line stuff," I begged.

"Like hob I will," repeated my boatman.

"But you'll only foul my line."

"No matter. We'll ketch 'em."

And he had hold of another in less than ten seconds, even while Bill wa
s
baiting my hook. This time I watched. And I grasped that Peter would no
t
give the sharks an inch of line. He sweat and swore and held on like gri
m
death. The hook pulled out. Then I stood up to peer over the gunwale.

Sharks thick as fence pickets!

But I could not see clearly. A few were small and many were about te
n
feet long, and several were very large. I wanted one of the biggest. M
y
next was a smaller one, however, and I soon dragged him up. Peter had on
e
on, too, and could not help us. Bill held the leader and the shark whil
e
I gaffed it. What a strange all-satisfying sensation, as the steel wen
t
in! But of course I was wholly primitive at the moment. The shark gave
a
wag and the gaff handle hit me on the head. I went down, not for th
e
count, but to bounce up furious.

"Put a rope over his tail," yelled Bill.

"Don't do that," ordered Peter, aghast.

"Mind your own business," I replied. "Looks like you had your hands full."

Grasping up a tail rope, I widened the noose to bend over the gunwale an
d
try to lasso that sweeping tail. I got the noose over, but before I coul
d
draw it tight he flipped it off. He bit at my hands and swept them asid
e
as if they were paper. I was, drenched to the skin. Then he hit me
a
resounding smack on the cheek and temple.. Hurt? I was never so hurt i
n
my life. Nor mad! I bent lower, grim and desperate.

"Look out!" yelled Bill. And before I could move he let go gaff an
d
leader, and dragged me up. I had a glimpse of a gray flash, a crue
l
pointed nose. One of the devils had made a pass at me.

"My God!..
. B
ill, did that shark...?" I gasped.

"He did. Grab the rod and pull your shark back..
. A
fraid I've los
t
the gaff."

While I was pumping and winding my shark back Peter broke the heavy cor
d
on the one he had hooked. That made him madder than ever. Bill ra
n
forward to recover the gaff, which came out of the shark and floated up.

"I'll get one or bust," sang out Peter.

"This is a swell way to get rid of leaders," I replied. "But go to it.

This will never happen again."

In less than a minute I was fast to another, and Pete's yell assured m
e
he was, too.

Then things happened so quickly, and I was so confused with blood lust t
o
kill sharks, and the excitement of the sport, that for a space I coul
d
not tell what was going on. There was tremendous exertion and much hoars
e
shouting, and especially a terrific splashing maelstrom when both m
y
shark and the one Peter had hooked got tangled up with the four wicke
d
ones we had tied to the boat.

That was a mess. It must be understood that the four live sharks wer
e
tied on the opposite side of the boat from which I was hanging on to th
e
one I had hooked. My rod was bent double, mostly under the water. I ha
d
hold of my line with both gloved hands.

The men saved my shark, a good ten-footer, and lost Peter's, which h
e
said was a whale. This time Peter cut his hand on the leader, an
d
therefore let up on his hand-line stuff. He had lost four. This helpe
d
matters somewhat, for the next and sixth one I hooked was not so hard t
o
land. When he had been tied up on my side of the boat, the men tried t
o
call me off. I indeed was spent and panting.

"Not on your life!" I yelled. "Not while they'll bite and I can lick 'em."

"They're thinning out," said Bill, gazing deep into the water. "Bu
t
there's a big one, if you can get hold of him..."

Marvelous to relate, I did, and he felt as if he was the granddad of tha
t
school of gray nurse sharks. He kept away from the boat for a while. H
e
even came up, so that I could see all his wonderful silver-gray shape
,
his many fins, his gleaming eye and terrible shining teeth. This one wa
s
close to twelve feet long. He circled the stern, weaved to and fro, wen
t
under us time and again; in fact, he tried everything but to swim away.

That was the strange thing. I could not understand it, unless he wante
d
to stay there to kill the thing which had him.

The sun was setting gold and blazing behind us on the wooded bluff. Ther
e
were glorious lights and shadows on the Toll Gates. The water had a shee
n
of red, beautiful, though very significant of that afternoon's fight wit
h
man-eaters.

I was sure of this big one. Which conceit was foolish. I worked hard o
n
him. I stopped him, or thought I had, time and again. All of a sudden
,
when he was almost under me, he made a quick lunge. I heard snaps. I fel
t
released from a mighty pull. My tip, line, and harness strap all broke a
t
once, and I fell back in the cockpit.

Next morning we hung my six gray nurse sharks on our tripod on the beach.

I never felt such satisfaction and justification as that spectacl
e
afforded me.

They were sleek, shiny gray, lean and wolfish, yet somehow had
a
fascinating beauty. The largest two weighed nearly five hundred pound
s
each.

Their noses and small eyes and curved teeth fascinated me most. Ther
e
were six rows of these long curved teeth. Under the first row was th
e
second, ready to bend a new tooth up when one was lost. It horrified m
e
to think how often on Australian beaches this engine of destruction ha
d
buried such teeth in human flesh. Never again for one of these six, I
t
hought, grimly! I'd rather catch and kill such bad sharks than land th
e
gamest sporting fish that swims.