Voyage of the Destroyer from New York to Brazil | Page 7

a magazine of bullets into the body of a dead
shark one day at the anchorage. It was a very large monster, but Mr.
Brown, the Santuit's engineer, had already shot the brute through the
head, killing him instantly. Nevertheless, our third gunner's mate blazed
away, putting every shot that he fired near one centre close abaft the fin
by a method of quick action with the trigger and lever which he called
"pumping." "If this shark were only Mello!" I thought. This feat led,
naturally, to a rehearsal of exploits at the Soudan, which we had not
heard of before. Oh, no; It was the "Bedouin scouts that came for us
one morning, swinging in on their tall war camels, and I just took aim
with my rapid firing gun and pumped the riders out of their saddles,
one, two, three, just like that, Sir." This, in fact, was told confidentially
to me with a coolness to indicate that it was nothing to "pump" a man.
For the admonition of sailors and sea bathers, generally, I say, put no
faith in the yarn about harmless sharks. They are always liable to be
about coral reefs and around ships--and they are always hungry.
The shark about which I was telling; one of the largest that I ever saw,
in the place, too, where even some natives declared there were none,
came near making a dinner off one of our crew. Mr. Kuhn, one of the
engineers, was in bathing. I had just advised him to come aboard: that
if "John Shark" should chance to sample him sticking plaster would
never make him whole again. But, "Oh, there is no sharks," he said, and
the American Consul, who was aboard, said there were none in the bay.
When up comes this monster, with a bound through the water, right
before us; as much as to say, "What do you think of me then, if there
are no sharks?" and he struck a bee line for Mr. Kuhn, who, fortunately,
was near the ship. It was going to be a close shave, however. The shark,
as he darted forward for his would-be victim, lashed the sea with his
tail like a pleased tiger.
Then Mr. Brown, the cool engineer of the Santuit, snatching his rifle

with haste, took aim, holding the range till the monster, rising to make
a grand lunge and clean sweep, fired. The ball passing through the
shark's head, decided the moment. The brute shot past his mark, with
closed jaws and lay lifeless on the water, a target, as I said, for the
gunner's mate, who "pumped" the carcass so full of lead that it sank
before it could be secured--any way it went down.
Mr. Kuhn proved himself to be a pretty fast swimmer, when he finally
concluded to take my advice and come aboard, and being reminded of
it by a twenty foot shark close upon his heels. Being an athletic young
man, it didn't take him long to get in over the side, without the aid even
of a step-ladder.
Mr. Kuhn, I may say in a word, landed on deck like a flying-fish in a
gale of wind, and not a moment too soon. It was a day for sharks. Three
more of the same species as the one just slain, not less, I should say,
than 18 feet long each, now appeared not far from the vessel. They
were apparently fighting over a greasy board some ten inches broad by
four or five feet long, which had been thrown over from the galley.
Pretty soon the board disappeared and didn't show up again. A butter
firkin was then thrown over. It drifted about 100 yards away, when it
was seized in the huge open jaws of a hungry white shark and went the
way of the board. Never a splinter of either came again to the surface of
the water.
Whether the board was swallowed whole, or first sawed or ground into
smaller lumber, nobody knows. It is only fair to state, however, that it
was a soft pine board. The firkin is no matter. The likes of that, or a
deck-bucket or two, it is well known, is mere dessert to a shark, if he is
a big one.
There was no need of further cautioning the crew to keep out of the
water. After the above occurrence one could hardly persuade the cook,
otherwise a brave man, to draw a bucket of it over the side; and some
of the older hands, never yet daunted by even sea-serpent or whale,
abstained from water now more than ever before. The monsters, I
confess, gave us all a turn.

Jan. 18th the Destroyer arrived at Fernando de Noronha where all
hands were busied, for the