- end_line
- 1969
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:48:18.534Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 1933
- text
- its feelers having a direct communication with the esophagus.
The shark swam sluggishly; creating no sign of a ripple, but ever and,
anon shaking his Medusa locks, writhing and curling with horrible life.
Now and then, the nimble Pilot fish darted from his side—this way and
that—mostly toward our boat; but previous to taking a fresh start ever
returning to their liege lord to report progress.
A thought struck me. Baiting a rope’s end with a morsel of our almost
useless salt beef, I suffered it to trail in the sea. Instantly the
foremost scout swam toward it; hesitated; paused; but at last
advancing, briskly snuffed at the line, and taking one finical little
nibble, retreated toward the shark. Another moment, and the great
Tamerlane himself turned heavily about; pointing his black, cannon-like
nose directly toward our broadside. Meanwhile, the little Pilot fish
darted hither and thither; keeping up a mighty fidgeting, like men of
small minds in a state of nervous agitation.
Presently, Tamerlane swam nearer and nearer, all the while lazily
eyeing the Chamois, as a wild boar a kid. Suddenly making a rush for
it, in the foam he made away with the bait. But the next instant, the
uplifted lance sped at his skull; and thrashing his requiem with his
sinewy tail, he sunk slowly, through his own blood, out of sight. Down
with him swam the terrified Pilot fish; but soon after, three of them
were observed close to the boat, gliding along at a uniform pace; one
an each side, and one in advance; even as they had attended their lord.
Doubtless, one was under our keel.
“A good omen,” said Jarl; “no harm will befall us so long as they
stay.”
But however that might be, follow us they did, for many days after:
until an event occurred, which necessitated their withdrawal.
- title
- Chunk 2