"Greenland shark, I think it is called. The Finland people fish for it. I say, Jakobsen, could we catch sharks anywhere hereabouts?" "I don't know about here, sir," said the Norseman gravely. "There are plenty near the Greenland shores." "How do you catch them?" "Oh, easily, sir, with a long line and winch to reel it up quickly. You let down a big hook with plenty of bait on it, right to the bottom, on some bank, about two hundred fathoms down." "Yes," said Steve eagerly. "That's rather deep, though." "Yes, sir; but that's where the sharks lie." "Are they very big?" "Yes, sir, all sizes--eight and ten and twelve or fourteen feet long." "Well, what then?" said Steve impatiently. "Oh, then, sir, you wait for a bite." "Of course, I know that! You wait for a bite in all fishing. But do you fish from a small boat?" "Oh no, sir. You go, six or seven of you, in a decent-sized smack, and fish till you've loaded her--if you're lucky." "But what do you do with the sharks? People don't eat them." "Make isinglass of their skins?" suggested the doctor. "Oh no, sir," continued Jakobsen. "I've been out two or three times, and very good trade it is, gentlemen. You sail out to the Greenland banks, and if the weather's good you're all right, for the sharks bite very freely, and as the line's very thin you can soon reel it up on a big winch." "But don't they fight desperately?" said Steve eagerly. "Sharks are so strong." "No, sir; they're cruel fish, sharks, but a Greenland shark's about the stupidest, most cowardly fish there is. He could break away easily enough, but when he's hooked and feels the line tight up he comes as quietly as possible, just as if he came to the top to ask what we wanted by hooking him like that." "And do you tell him?" said the doctor, laughing. The Norseman shook his head. "No, sir, we don't play with him. As soon as the bit of chain appears that's fastened to the bottom of the line on account of the shark's teeth--because, if it wasn't for that, he'd bite through the thin line-- some of us stand ready with a big hook at the end of a pole like a spar--a good sharp hook with a rope that runs through a block up aloft rigged to the spar; then, as the shark comes to the top--_click_!--the big hook's into him, the rope's tightened, he's hoisted on board, and before he has time to struggle much he's whipped up on to the deck, where two of us are ready for him." "And what do they do?" cried Steve,--"kill the shark?" "Yes, sir, and pretty quickly; for when the sharks are biting there's no time to spare. One of us gives him a crack on the head with a handspike, and the other cuts open his side with a big knife and drags out his great liver; then we use the pipe." "Yes, go on," said Steve. "And blow the dead shark full of wind and throw it overboard." "To keep it from sinking?"