A few minutes and we rounded the jutting headland, keeping close along the rocky shore of the island, gliding past snug bays and cozy little land-locked harbours, the homes and haunts of countless wildfowl; soon we leave the shore, and stand away to sea. The breeze is fresher here, and a ripple, that would be nothing in a boat, makes the flat-bottomed canoe unpleasantly lively. Save a wetting from the spray, and occasional surge of water over the gunwale, all goes pleasantly. The far-away land is barely distinguishable in the grey haze. No canoes are to be seen in the dark-blue water; the only sign of living things—a flock of sea-gulls waging war on a shoal of fish, the distant spouting of a whale, and the glossy backs of the black fish as they roll lazily through the ripple. The line at the bow is uncoiled, a heavy stone enclosed in a net attached as a sinker, a large hook made of bone and hardwood, baited with a piece of the octopus, (a species of cuttlefish), is made fast to the long line by a piece of hemp-cord; then comes a heavy plunge of the sinker, the rattle of the line as it runs over the side of the canoe, and—we wait in silence for the expected bite. A tug, that came unpleasantly near to upsetting all hands, lets us know that a halibut was bolting the tempting morsel, hook and all. A few minutes gave him time fairly to swallow it, and now a sudden twick buries the hook deeply in the fleshy throat; the huge flatfish finds, to his cost, that his dinner is likely seriously to disagree with him, whilst in the canoe all hands are in full employ. The bowman, kneeling, holds on tightly with both hands to the line; the savage next him takes one of the long spears, and quickly places on the end of it a shorter one, baited and bladdered; the other two paddle warily. At first the hooked fish was sulky, and remained obstinately at the bottom, until continued jerks at the line ruffled his temper, and excited his curiosity sufficiently to induce a sudden ascent to the surface; perhaps to have a peep at his persecutors. Awaiting his appearance stood the spearman, and when the canoe was sufficiently near, in he sent the spear, plucking the long haft or handle from the shorter barbed spear, which remained in the fish, the bladder, floating like a life-buoy, marking the fish’s whereabouts. The halibut, finding his reception anything but agreeable, tries to descend again into the lower regions, a performance now difficult to accomplish, as the bladder is a serious obstacle. Soon reappearing on the surface, another spear was sent into him, and so on, until he was compelled to remain floating. During all this time the paddlers, aided by the line-man, followed all the twistings and windings of the fish, as a greyhound courses a doubling hare.