of prey; and moreover, in case of his being killed, evincing
their anguish by certain agitations, otherwise inexplicable; the
whole thing becomes a mystery unfathomable. Truly marvels abound. It
needs no dead man to be raised, to convince us of some things. Even
my Viking marveled full as much at those Pilot fish as he would have
marveled at the Pentecost.

But perhaps a little incident, occurring about this period, will best
illustrate the matter in hand.

We were gliding along, hardly three knots an hour, when my comrade,
who had been dozing over the gunwale, suddenly started to his feet,
and pointed out an immense Shovel-nosed Shark, less than a boat's
length distant, and about half a fathom beneath the surface. A lance
was at once snatched from its place; and true to his calling, Jarl
was about to dart it at the fish, when, interested by the sight of
its radiant little scouts, I begged him to desist.

One of them was right under the shark, nibbling at his ventral fin;
another above, hovering about his dorsal appurtenance; one on each
flank; and a frisking fifth pranking about his nose, seemingly having
something to say of a confidential nature. They were of a bright,
steel-blue color, alternated with jet black stripes; with glistening
bellies of a silver-white. Clinging to the back of the shark, were
four or five Remoras, or sucking-fish; snaky parasites, impossible to
remove from whatever they adhere to, without destroying their lives.
The Remora has little power in swimming; hence its sole locomotion is
on the backs of larger fish. Leech-like, it sticketh closer than a
false brother in prosperity; closer than a beggar to the benevolent;
closer than Webster to the Constitution. But it feeds upon what it
clings to; 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. A