The "Country Life" Library of Sport - Fishing - Second Volume

PART I

1.—TARPON OFF THE COAST OF FLORIDA.

CHAPTER I

THE TARPONS AND THE GAR-FISH

By G. A. BOULENGER, F.R.S., V.P.Z.S.

THE TARPONS (Elopidæ).

THESE fishes belong to the sub-order Malacopterygii, of which we have given a short definition in dealing with the salmon family, and they have often been associated with the herrings in zoological classifications. But they differ from the herrings in several important characters, such as the presence of an intergular bone, situated between the branches of the lower jaw, and the very high number of branchiostegal rays (over 20) supporting the gill-membranes, and of rays in the ventral fins (10 to 16), characters by which they approach the ganoid fishes which flourished in Mesozoic times. From the point of view of the evolution of fish types, the Elopidæ are a group of particular interest, being the survivors of a family very richly represented in Cretaceous seas, and now reduced to two genera, Elops and Megalops, each with two species, which may be regarded as the most archaic Teleostean fishes living.

The tarpon (Megalops), distinguished by very large scales and the prolongation of the last ray of the dorsal fin, is represented by the well-known species, M. atlanticus, in the West Atlantic, and by M. cyprinoides in the Indian Seas. The genus Elops, which differs in the smaller scales and the normal form of the dorsal fin, contains also two species, one of which, E. saurus, is distributed over all the warm and tropical seas, whilst the second, E. lacerta, is confined to the west coast of Africa, entering rivers. The young, at least those of the Elops, undergo metamorphoses somewhat similar to those of the eels; they are for a time elongate, band-shaped, and more or less transparent, after which stage they become gradually shorter and more compact, until they assume the proportions of the perfect fish.

THE TARPON (Megalops atlanticus) has much the appearance of a huge herring. The body is oblong and compressed, covered with very large, thick, silvery smooth scales, of which there are about 40 in the lateral line; the mouth is very large, extending backwards beyond the eye, and furnished with minute, villiform teeth, which also extend on the palate and on the tongue; the dorsal fin is short and high, inserted behind the vertical of the ventral fins, its last ray much produced, longer than the head; the anal fin is longer and falcate, the caudal deeply forked. The fish, when alive, has a very brilliant silvery appearance, except on the back, which is green, and its huge scales, over two inches in diameter, are much prized by visitors to Florida and for fancy work in the curiosity shops, selling, as the late Professor Brown Goode tells us, for from ten to twenty-five cents each, the price paid to the fishermen being about fifty cents per dozen. The flesh is not valued. The tarpon reaches a length of six feet and a weight of 110 lbs.;¹ it occurs in the Western Atlantic and in the Gulf of Mexico, ranging north to Cape Cod and south to Northern Brazil; it is rather abundant in the West Indies, and it has been taken as far to the eastward as the Bermudas; in pursuit of schools of young fry, on which it preys eagerly, it ascends rivers quite a long distance, having been reported from several miles up the rivers of the Gulf coast.

The name tarpon, or tarpund, by which the fish is known on the coasts of Florida and Georgia, is probably of Indian origin. Silver-fish is another name in use at Pensacola, whilst at other places it is the Grande-Écaille (big-scale), the Sabalo or the Savanilla. In Georgia and Florida, according to Brown Goode, it is commonly called the Jew-fish, a name also applied by the fishermen to the gigantic sea-perches of the genus Epinephelus.

THE BONY-FISH (Elops saurus) is a more elongate fish, with small, thin, silvery scales, numbering about ioo in the lateral line; the mouth is not quite so large; the dorsal fin originates above the base of the ventrals, which are formed of more numerous rays (15 or 16 instead of 10), and the anal is shorter than the dorsal.

Elops saurus does not exceed a length of three feet. It has a very wide range, being found in nearly all the tropical seas, extending northwards to China, the Gulf of California, and the Gulf of Mexico, even straying on the Atlantic coast to Long Island, southwards to the Cape of Good Hope. It is an active fish, and its wild jumps when hooked afford lively sport to the tarpon-fishers in Florida. Its qualities as a game-fish are only beginning to be appreciated.

Besides that of bony-fish, Elops saurus is known by the vernacular names of Ten Pounder, John-Mariggle, Big-eyed Herring, Piojo, Liza, Francesca, &c.

The Bony-Fish should not be confounded with the Bone-Fish of Americans, better known as the Lady Fish, which is also appreciated as a game-fish by those who are familiar with it. This lady-fish or bone-fish, Albula vulpes, belongs to a distinct, though closely related family, and is easily distinguished from the tarpons by the small, inferior mouth, the scales forming regular longitudinal series, and the dorsal fin originating well in advance of the vertical of the ventral fins. Like Elops saurus it grows to a length of three feet. Its flesh, unlike that of the latter, is highly appreciated at Key West.

THE GAR-FISH (Belone)

The gar-fish, with its near allies the saury (Hemirhamphus) and the flying fish (Exocoetus), which are associated under the family Scombresocidœ, represents a group of Teleosteans of the sub-order Percesoces, named Pharyngognathi on account of the union of the lower pharyngeal bones, a character which we find repeated among some perches and in all the wrasses. The fins are devoid of spines, and the ventral fins are inserted far back, as in the lower Teleosteans, but the air-bladder is closed, as in the cods, perches, and other types with spines in the fins. The systematic position of the Percesoces, embracing the Scombresocids, the sand-eels (Ammodytes), the atherines, the grey mullets, and the climbing perch (Anabantidæ), of India and Africa, is indeed intermediate between the pike and the perches, as the name implies, and a graduated series can be formed between the two extremes.

In our gar-fish (Belone vulgaris), the body is much elongate, feebly compressed, covered with small, thin scales; both jaws are prolonged into a long beak, bearing very numerous small, sharp teeth; the lower beak terminates in a fleshy appendage; the top of the head is quite flat and the eye perfectly lateral. The pectoral fins are short and pointed, inserted rather high up the sides; the ventral fins are inserted midway between them and the caudal fin, which is forked; the dorsal and anal fins are opposite to each other and far back. The lateral line is remarkable in being double, a second one running along each side of the belly in addition to that of the middle of the side. When fresh the gar-fish is of a beautiful sea-green or bluish-green above, paler, with iridescent hues on the sides, and silvery white beneath. The bones are green, a curious peculiarity, which in many localities causes prejudice against eating this excellent fish.

The changes which take place, with growth, in the shape of the head are very remarkable. In the young under one inch the beak is not yet developed, the snout being quite obtuse and the lower jaw a little longer; as the fish grows, the lower jaw increases in length, whilst the upper remains short, and such specimens in which the lower jaw is several times longer than the upper resemble the saury (Hemirhamphus), as a species of which they have been described.

Belone vulgaris, which grows to a length of three feet, is widely distributed on the coasts of Europe, from Iceland and Scandinavia to the Mediterranean. It often approaches the shores in great bands, and makes itself conspicuous by its leaps over the surface of the water, shooting out almost upright, as represented in Mr. Turner-Turner’s book on the Fishes of Florida.¹ Mr. J. T. Cunningham has recently ascertained that the gar-fish feeds to a great extent on the sand-eel, and he is of opinion that the proper function of the beak is to penetrate the sand in pursuit of these fish, which, as we all know, burrow in the sand by means of the projecting lower jaw. As Mr. Cunningham observes, the beak of the Belone is well adapted for probing the sand; the flexible tip of the fish’s beak is doubtless a sensitive tactile organ, while the narrow toothed upper jaw is eminently fitted for seizing and holding the slippery and agile prey.

The gar-fish goes by the names of sea-needle, green-bone, sword-fish, horn-eel, and gerrick, in various localities.

¹ Mr. Turner-Turner, it will be seen, gives it a much more liberal weight.—ED.

¹ When thus leaping, the large species of the Tropics are said to be a source of danger to incautious fishermen, their long, sharp snout sometimes piercing the naked bodies of the savages.

CHAPTER II

TARPON AND OTHER BIG FISHES OF FLORIDA

By J. TURNER-TURNER

OUR once well-stocked rivers are rapidly declining both in volume and fish. The former, in consequence of improved systems of drainage and increased consumption of water; the latter, by over-netting and pollution. Such as still afford sport are safely guarded by those whose ample fortune permits them to pay enormous rents, and be content with often small returns.

Where, then, shall we of humble means find waters wherein, at moderate cost, we may successfully cast a fly? Shall we try the once free rivers of Norway? All are taken up. The wilds of Canada? Here, too, all within easy reach are secured. Iceland? Well, perhaps. The fact is, the ordinary individual must say good-bye to salmon and trout fishing, so far as filling in a holiday is concerned. An occasional never-to-be-forgotten day he may yet enjoy through the generosity of a friend, but for most of us the salmon or trout river worth fishing has faded into the hazy past. We must look around for the next best substitute, and a by no means mean one may be found in Florida, well within the reach of the man with a couple of months’ holiday, and as many hundreds of pounds to spend on it. Not a large price either as sport goes, with a month’s thorough enjoyment, with guaranteed sport, and of this one consolation we may rest assured—no sport at all can be guaranteed at home; not even for the payment of a thousand down.

In this respect a distinct advantage lies with the humbler man, with his modest two hundred pounds, which will carry him some eight thousand miles, provide him with board and lodging, man and boat, give him an insight into an unknown and wildly interesting country, and a pleasant healthy life under a cloudless sky in a semi-tropical climate, and finally afford him at least a month’s undreamedof sport—fishing, fishing, always fishing, and what is more, always catching something, the only uncertainty being as to what will hook on next, and whether it will measure fourteen feet, or as many inches, or even less; true fishing too, with rod and line finer than that ordinarily in use for pike.

Is this kind of fishing sport? Why, certainly it is, and if it does not call for the skill of the salmon fisher, it fully compensates by bringing into action other qualifications quite as exciting for the time being; and the time being is frequently much longer than convenient.

When we were young a day’s sport seemed too short, but in after life it sometimes proves too long. Now, in Florida, the slack tides are all too short, even for old people, who, by the way, are just as well able to enjoy themselves, sitting comfortably in the arm-chair of a boat, as are the more youthful generation. Florida welcomes all to her flat muddy bosom, and is gracious to old and young alike, providing ample sport for all. Away then to Florida, the land of orange groves and coons, pine apples and crabs, great palms and little terrapins, orchids and pelicans, aerial plants and alligators, bad water, moccasin snakes, and the biggest rattlers in the world. What a mixture, but the list might be greatly increased, so far, at any rate, as creepy creatures are concerned.

Modern science has brought the fishing grounds of Florida within such convenient reach that a man might easily walk down Piccadilly on the first of May and find himself wrestling with a tarpon on the twelfth.

On reaching New York, an early call on Vom Hofe, the unrivalled tackle maker of America, will place the sportsman in possession of all he needs for every description of fishing or harpooning, and although he will pay a high price for a good outfit, he will not regret having done so. English makers do not seem to realise the enormous strain their tackle will be called upon to resist; he, therefore, who equips himself at home will surely mourn the loss of many heavy fish, to say nothing of broken rods, reels, lines, and hooks.

Having placed himself unreservedly in the hands of Vom Hofe, a noted fisherman himself, the sportsman, after paying his bill of from £15 to £20, will find himself provided with no more than he requires, and with material of such excellent quality and workmanship that for a second expedition he will need only new lines and hooks. From New York tickets should be procured for Punta Gorda via Jacksonville, and from Punta Gorda a steamer leaves daily for Useppa Island, where, in three hours, the journey ends. Useppa is a tiny island, so to speak, in the centre of the best tarpon ground of Florida. The only habitations are a private house and the small, very comfortable hotel, which is run exclusively in the interests of fishermen. Guides, boats, bait, and steam-launches are provided at a cost not exceeding 32s. a day, inclusive of board and lodging. The hotel is situated between the two celebrated passes of Boca Grande and Captiva, which are about six miles apart, and in which all the important fishing takes place. The character of the passes differs widely; at Boca Grande you drift through the pass, on the slack of the tide, fishing up and down with some forty feet of line out and a heavy sinker in about fifty feet of water. This pass is only fishable during slack tide, and just before and after it. You hook a much larger percentage of fish here for each individual strike; but for real sport it does not compare with Captiva, a much smaller pass, where you harl as you would loch-fishing, except that you can only manage one rod at a time, using no sinker, and with the bait close to the top of the water, while the guide rows about in likely places. Captiva is much shallower than Boca Grande, and fishing lasts longer—just so long, in fact, as a man is capable of holding his own against the increasing force of the tide, and even after that the boat can be anchored and the bait trailed out behind, often with good results. The number of fish lost, however, is appalling; strike after strike fails to hold, and when the hook at last seems well home, a jump or so sends it flying in the air. It is no unusual experience to lose eight fish out of nine, for those great herrings have marvellously bony mouths, which can be penetrated by a hook in a few places only. Unfortunately tarpon fishing calls for little skill, but the lack of this is somewhat compensated for by luck. There exists a far greater dependence upon luck at Captiva than at Boca Grande, and the style of fishing at the former is more sporting. Hence those who have tried both places on good days forsake Boca Grande for Captiva, which is also more pleasing to look upon and nearer the hotel.

2.—SIX TARPON IN A DAY.

3.—A LADY’S CATCH.

May is the best month for tarpon fishing, although good sport may be obtained earlier if the weather is warm enough. In June the rainy season sets in, and it becomes hot, while the fish, being heavy with spawn, play sluggishly and show poor sport. The novice is nearly certain to be recommended to try the old original style of still fishing, but he will be well advised to turn a deaf ear to such persuasion; it is dull dreary work, usually resulting in the hooking of many sharks and few tarpon. Tarpon run to over 200 lbs., but a 160-lb. fish is a good one, and worthy of the taxidermist’s attention if a trophy is desired. That very useful artist, the taxidermist, is migratory in Florida, and usually to be found in a tent somewhere along the shore not far from the fishing quarters, in the month of April.

Let us take a bird’s-eye view of a typical day’s fishing at Captiva during the third week in May, in a season when the tarpon have shown a preference for this pass, as all seasons are not alike in this respect, owing probably to the shifting of the sand-banks at the mouth of the pass.

There are many boats on to-day containing both men and women, for women have taken up this class of fishing with a surprising eagerness, and considering the great tax it must be upon their strength, are wonderfully successful in landing tarpon. Fishing has hardly commenced when some one gets a strike; up goes 150 lbs. of shining silvery fish, six feet into the air. With a vicious shake of the head, away flies the hook and down plunges the tarpon into his natural element. The whole pass seems alive with them as they show their gleaming sides or green backs while sporting in small schools. First one boat and then another gets a strike, but all the fish shake themselves free with a few vigorous jumps. See, there is a man who, having a heavy strike, is holding his fish with such force that it is a marvel his rod can stand the strain; the line suddenly slacks, and a dull thud is heard when the tarpon breaks water alongside the boat. He has lost him; but what is amiss? The guide is pulling for the shore with all his might, while the fisherman is throwing water from the boat in a frantic manner. The boat seems to be sinking fast, and doubtless the terrified occupants have uncomfortable visions of hungry sharks snatching big bites of human flesh. The fact is that that tarpon was so scared at being held, that in his haste to jump he failed to see the boat and rammed his hard nose clean through her. It is a new boat too, the pride of its guide, but there is now a round hole, seven inches in diameter, in the bottom, and the two disconsolate occupants stand gazing gloomily as she rests upon the sandy shore, knowing that for them the day’s sport is ended. The others continue fishing as if nothing unusual had happened, for tarpon often jump into boats when hooked, and a hundred pounds or so of slippery fish charging you in the centre of the body is no rarity.

There is a man who has at last firmly hooked his fish; how magnificently it plays, dashing off with eighty yards of line, suddenly it makes a great jump and comes straight back for the boat. Pull like mad! cries the fisherman to his guide, as he finds it impossible to reel in quick enough. Up comes the tarpon ahead of the boat, but there is no shaking that hook out, and in about twenty minutes a 140-lb. fish lies stranded and kicking among the shells, while the lucky fisher wipes his more than moist brow.

Every one seems to be getting strikes, but only occasionally is a fish landed. There goes a man in the distance who for upwards of an hour has been steadily moving out to sea; he is fast in a 300-lb. jew-fish; we may expect to see him back in another hour or more, towing what resembles a great barrel.

Puff goes a loggerhead turtle as he rises close to a boat to take a breath of fresh air, and then subsides with a gurgle. These often get foul of a hook and are no child’s play to land. This ain’t no sprat, cries an excited American lady as she lies back in her chair, hauling at some unseen monster.

There goes another man out to sea, at a fairly good pace too; he has a shark on, and if it is a large one it will occupy all his leisure time for the remainder of the day unless he cuts his line. About a score of tarpon have been beached and the ladies seem to be quite as successful as the men.

Besides tarpon many other varieties of fish are being caught, the most sporting of which is the handsome kingfish, a mighty mackerel of 40 lbs. weight.

If a tarpon could put into his first few rushes a force equivalent to that of the kingfish, it is more than doubtful whether any man or line could hold him. What mighty leaps those kingfish take before being hooked as they dash after the beautiful little skipjacks, which they fling high into the air, shooting up twenty feet themselves in sheer sport.

But what is this coming down the centre of the pass raising a mound of water with fifteen feet of small breakers in front of it? It is one of the giant rays, a huge bird-like fish, with great wing-shaped fins 20 feet across, and a slim whip-like tail 6 feet in length. Surely few stranger fish than this exist, with a mouth large enough to swallow two men at once; and great fans on either side of it to conduct the tiny things upon which it feeds to their last resting-place. But oh for a harpoon! Has no one such a thing? Yes, there is a man hastily reeling in his line; quickly he makes all snug and takes up his position in the bow of the boat where his long rope lies neatly coiled all ready for such an emergency.

A couple of minutes suffice to connect the harpoon and shaft, and now the ever-keen guide is racing with all his might to catch up with the ray, which, although flapping his huge wings drowsily, is really progressing at a considerable pace. Soon they are pressing him closely, and the man standing erect in the bows with harpoon poised makes a vigorous lunge. The harpoon flies through the air, there is a mighty commotion as the huge fish rears up and descends; with the rattle of a cable the rope whirls over the gunwale and the man eagerly grasps it in his hand, but although protected by the thickest of leather hedging gloves, the leather is burned through in a second, and the man plunges both hands into the sea for moisture. Then after a second trial the speeding rope is gradually checked, until the boat tears through the water, while waves break over the bow as the monster, having turned, makes through the pass for the open sea. Most of the other fishers at last display some interest in another’s difficulties, all those anywhere near reeling up in undisguised haste while endeavouring to clear the way. Away they go, those two men in a boat with the devil in harness, bound for no one knows where; the last heard of them is a shout to send the steamer, and gradually they become but a speck on the horizon.

4.—LANDING A TARPON

5.—FISHING FOR SHARK—FLORIDA.

When about four miles out in the gulf, the fish suddenly alters his course to due north, and finally enters Boca Grande Pass. Here are many more fishers who greet the apparition with jeers and shouts; most beat a hasty retreat, but some of the keener succeed in making fast to the stern of the harpooner’s boat, for the pace is now much reduced. Through Boca Grande the course is changed direct for Captiva, but on the east side of the island which had lately been passed on the west; hence they are making a complete circuit of an island some six miles in length, and alas! the steamer which has already put to sea to hunt for them is being hunted itself. Back they go into Captiva Pass through which a strong tide is now running, and out once more into the gulf. The strain of four boats, combined with the rough handling of the somewhat exhausted harpooner, has had its effect upon the great fish, whose efforts at escape become greatly reduced, until finally he is lifted sufficiently to enable the harpooner to place a well-directed Winchester bullet in the place where his brain should be. The fish is now completely hors de combat, so too are the boats, for with their united efforts they cannot even move this mass of flesh, which is still drifting with them out to sea. Anxiously they search for the steamer, but she has evidently given up the hunt and daylight is failing. Two of the boats which had hitched on have already forsaken them, for the Gulf with its treacherous storms is no place wherein to pass the night in a 14-feet open boat.

Reluctantly the harpooner decides to cut adrift, for unaided by a steamer these rays cannot be landed. Down sinks the great water-bird with a severed line, to provide an ample meal for ever-prowling sharks, and the three remaining boats work wearily homewards against a heavy tide. Such sport as here described may be experienced every day at this time of year, but giant ray are scarce in these passes although plentiful close by.

On days when for any reason tarpon fishing is abandoned, much sport with a fly rod may be enjoyed either from boat or shore; the latter is preferable, for casting from a small boat on the sea is not an unqualified success, although some of the fly-taking fish, such as the mackerel and its beautiful cousin the jackfish, are seldom reached from land. From the shore, however, slim, silvery ladyfish can be caught in numbers; they are strong fighters, nimble, and active, equalling any fish in their jumping proclivities, and well worthy of the fly-fisher’s attention. So, too, are the so-called trout, handsome, spotted fish, weighing eight or more pounds, and hard fighters on fair tackle; but unfortunately there is in Florida too much pole fishing with wire casts for true sport with these game fish. Even when not on fishing bent, to wander along the shell bestrewn shores of the Florida Islands is no dull occupation. After a storm, many queer, hitherto unknown fish and other objects of interest will appeal to the lover of Nature as they lie cast dead or dying on the beach; curious spotted eels, or serpents as they are called, are frequent, with odd crawling creatures with fins, which yet cannot swim, and little meddlesome ghost-crabs darting wildly hither and thither on the tips of their hind toes, the rest of their uncanny white legs held high aloft, and long movable eyes ogling round corners.

In May the turtles frequent these sandy beaches at night to lay their eggs, which the little coons come and eat. The curious horse-shoe crabs pass their honeymoons half in and half out of the sea where it meets the shore, and the little coons come and eat them too. Portions of the coast are inhabited by countless millions of fiddler crabs, which spend most of their time in the hot sun away from water; the whole shore seethes with a rustling sound as they scuttle away on being disturbed. Nothing on land appears to care for the taste of these dry-looking, gaudy-shelled little scavengers; but sheepsheads and different fish take them better than any other bait. These islands, of which there are many hundreds, although unprepossessing from without, are of great beauty and interest in their interiors. There is usually some sort of trail to be found along which one may wander among high palms, cacti, ferns, and large trees festooned with aerial plants.

Few birds are met with except in the regular rookeries or breeding-places, and the ordinary signs of life are restricted to gopher and tortoise holes and the occasional wide track through the sand of a six-foot rattlesnake. Now and then a giant woodpecker suddenly leaves a tree trunk, and the call of the Whip-poor-Will resounds along the shore. All else is silent, save when a little blue heron, disturbed from some grassy swamp, flaps heavily seawards. These islands would prove charming places wherein to lazy away a few hours were it not for the prickly pears and mosquitoes.

Long before the existence of the few remaining Indians a tribe inhabited these regions. Their weapons were constructed of huge fossil sharks’ teeth, seven inches in length, and of rudely fashioned stones, which can still be dug out of the burial mounds of ancient human bones. The skulls of the first residents are abnormally thick, and their bones large. Such places can be examined on days which are too stormy for fishing; thus never a weary moment need trouble the sportsman in Florida.

To some, harpooning is an attractive sport wherein there is much to learn, and which admits of great variety from saw-fish to green turtles.

Let us follow an adept in the art as he starts out for a day with his favourite weapon. From the moment of entering the boat, the harpooner takes up a standing position in the bow, always looking into the deep water or out ahead; his guide rows as though his head were fixed on the wrong way, for it is ever turned to the front, and with marvellous precision he locates a fish which is sometimes unseen by the man who stands. Presently the harpooner cries, To the left, pull hard. Down shoots the harpoon, out flies the line, and he is fast in a seven-foot whip ray. Away darts the ray, far more powerful for its size than its relation, the giant ray; for a few moments it fairly taxes the man’s strength, but finally it is overcome and hauled up on to an oyster-bar, where its remarkable, slim, seven-foot tail, no thicker than a pencil, is hacked off as a trophy; next, the curious grinding stones which serve as teeth are extracted from its jaws, and a splendid piece of beautiful black skin, spotted with white rings, is also retained for future use. These fish may be seen in the distance jumping like great kites yards into the air, as they throw off the too persistent suckers which cling to them. While the whip ray is being operated upon, several sharks attracted by the blood have been swimming backwards and forwards, their presence marked by the dorsal fin above water.

Among them is a 17-feet hammer-head upon which the harpooner has had his eye for some time, and after which he now proceeds; straight towards the boat comes the hammer-head, his huge proportions denoting an unusually fine specimen, but he comes straight on, not noticing the boat, and passes away astern. The harpooner had not dared to strike him head on, and lost his chance for ever. Soon a common shark is seen and successfully approached. The harpoon and part of the shaft is buried in his side, he lashes the water with rage and seizes the shaft between his formidable teeth, breaking it short off; he cuts the rope clean in two at the same time, and escapes with a bran-new harpoon in his flesh, which probably causes him no more inconvenience than would a sucker.

A fresh harpoon is quickly fixed, and the hunt continues; in half-an-hour the man in the bow cries, look out, and down goes the harpoon, straight into the dark