t on that coast this dreaded fish
appears singly; it is rare to see two of them together; while Santiago
harbor seems to swarm with them, the dark dorsal fin of the
threatening creatures just parting the surface of the sea, and
betraying their presence. Lying at anchor between our ship and the
shore was a trig Spanish corvette,--an American-built vessel, by the
way, though belonging to the navy of Spain. It was curious at times to
watch her crew being drilled in various martial manoeuvres. While an
officer was exercising the men at furling topsails, a few days before
our arrival, a foretopman fell from aloft into the sea. Under
ordinary circumstances and in most waters, the man could easily have
been saved, but not so in this instance. He did not even rise to the
surface. A struggle for portions of his body between half a dozen
ravenous sharks was observed alongside the corvette, and all was
quickly over. The foretopman had been torn limb from limb and
instantly devoured.

The over-stimulated brain felt no inclination for sleep on this first
night in the harbor, the situation was so novel, and the night itself
one to suggest poetic thoughts. The moon was creeping slowly across
the blue vault, like a great phantom mingling with the lambent purity
of the stars. We sat silently watching the heavens, the water, and the
shore; saw the lights go out one after another among the clustering
dwellings, and the street gas-burners shut off here and there, until
by and by the drowsy town was wrapped in almost perfect darkness. Only
the ripple of the sea alongside the ship broke the silence, or the
sudden splash of some large fish, leaping out of and falling back into
the water. It seemed as though no sky was ever before of such
marvelous blue depth, no water so full of mystery, no shore so clad in
magic verdure, and no night ever of such resplendent clearness. The
landing-steps and grating had been rigged out from a broad porthole on
the spar deck, where a quartermaster was awaiting the return of the
purser and a party of gentlemen who were making late, or rather early,
hours on shore; for it was nearly two o'clock in the morning, and the
weary seaman, who had sat down at his post on the grating, was snoring
like a wheezy trombone. The measured tread fore and aft of the second
officer, who kept the anchor watch, was the only evidence of
wakefulness that disturbed our lonely mood. A similar night scene was
vividly called to mind as