Tim Severin - The Sindbad Voyage

The shark must have swallowed the bait in the early hours ofdarkness the previous night, because the animal was utterly exhausted by thetime we noticed the wire-taut fishing line in the first glimmer of dawn. With awhoop of triumph several men ran to the rail of the ship, grabbed the fishingline, and began to haul it in hand over hand. When the 7-foot-long torpedoshape of the shark broke the surface of the sea, the creature began to thrashback and forth in desperation as it suffocated in the thin air. The waterchurned up into a foam around the shark's flailingbody, and as the fishing line was not strong enough to pull the sharkvertically out of the water, a long pole with a crude hook on its end was pokedcautiously towards the writhing animal. The hook slithered back and forth onthe shark's glistening wet skin, seeking one of the vulnerable openings, aneye, a gill slit, or the mouth. But there was an error. Heaving with a finalburst of panic, the shark threw the whole weight of its body down on the polejust as it lay across the fishing line. The taut line snapped under the strain,and the shark fell back into the sea, hung there for an instant, and with aslow exhausted roll sank back into the ocean.

'Blast!' said a voice. 'I was looking forward to fresh sharksteak for breakfast.'

'Did you see the remora fish sticking to its belly?' askedsomeone else. 'It must have been at least r6 inches long.'

'I wonder how long we've been towing him behind us,' said athird voice. 'It looked like a white-tip shark to me.'

The group of men who had been standing at the rail of the shipbegan to disperse. They were a strange-looking band by any standards, I thoughtto myself as I watched them. The colours of their skins ranged from a richebony black to a raw sunburned pink. Most of them were naked to the waist, andall had bare feet. A few wore shorts, but the majority were dressed inloincloths. At least half their number were heavily bearded, and this, togetherwith the fact that they wore turbans and carried sheath knives dangling attheir belts, gave them a distinctly piratical air, so that once again Imarvelled at the romantic, almost unreal, nature of my surroundings. Was Ireally in the twentieth century, or was I imagining myself back in an earliertime? Despite the solid feel of the wooden planking beneath my feet, the wholesituation had a dreamlike quality. A tropical sea of startling blue stretchedout to the horizon on every side, and was marked by the clean wake of the shipdrawn across it. Ahead of the vessel a small flock of seabirds was wheeling andcalling out excitedly as they peered down into the depths, hoping to catch theglint of small fish disturbed by the motion of our passage. A warm monsoonbreeze filled the graceful curves of the three distinctive sails, triangular inshape, which billowed above my head. The largest of these sails was immense, agreat expanse of canvas held aloft by a single spar as long as the shipherself, which slanted dramatically upward at a rakish angle. In the centre ofeach sail was a bright scarlet emblem - two crossed swords and a hooked dagger- which showed that the ship belonged to an Arab sultan, and his country'sflag, green, red and white, fluttered at the ship's flagstaff mounted on therudderhead behind me.