The New Zealand Railways Magazine, Volume 6, Issue 3 (August 1, 1931)

Dolphin for the Parson

Dolphin for the Parson.

But shark can be made a quite passable dish for the pakeha—if you call it something else, as I am told they do in fish restaurants occasionally. Here is a tale that comes to mind told me once by a man who served as an apprentice in one of the old C. W. Turner fleet of sailing vessels trading out of Lyttelton. It was in the barque Cingalese, commanded by Captain Raddon; the barque was returning to New Zealand from a voyage to India.

One day, off the North Auckland coast in a calm spell the sailors caught a shark. Food was running rather short, and the mate suggested to the captain that possibly a portion of the shark might go down well enough by way of a change from the too salt-horse. There was one passenger on board, a missionary on furlough, and the mate thought his reverence could do with a bit of fish.

The captain allowed the mate to have his way, and next morning a savoury fish breakfast was set out in the cabin. “You serve it, mister,” said the captain, before the passenger came in. “I won't have it on my conscience, you understand.”

“Will you try a little dolphin, sir?” asked the mate when the reverend man sat down.

“Certainly,” said the passenger, “it will be quite a novelty to me. I have never tasted dolphin yet.”

“Excellent,” he said, when he had eaten his portion. “I never imagined dolphin would be so palatable, and so tender, too. May I trouble you for a little more?”

The second helping was just as acceptable, and the parson would probably have passed his plate for a third. Only, when the mate asked him, “Now, won't you try another little bit of shar—. I mean dolphin, sir?” His reverence cried, startled,

“Did you say shark, Mister Blank? Is it shark?”

And then the shark was out of the bag Amid roars of laughter, the poor man was told the truth by the hard-bitten and hard-biting sailors. All he said was, feebly,

“It was really very nice, you know, but I don't think I will have any more.” A few moments later he was up on deck.

The Maori tastes his shark for three days afterwards, as I have said. The Cingalese's passenger probably tasted his in imagination for a month. But let us leave the table and consider other things.