Sharko-marking.

Personally I have never exchanged reminiscences with a Mako on the hoof, or crossed blades with a sword-fish; but the weight of evidence seems to point to the fact that the Jonah affair was a very wan encounter when compared with sharko-marking, or vice versa. Undoubtedly Jonah was wrapped up in his whale, but could he have left such a mark on a Mako? Makoing is no pastime for a Jonah.

A friend of mine who has spent some time and money in the Bay of Lie-lands, tells me that Mako-sharking is the most intoxicating of the liquid vices; when the Mak-ologist slings his hook he never knows what he is going to bring up, especially if the sea is over-emotional; in fact, the beginner is advised to keep his boots securely laced. My fishing friend succeeded in saving His sole, but that was practically the only ballast he found when he called the roll.

He asserts that the Mako is a gregarious guy who craves human companionship so avidly that he often attempts to climb aboard for a bite and sup. Such affection, however, is looked on by the more generously upholstered sportsman as smacking of the flesh spots; but the Mako's passion for human companionship is so marked that he sometimes helps himself to a bite of the boat, in order to “get closer” to his clients; elevating his countenance, he seems to say “Let's get together boys, something deep down inside me seems to tell me that you and I will agree; nothing makes me ill, anyway.”

That sharko-marking is an uncertain sort of pastime is evidenced by the fact that the Mark-operator is strapped into his arm-chair so that the Mako will not get him all at once, if something in the Mako-catching mechanism slips a cog.

Unfortunately my informant's narrative ends abruptly here, because suddenly a realisation of the abysmal futility of fishing, and the vanity of all things venal gripped him amidships. So he sank wanly abaft the bulwarks and communed with the anchor.