Page 345 - The Tigris Expedition

From Asia to Africa; from Mcluhha to Punt
The morning harvest had mounted to forty by the time we stopped
counting and accepted whatever flew on board as part of a normal
routine in what our German companion Detlef, versed in the stories
of Munchhausen, termed the Schlaraffcn-Sce (the Sea of Luxury).
The first fish to rush for a hook baited with fresh flying-fish was
the dolphin, the surface hunter and raft companion of all warm seas.
Again, the multi-coloured fish dolphin, Coryphacna hippuras, also
known as dorado, gold mackerel and mahimahi, must not be
confused with the little whale of the mammalian family
Delphinidac. Fish dolphins had followed us before, notably in the
Pacific. We had only two or three with us as we left Pakistan; they
never went for any hook, and only Asbjorn and Detlef had success
with spears. But from the day we had the first flying-fish to put on
the hook we had dolphin dinner whenever we wanted, and, no
matter what we pulled up from the sea, next day the number of
dolphins swimming around us had increased.
On 16 February I made a note that I had never seen so many fish at
sea. On the 18th Gherman and Toru swam under Tigris to film the
variety of fish species that had joined us by then, and among them
were twenty dolphins, in spite of all our fishing. Next night their
numbers had passed thirty. With our flashlights they were easily
distinguishable from other fish in our company. We kept on
fishing, and at intervals I kept adding a note to my diary that never
had so many fish swum with us in any sea as now.
At midnight on the 26th I crawled drowsily out of the cabin to
take over my steering watch, and got a veritable start as I faced a
completely spooky sea. Toru was out before me, playing with his
torch over the surface, and his beam did not reveal the usual black
night ocean. Just below the surface ghost-like, lifeless bodies stood
side by side everywhere, keeping exactly our speed and course, yet
motionless as if they were mere reflections of something on board.
Dolphins. But never had we seen them in such numbers, and they
did not circle about in lively fashion as we were used to seeing, but
just stood there like an army of white ski-troopers, escorting us
motionless and effortlessly as if gliding down-hill on black snow.
Normally we swam with the friendly dolphins, but this silent,
uninvited entourage was packed so close and in such impressive
numbers that I should have hated falling into the water.
As morning came the dolphins spread out over the surrounding
sea. But as soon as the sun set they came back to us. Two nights later
their number had passed three hundred. Colourful in daylight, they
became pallid ghosts again by night. Broad in profile but slender
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