SHARK FIGHTS.

Manawatu Herald, Volume XLIV, Issue 2398, 28 February 1922, Page 1

SHARK FIGHTS.

FIJIAN USES KNIFE. “SLOW OLD THINO.” (By Eric Fairey, in the Sydney Sun) Jack Chalmers’ recent heroic attempt. to save a comrade l'rom death recalls to the writer a battle with a shark which ho witnessed some years ago in the coral seas. The old belief that a man-eating shark will not attack a native is not over-popular jvith the Fijian, who spends much of his time splashing about in the limpid waters that caress his native shores. He has a great respect for this scavenger of the coral reef, gliding and darting in and out through the twilight of submarine caves, and will always make way for him shoflTd both be traversing a narrow pathway of the ocean. Ami yet the Fijian can be fearless in giving, battle to this bloodhound of the seas, and now and (hen will seek him out to tight a battle in some silent coral pool. But this is not a popular sport, and is ravelv witnessed.

A TOREADOR. The first toreador of the coral reef to whom I was introduced was a mere slip of a girl. Veevai lived at the northern end of Tavinuni, one of those dusky maidens who are such an asset to the island romanticist. Her face was delicately featured, and was lit up by two large, expressive eyes. Her knowledge of the coral reef made her invaluable to the curio collector, and‘through her I was enriched with many strange shells and objects of beauty when we explored the reef at low tide. -

One afternoon as we bent over tin' ocean side of the reef Veevai pointed down at the cool depths where a large grey shark patrolled the coral wall. Almost before I could realise what was taking place, Veevpi had slipped off her sulu, and, with a knife blade vicing with the. glint of herjvorv teeth, was propelling her brown body with queer contortions of her white-soled feet down to where the shark grimly glided.

Perhaps 30 seconds passed, when there was a stirring and thrashing of waters; blood stained its blue surface, and as I looked for the mangled body of Veevai, her curly head shot up to the sunlight, and a pair of slim, childlike hands gripped the ledge of sharp coral where I stood, eager to life the light body up to safety. , KNIFE-RIPPED^

The thrashing of the water continued; its bloodstains increased; and presently the shark I had seen down below exposed a white, kniferipped belly, as its dying body feebly twisted.

Veevai made light of her apparently foolhardy performance, which was solely for my entertainment, and drolly remarked that a shark was a slow old thing, as it had to turn on its back to strike. Knowing that she was as a Hash of lightning when in the water, I began to feel sorry for the sharks of Tavinui.

I once asked a Fijian boy of Mbau how he had come to lose several of his foes. Ilis story of their loss was that he had been attacked by two sharks when swimming from island to island —about three miles. He had fought them oil with a knife, but, before he finally despatched them with death thrusts, he lost his toes. He explained that they were small sharks, and made small bites. I experienced difficulty in obtaining details of the light. No doubt he was too terrified at the time to remember the horror of those moments when the hounds of the seas tracked him down.