Part 19 (1/2)
”Wouldn't I? If I had one here now, you'd soon see.”
”But are they really good to eat?”
”Good to eat! I should think they are; and if you could but taste them yourself, _senorito_, you'd say so. A lightning eel's about the daintiest morsel I ever stuck teeth into; though they do have their dwelling-place in mud, and as some say, feed upon it. Before cooking them, however, something needs being done. You must cut away a portion of their flesh; the spongy part, which it's said gives them power to make their lightning play. In that lies the dangerous stuff, whatever sort of thing it is.”
”But what are they like, Gaspar? I've never seen one.”
It is Ludwig who still interrogates; but to his last question Cypriano, not Gaspar, gives the answer, saying:
”Oh, cousin! Do you mean to say you've never seen an electric eel?”
”Indeed do I. I've heard father speak of them often, and I know them by their scientific name, _gymnotus_. I believe there are plenty of them in the rivers of Paraguay; but, as it chances, I never came across one, either dead or alive.”
”I have,” says Cypriano, ”come across more than one, and many times.
But once I well remember; for an awkward circ.u.mstance it was to myself.”
”How so, _sobrino_?”
”Ah! that's a tale I never told you, Ludwig; but I'll tell it now, if you wish.”
”Oh I do wish it.”
”Well, near the little village where, as you know, I was born, and went to school before coming to live with uncle at a.s.suncion, there was a pond full of these fish. We boys used to amuse ourselves with them; sending in dogs and pigs, whenever we had the chance, to see the scare they would get, and how they scampered out soon as they found what queer company they'd got into. Cruel sport it was, I admit. But one day we did what was even worse than frightening either dogs or pigs; we drove an old cow in, with a long rope round her horns, the two ends of which we fastened to trees on the opposite sides of the pond, so that she had only a little bit of slack to dance about upon. And dance about she did, as the eels electrified her on every side; till at last she dropped down exhausted, and, I suppose, dead; since she went right under the water, and didn't come up again. I shall never forget her pitiful, ay, reproachful look, as she stood up to the neck, with her head craned out, as if making an appeal to us to save her, while we only laughed the louder. Poor thing! I can now better understand the torture she must have endured.”
”But is that the awkward circ.u.mstance you've spoken of?”
”Oh, no. _It_ was altogether another affair; and for me, as all the others, a more serious one. I hadn't come to the end of the adventure-- the unpleasant part of it--which was the chastis.e.m.e.nt we all got, by way of reward for our wickedness.”
”Chastis.e.m.e.nt! Who gave it to you?”
”Our worthy schoolmaster. It so chanced the old cow was his; the only one he had at the time giving milk. And he gave us such a thras.h.i.+ng!
Ah! I may well say, I've a lively recollection of it; so lively, I might truly think the punishment then received was enough, without the additional retribution the eels have this day inflicted on me.”
Cypriano's narration ended, his cousin, after a pause, again appeals to Gaspar to give him a description of the creatures forming the topic of their conversation. To which the gaucho responds, saying:--
”Well, Senor Ludwig, if you want to know what a lightning eel is like, take one of the common kind--which of course you've seen--a full-sized one; make that about ten times as thick as it is, without adding much to its length, and you'll have the thing, near as I can think it. So much for the reptile's bulk; though there are some both bigger round, and longer from head to tail. As for its colour, over the back it's a sort of olive green--just like _yerba_ leaves when they've been let stand a day or two after plucking. On the throat, and under the belly, it's paler, with here and there some blotches of red. I may tell you, however, that the lightning-eels change colour same as some of the lizards; partly according to their age, but as much from the sort of water they're found in--whether it be a clear running stream, or a muddy stagnant pond, such as the one Senor Cypriano has spoken of. Besides, there are several kinds of them, as we gauchos know; though, I believe, the _naturalutas_ are not aware of the fact. The most dangerous sort, and no doubt the same that's just attacked us, have broad heads, and wide gaping mouths full of sharp teeth, with flat tails and a pair of fins close to the nape of the neck. _Carramba_! they're ugly devils to look at, and still uglier to have dealings with; that is, when one's in the water alongside them--as we ourselves know. Still they don't always behave so bad, as these did to-day. When I crossed this stream before, with the _dueno_, neither he nor I felt the slightest shock to tell of eels being in it. I suppose it's the _tormenta_ that's set them a stirring. Like enough, there's some connection between their lightning and that of the sky. If so, that's what has quickened the brutes, and made them so mad. Well,” he adds, as if drawing his account to a conclusion, ”mad as they are, I'd like to have one frizzling over this fire.”
”But who eats them, Gaspar?” interrogates Ludwig, still incredulous on the question of their being a fit article of diet. ”I've never heard of their being eaten, nor brought to market like other fish.”
”Hundreds, thousands of people eat them, _hijo mio_. They're in great request in some places; ay, all over the country. Both whites and Indians relish them; but more especially the redskins. Some tribes prefer them to any other food, be it fish, flesh, or fowl; and make a regular business of catching them.”
”Ah! how are they caught?”
”There are various ways; but the usual one is by spearing them.
Sometimes the slippery fellows glide out of their mud beds and come to the surface of the water, as it were to amuse themselves by having a look round. Then the fisherman gets a chance at them, without any searching, or trouble. He is armed with a long pole of _cana brava_, one end having an iron point barbed like a spear. This, he launches at them, just as I've heard say whalers do their harpoons. For, if he kept the shaft in his hands, he'd catch it from their lightning, and get strokes that would stagger him. Still, he doesn't let go altogether; as there's a cord attached to the spear, and with that he can haul in the fish, if he has struck it. But he must have a care to keep his cord out of the water; if it gets wetted he'll have a fit of the trembles upon him, sure. For it's a fact--and a curious one you'll say, _senoritos_-- that a dry cord won't conduct the eel's lightning, while a wet one will.”
”It _is_ a fact,” says Ludwig, endorsing the statement. ”I've heard father speak of it.”
”Very singular,” observes Cypriano.