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114 Conquestfeet of motion for every one on deck.You feel like a ripe apple on a shakenbough.The second time up, however, you realizethat your supports are sound' andbegin to take pleasure in the heaving bluefloor beneath, stretched to a wider horizon,and open to the cold, salt winds,whose breath quickens the blood.That night we were in the steamshiplane and the blanket of fog returned.Lying in the path of ocean steamers ina fog at night, with nothing but a horn toannounce your presence, is little thoughtof by the fishermen, but is an experiencefor the landlubber. When the hoarsenote of a great liner draws near, all handsare called on deck. Perhaps a rusty shotgunis fired, or blue fire is burned. Witha flicker of light from her port-holes thegreat bulk roars past, and once more thewaters are left to emptiness and silence.Nothing is heard except the mysteriousmoaning of the swells. The crew goesbelow, leaving a solitary watchman ondeck. Phosphorescent gleams appear. Aschool of small fish laces the water withfire and a skipjack darts among themwith a trail like a flaming snake.The croak of some startled ocean birdis borne to your ears from the darknessand the rustle of wings is heard in the rigging.On either hand the racing whitecapsare swallowed in the night.It is then that the ocean draws on hercloak of unfathomable mystery, that nothingseems too mighty or too strange for thesea to perpetrate—that no monster wouldbe too uncouth to thrust its shadowy anddripping head above the bulwarks.Intimate acquaintance with the sea isonly to be had by vessels of small sizefurnished with sails. The fishermandares all kinds of weather; he remainsfor weeks at a time in the wilderness ofthe waters. Yachtsmen, sportsmen, andlovers of the sea in general would do wellto follow his example and pursue theswordfish during the summer months.Its habits, as well as its appearance, areas strange as those of the great oceandevil-fish. It is an enemy to the whale,a foe to the shark, a creature to be avoidedby its fellows, an antagonist to be reckonedwith by man. There are shownpieces of copper-sheathed ship's plankingwith broken swords embedded in them toa depth of eleven inches. Sloops of considerablesize have been damaged by itsattacks. But accidents in capturing it arerare.The swordfish is a game fish, thoughone that is little known. In the West itis caught on rod and reel, but the Westernvariety is different. Moreover, it is goodto eat—an essential quality. We maynot wish to consume what we kill; thereward of the chase ashore and afloat isoften disproportionate—but the fact thatour prey can appear upon our table doesaway with wantonness and gives the saltof purpose to hunting and fishing.CONQUESTBy Margaret SherwoodUP, for the march has begun!Forward and en ward the press!Swift move the hurrying ranks,Emerald file after file,Grasses and reeds of the marsh,Grasses of meadow and hill,Clover and buttercup bloomsLed by the dominant wind.Many-voiced the acclaimFrom myriad, murmuring leavesOf poplar and maple astir.Loud is the drum of the bee:Strong is the music and sweetPouring from jubilant throatsOf sparrow and glad bob-o-link.Bright are the pennons that waveFar in the radiant air,Gold of the brave fleur-de-lisSet in long banners of green,On to the conquest we move,An irresistible host,Thrilled by a single desire—The kingdom of beauty is won!