devil-fish, giving the whole weight of his body to the force of the stroke!’’ As
the manta accelerated and the harpoon line tightened, May leaped in the
direction of the boat and was safely pulled aboard ‘‘by his fellow-blackies,
who were delighted at his exploit’’ (Elliott reflected that had May ‘‘belonged
to the Saxon or Norman race, he had probably been knighted, and allowed
to quarter on his shield the horns of the devil-fish’’) (–). Elliot, shield-
bearer of the first Port Royal hunter-prince, was unwilling (obviously) to
emancipate May post mortem but celebrated him in print, instead. The un-
usual tribute, sad to say, merely perpetuated simultaneously the narrative
ritual and raison d’être of sport and another master-class litany of loyal
servitude. Meanwhile the grandfather and his merry crew had a ride. The
manta towed the barge and men. Someone sounded a bugle, and neighbors
scrambled into their own vessels and tied up alongside the Elliott barge. At
one point, as the caravan approached the beach under manta power, the
master ‘‘ordered a bowl of arrack punch to be prepared and sent on board.’’
It was a community frolic, until at last the manta, exhausted, rose to the sur-
face, succumbed to spearing, and was drawn to the beach for observation
and celebration. Its pectoral fins—the batlike ‘‘wings’’ that also suggested
the name Vampire of the Sea—came to twenty feet.
Much later, in August , William himself spotted eight devil-fish as
he sailed across the sound to Hilton Head. Inspired to resume the Elliott
maritime legend, he ordered a harpoon and forty fathoms of half-inch rope.
Soon he set out in unpromising weather with a teenaged son and a crew of
six oarsmen and a steersman. William would permit no one but himself at
the bow, with harpoon, and after several attempts at the elusive manta, he
succeeded in lodging his weapon in its back. At last he also experienced the
fabled ride—‘‘driven by the most diabolical of locomotives’’—with friends’
boats now also in tow. William reclined under an umbrella, eating melon,
watching ‘‘the hammocks of Parris Island grow into distinctness,’’ as grand
frolic proceeded. The manta remained well below the surface, resisting
Elliott’s and the crew’s attempts to coax it up for spearing. The manta per-
sisted despite a bent spear and a broken bayonet embedded in its flesh. A
fresh crew with more weapons came on from another boat. Finally, after
many more thrusts, the manta escaped. Shortly, though, the Elliotts and
their neighbors returned to the sound with more satisfying results—that is,
kills with capture, redeeming the disappointment of the first hunt’s conclu-
sion. Thereafter William engaged in other pursuits and abandoned devil-
fishing for six years, but he returned with a vengeance in the summer of
.