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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Tales of Fishes, by Zane Grey
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Tales of Fishes
+
+Author: Zane Grey
+
+Release Date: July 7, 2009 [EBook #29346]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TALES OF FISHES ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Brian Janes, D. Alexander and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ TALES _of_ FISHES
+
+ by
+
+ Zane Grey
+
+ _President of the Long Key Fishing Club
+ Honorary Vice-President of the Tuna Club, Avalon_
+
+ _Author of_
+ "The U. P. Trail" "The Desert of Wheat" Etc.
+
+ _Illustrated from Photographs
+ by the author_
+
+ HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS
+ New York and London
+
+
+
+
+ TALES OF FISHES
+
+ Copyright 1919, by Harper & Brothers
+
+ Printed in the United States of America
+
+ Published June, 1919
+
+
+
+
+ CONTENTS
+
+
+ CHAP.                                                             PAGE
+
+          VERSES                                                     0
+
+    I.    BYME-BY-TARPON                                             1
+
+   II.    THE ISLAND OF THE DEAD                                     8
+
+  III.    THE ROYAL PURPLE GAME OF THE SEA                          26
+
+   IV.    TWO FIGHTS WITH SWORDFISH                                 54
+
+    V.    SAILFISH                                                  72
+
+   VI.    GULF STREAM FISHING                                       88
+
+  VII.    BONEFISH                                                 107
+
+ VIII.    SOME RARE FISH                                           136
+
+   IX.    SWORDFISH                                                153
+
+    X.    THE GLADIATOR OF THE SEA                                 180
+
+   XI.    SEVEN MARLIN SWORDFISH IN ONE DAY                        197
+
+  XII.    RANDOM NOTES                                             216
+
+ XIII.    BIG TUNA                                                 221
+
+  XIV.    AVALON, THE BEAUTIFUL                                    250
+
+
+
+
+ ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+
+ THE GREAT COLORED ROLLERS OF THE PACIFIC                _Frontispiece_
+
+ TARPON THROWING HOOK                                    _Facing p_.  2
+
+ LEAPING TARPON                                               "       3
+
+ SAVALO, OR SILVER KING                                       "       4
+
+ THESE WILD FOWL HAVE THE WONDERFUL BEAUTY AND
+ SPEED OF FALCONS                                             "       5
+
+ RABIHORCADO                                                  "      12
+
+ THE BOOBIES HAD NO FEAR OF MAN, BUT BOTH YOUNG
+ AND OLD WOULD PICK WITH THEIR SHARP BILLS                    "      13
+
+ YOUNG BOOBIES                                                "      14
+
+ SUGGESTIVE OF A WILD, WIND-SWEPT ISLAND OF THE SEA           "      15
+
+ NESTS EVERYWHERE IN THE SAND AND MOSS                        "      16
+
+ THESE HUGE BLACK RABIHORCADOS WERE THE LARGEST
+ SPECIES OF FRIGATE OR MAN-OF-WAR BIRD                        "      17
+
+ RABIHORCADO RISING FROM THEIR EGGS                           "      20
+
+ BOOBIES OF ISLA DE LA MUERTE IN THE CARIBBEAN SEA            "      21
+
+ A SWORDFISH LEAPING OFF THE BOLD BLACK SHORE OF CLEMENTE     "      28
+
+ ON THE RAMPAGE                                               "      29
+
+ SWORDFISH ON THE SURFACE                                     "      32
+
+ HOLDING HARD                                                 "      33
+
+ A CLEAN GREYHOUND LEAP                                       "      36
+
+ 316-POUND SWORDFISH                                          "      37
+
+ THE WILD OATS SLOPE OF CLEMENTE                              "      44
+
+ WHERE THE DEEP-BLUE SWELL BOOMS AGAINST THE LAVA
+ WALL OF CLEMENTE ISLAND                                      "      45
+
+ FOUR MARLIN SWORDFISH IN ONE DAY                             "      68
+
+ A BIG SAILFISH BREAKING WATER                                "      69
+
+ FOUR SAILFISH IN ONE DAY ON LIGHT TACKLE                     "      76
+
+ SAILFISH THRESHING ON THE SURFACE                            "      77
+
+ MEMORABLE OF LONG KEY                                        "      84
+
+ LEAPING SAILFISH                                             "      85
+
+ SOLITUDE ON THE SEA                                          "      92
+
+ SUNSET BY THE SEA                                            "      93
+
+ TWIN TIGERS OF THE SEA--THE SAVAGE BARRACUDA                 "      98
+
+ HAPPY PASTIME OF BONEFISHING                                 "      99
+
+ THE GAMEST FISH THAT SWIMS                                   "     110
+
+ A WAAHOO                                                     "     111
+
+ AT LONG KEY, THE LONELY CORAL SHORE WHERE THE SUN
+ SHINES WHITE ALL DAY AND THE STARS SHINE WHITE
+ ALL NIGHT                                                    "     144
+
+ THE FAMOUS STUNT OF A MARLIN SWORDFISH, "WALKING
+ ON HIS TAIL"                                                 "     145
+
+ SURGING IN A HALF-CIRCLE                                     "     148
+
+ BROADBILL SWORDFISH ON THE SURFACE--THE MOST
+ THRILLING SIGHT TO A SEA ANGLER                              "     149
+
+ SHINING IN THE SUNLIGHT                                      "     156
+
+ THROWING WHITE WATER LIKE THE EXPLOSION OF A TORPEDO         "     157
+
+ A LONG, SLIM SAILFISH WIGGLING IN THE AIR                    "     160
+
+ FIGHTING A BROADBILL SWORDFISH                               "     161
+
+ THE ONLY PHOTOGRAPH EVER TAKEN OF LEAPING BROADBILL
+ SWORDFISH                                                    "     180
+
+ XIPHIAS GLADIUS, THE BROADSWORDED GLADIATOR OF THE SEA       "     181
+
+ A STRAIGHTAWAY GREYHOUND LEAP, MARVELOUS FOR ITS
+ SPEED AND WILDNESS                                           "     188
+
+ LIKE A LEAPING SPECTER                                       "     189
+
+ WALKING ON HIS TAIL                                          "     192
+
+ A MAGNIFICENT FLASHING LEAP. THIS PERFECT PICTURE
+ CONSIDERED BY AUTHOR TO BE WORTH HIS FIVE
+ YEARS' LABOR AND PATIENCE                                    "     193
+
+ TIRED OUT--THE LAST SLOW HEAVE                               "     196
+
+ HAULED ABOARD WITH BLOCK AND TACKLE                          "     197
+
+ R. C. ON THE JOB                                             "     204
+
+ 304 POUNDS                                                   "     205
+
+ R. C. GREY AND RECORD MARLIN                                 "     205
+
+ 328-POUND RECORD MARLIN BY R. C. GREY. SHAPELIEST
+ AND MOST BEAUTIFUL SPECIMEN EVER TAKEN                       "     208
+
+ SUNSET OVER CLEMENTE CHANNEL                                 "     209
+
+ A BLUE-FINNED PLUGGER OF THE DEEP--138-POUND TUNA            "     244
+
+ AVALON, THE BEAUTIFUL                                        "     245
+
+ THE OLD AVALON BARGE WHERE THE GULLS FISH AND
+ SCREAM                                                       "     252
+
+ THE END OF THE DAY OFF CATALINA ISLAND                       "     253
+
+ SEAL ROCKS                                                   "     264
+
+
+
+
+ [Illustration: THE GREAT COLORED ROLLERS OF THE PACIFIC]
+
+
+
+
+ZANE GREY
+
+By W. Livingston Larned
+
+
+     Been to Avalon with Grey ... been most everywhere;
+     Chummed with him and fished with him in every Sportsman's
+       lair.
+     Helped him with the white Sea-bass and Barracuda haul,
+     Shared the Tuna's sprayful sport and heard his Hunter-call,
+     Me an' Grey are fishin' friends.... Pals of rod and reel,
+     Whether it's the sort that fights ... or th' humble eel,
+     On and on, through Wonderland ... winds a-blowin' free,
+     Catching all th' fins that grow ... Sportsman Grey an' Me.
+
+     Been to Florida with Zane ... scouting down th' coast;
+     Whipped the deep for Tarpon, too, that natives love th' most.
+     Seen the smiling, Tropic isles that pass, in green review,
+     Gathered cocoanut and moss where Southern skies were blue.
+     Seen him laugh that boyish laugh, when things were goin'
+       right;
+     Helped him beach our little boat and kindle fires at night.
+     Comrades of the Open Way, the Treasure-Trove of Sea,
+     Port Ahoy and who cares where, with Mister Grey an' Me!
+
+     Been to Western lands with Grey ... hunted fox and deer.
+     Seen the Grizzly's ugly face with danger lurkin' near.
+     Slept on needles, near th' sky, and marked th' round moon
+       rise
+     Over purpling peaks of snow that hurt a fellow's eyes.
+     Gone, like Indians, under brush and to some mystic place--
+     Home of red men, long since gone, to join their dying race.
+     Yes ... we've chummed it, onward--outward ... mountain,
+       wood, and Key,
+     At the quiet readin'-table ... Sportsman Grey an' Me.
+
+
+
+
+TALES OF FISHES
+
+
+
+
+I
+
+BYME-BY-TARPON
+
+
+To capture the fish is not all of the fishing. Yet there are
+circumstances which make this philosophy hard to accept. I have in mind
+an incident of angling tribulation which rivals the most poignant
+instant of my boyhood, when a great trout flopped for one sharp moment
+on a mossy stone and then was gone like a golden flash into the depths
+of the pool.
+
+Some years ago I followed Attalano, my guide, down the narrow Mexican
+street of Tampico to the bank of the broad Panuco. Under the rosy dawn
+the river quivered like a restless opal. The air, sweet with the song of
+blackbird and meadowlark, was full of cheer; the rising sun shone in
+splendor on the water and the long line of graceful palms lining the
+opposite bank, and the tropical forest beyond, with its luxuriant
+foliage festooned by gray moss. Here was a day to warm the heart of any
+fisherman; here was the beautiful river, celebrated in many a story;
+here was the famous guide, skilled with oar and gaff, rich in
+experience. What sport I would have; what treasure of keen sensation
+would I store; what flavor of life would I taste this day! Hope burns
+always in the heart of a fisherman.
+
+Attalano was in harmony with the day and the scene. He had a cheering
+figure, lithe and erect, with a springy stride, bespeaking the Montezuma
+blood said to flow in his Indian veins. Clad in a colored cotton shirt,
+blue jeans, and Spanish girdle, and treading the path with brown feet
+never deformed by shoes, he would have stopped an artist. Soon he bent
+his muscular shoulders to the oars, and the ripples circling from each
+stroke hardly disturbed the calm Panuco. Down the stream glided long
+Indian canoes, hewn from trees and laden with oranges and bananas. In
+the stern stood a dark native wielding an enormous paddle with ease.
+Wild-fowl dotted the glassy expanse; white cranes and pink flamingoes
+graced the reedy bars; red-breasted kingfishers flew over with friendly
+screech. The salt breeze kissed my cheek; the sun shone with the
+comfortable warmth Northerners welcome in spring; from over the white
+sand-dunes far below came the faint boom of the ever-restless Gulf.
+
+We trolled up the river and down, across from one rush-lined lily-padded
+shore to the other, for miles and miles with never a strike. But I was
+content, for over me had been cast the dreamy, care-dispelling languor
+of the South.
+
+When the first long, low swell of the changing tide rolled in, a
+stronger breeze raised little dimpling waves and chased along the water
+in dark, quick-moving frowns. All at once the tarpon began to show,
+to splash, to play, to roll. It was as though they had been awakened by
+the stir and murmur of the miniature breakers. Broad bars of silver
+flashed in the sunlight, green backs cleft the little billows, wide
+tails slapped lazily on the water. Every yard of river seemed to hold a
+rolling fish. This sport increased until the long stretch of water,
+which had been as calm as St. Regis Lake at twilight, resembled the
+quick current of a Canadian stream. It was a fascinating, wonderful
+sight. But it was also peculiarly exasperating, because when the fish
+roll in this sportive, lazy way they will not bite. For an hour I
+trolled through this whirlpool of flying spray and twisting tarpon, with
+many a salty drop on my face, hearing all around me the whipping crash
+of breaking water.
+
+ [Illustration: TARPON THROWING HOOK]
+
+ [Illustration: LEAPING TARPON]
+
+"Byme-by-tarpon," presently remarked Attalano, favoring me with the
+first specimen of his English.
+
+The rolling of the tarpon diminished, and finally ceased as noon
+advanced.
+
+No more did I cast longing eyes upon those huge bars of silver. They
+were buried treasure. The breeze quickened as the flowing tide gathered
+strength, and together they drove the waves higher. Attalano rowed
+across the river into the outlet of one of the lagoons. This narrow
+stream was unruffled by wind; its current was sluggish and its muddy
+waters were clarifying under the influence of the now fast-rising tide.
+
+By a sunken log near shore we rested for lunch. I found the shade of the
+trees on the bank rather pleasant, and became interested in a blue
+heron, a russet-colored duck, and a brown-and-black snipe, all sitting
+on the sunken log. Near by stood a tall crane watching us solemnly, and
+above in the tree-top a parrot vociferously proclaimed his knowledge of
+our presence. I was wondering if he objected to our invasion, at the
+same time taking a most welcome bite for lunch, when directly in front
+of me the water flew up as if propelled by some submarine power. Framed
+in a shower of spray I saw an immense tarpon, with mouth agape and fins
+stiff, close in pursuit of frantically leaping little fish.
+
+The fact that Attalano dropped his sandwich attested to the large size
+and close proximity of the tarpon. He uttered a grunt of satisfaction
+and pushed out the boat. A school of feeding tarpon closed the mouth of
+the lagoon. Thousands of mullet had been cut off from their river haunts
+and were now leaping, flying, darting in wild haste to elude the great
+white monsters. In the foamy swirls I saw streaks of blood.
+
+"Byme-by-tarpon!" called Attalano, warningly.
+
+Shrewd guide! I had forgotten that I held a rod. When the realization
+dawned on me that sooner or later I would feel the strike of one of
+these silver tigers a keen, tingling thrill of excitement quivered over
+me. The primitive man asserted himself; the instinctive lust to conquer
+and to kill seized me, and I leaned forward, tense and strained with
+suspended breath and swelling throat.
+
+Suddenly the strike came, so tremendous in its energy that it almost
+pulled me from my seat; so quick, fierce, bewildering that I could think
+of nothing but to hold on. Then the water split with a hissing sound to
+let out a great tarpon, long as a door, seemingly as wide, who shot
+up and up into the air. He wagged his head and shook it like a
+struggling wolf. When he fell back with a heavy splash, a rainbow,
+exquisitely beautiful and delicate, stood out of the spray, glowed,
+paled, and faded.
+
+ [Illustration: SAVALO, OR SILVER KING]
+
+ [Illustration: THESE WILD FOWL HAVE THE WONDERFUL BEAUTY AND SPEED OF
+ FALCONS]
+
+Five times he sprang toward the blue sky, and as many he plunged down
+with a thunderous crash. The reel screamed. The line sang. The rod,
+which I had thought stiff as a tree, bent like a willow wand. The silver
+king came up far astern and sheered to the right in a long, wide curve,
+leaving behind a white wake. Then he sounded, while I watched the line
+with troubled eyes. But not long did he sulk. He began a series of
+magnificent tactics new in my experience. He stood on his tail, then on
+his head; he sailed like a bird; he shook himself so violently as to
+make a convulsive, shuffling sound; he dove, to come up covered with
+mud, marring his bright sides; he closed his huge gills with a slap and,
+most remarkable of all, he rose in the shape of a crescent, to
+straighten out with such marvelous power that he seemed to actually
+crack like a whip.
+
+After this performance, which left me in a condition of mental
+aberration, he sounded again, to begin a persistent, dragging pull which
+was the most disheartening of all his maneuvers; for he took yard after
+yard of line until he was far away from me, out in the Panuco. We
+followed him, and for an hour crossed to and fro, up and down, humoring
+him, responding to his every caprice, as if he verily were a king. At
+last, with a strange inconsistency more human than fishlike, he returned
+to the scene of his fatal error, and here in the mouth of the smaller
+stream he leaped once more. But it was only a ghost of his former
+efforts--a slow, weary rise, showing he was tired. I could see it in the
+weakening wag of his head. He no longer made the line whistle.
+
+I began to recover the long line. I pumped and reeled him closer.
+Reluctantly he came, not yet broken in spirit, though his strength had
+sped. He rolled at times with a shade of the old vigor, with a pathetic
+manifestation of the temper that became a hero. I could see the long,
+slender tip of his dorsal fin, then his broad tail and finally the gleam
+of his silver side. Closer he came and slowly circled around the boat,
+eying me with great, accusing eyes. I measured him with a fisherman's
+glance. What a great fish! Seven feet, I calculated, at the very least.
+
+At this triumphant moment I made a horrible discovery. About six feet
+from the leader the strands of the line had frayed, leaving only one
+thread intact. My blood ran cold and the clammy sweat broke out on my
+brow. My empire was not won; my first tarpon was as if he had never
+been. But true to my fishing instincts, I held on morosely; tenderly I
+handled him; with brooding care I riveted my eye on the frail place in
+my line, and gently, ever so gently, I began to lead the silver king
+shoreward. Every smallest move of his tail meant disaster to me, so when
+he moved it I let go of the reel. Then I would have to coax him to swim
+back again.
+
+The boat touched the bank. I stood up and carefully headed my fish
+toward the shore, and slid his head and shoulders out on the lily-pads.
+One moment he lay there, glowing like mother-of-pearl, a rare fish,
+fresh from the sea. Then, as Attalano warily reached for the leader, he
+gave a gasp, a flop that deluged us with muddy water, and a lunge that
+spelled freedom.
+
+I watched him swim slowly away with my bright leader dragging beside
+him. Is it not the loss of things which makes life bitter? What we have
+gained is ours; what is lost is gone, whether fish, or use, or love, or
+name, or fame.
+
+I tried to put on a cheerful aspect for my guide. But it was too soon.
+Attalano, wise old fellow, understood my case. A smile, warm and living,
+flashed across his dark face as he spoke:
+
+"Byme-by-tarpon."
+
+Which defined his optimism and revived the failing spark within my
+breast. It was, too, in the nature of a prophecy.
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+THE ISLAND OF THE DEAD
+
+
+Strange wild adventures fall to the lot of a fisherman as well as to
+that of a hunter. On board the _Monterey_, from Havana to Progreso,
+Yucatan, I happened to fall into conversation with an English
+globe-trotter who had just come from the Mont Pel�e eruption. Like all
+those wandering Englishmen, this one was exceedingly interesting. We
+exchanged experiences, and I felt that I had indeed much to see and
+learn of the romantic Old World.
+
+In Merida, that wonderful tropic city of white towers and white streets
+and white-gowned women, I ran into this Englishman again. I wanted to
+see the magnificent ruins of Uxmal and Ake and Labna. So did he. I knew
+it would be a hard trip from Muna to the ruins, and so I explained. He
+smiled in a way to make me half ashamed of my doubts. We went together,
+and I found him to be a splendid fellow. We parted without knowing each
+other's names. I had no idea what he thought of me, but I thought he
+must have been somebody.
+
+While traveling around the coast of Yucatan I had heard of the wild and
+lonely Alacranes Reef where lighthouse-keepers went insane from
+solitude, and where wonderful fishes inhabited the lagoons. That was
+enough for me. Forthwith I meant to go to Alacranes.
+
+Further inquiry brought me meager but fascinating news of an island on
+that lonely coral reef, called _Isla de la Muerte_ (the Island of the
+Dead). Here was the haunt of a strange bird, called by Indians
+_rabihorcado_, and it was said to live off the booby, another strange
+sea-bird. The natives of the coast solemnly averred that when the
+_rabihorcado_ could not steal fish from the booby he killed himself by
+hanging in the brush. I did not believe such talk. The Spanish appeared
+to be _rabi_, meaning rabies, and _horcar_, to hang.
+
+I set about to charter a boat, and found the great difficulty in
+procuring one to be with the Yucatecan government. No traveler had ever
+before done such a thing. It excited suspicion. The officials thought
+the United States was looking for a coaling-station. Finally, through
+the help of the Ward line agent and the consul I prevailed upon them to
+give me such papers as appeared necessary. Then my Indian boatmen
+interested a crew of six, and I chartered a two-masted canoe-shaped bark
+called the _Xpit_.
+
+The crew of the _Hispaniola_, with the never-to-be-forgotten John Silver
+and the rest of the pirates of Treasure Island, could not have been a
+more villainous and piratical gang than this of the bark _Xpit_. I was
+advised not to take the trip alone. But it appeared impossible to find
+any one to accompany me. I grew worried, yet determined not to miss the
+opportunity.
+
+Strange to relate, as I was conversing on the dock with a ship captain
+and the agent of the Ward line, lamenting the necessity of sailing for
+Alacranes alone, some one near by spoke up, "Take me!"
+
+In surprise I wheeled to see my English acquaintance who had visited the
+interior of Yucatan with me. I greeted him, thanked him, but of course
+did not take him seriously, and I proceeded to expound the nature of my
+venture. To my further surprise, he not only wanted to go, but he was
+enthusiastic.
+
+"But it's a hard, wild trip," I protested. "Why, that crew of
+barefooted, red-shirted Canary-Islanders have got me scared! Besides,
+you don't know me!"
+
+"Well, you don't know me, either," he replied, with his winning smile.
+
+Then I awoke to my own obtuseness and to the fact that here was a real
+man, in spite of the significance of a crest upon his linen.
+
+"If you'll take a chance on me I'll certainly take one on you," I
+replied, and told him who I was, and that the Ward-line agent and
+American consul would vouch for me.
+
+He offered his hand with the simple reply, "My name is C----."
+
+If before I had imagined he was somebody, I now knew it. And that was
+how I met the kindest man, the finest philosopher, the most unselfish
+comrade, the greatest example and influence that it has ever been my
+good fortune to know upon my trips by land or sea. I learned this during
+our wonderful trip to the Island of the Dead. He never thought of
+himself. Hardship to him was nothing. He had no fear of the sea, nor of
+men, nor of death. It seemed he never rested, never slept, never let
+anybody do what he could do instead.
+
+That night we sailed for Alacranes. It was a white night of the tropics,
+with a million stars blinking in the blue dome overhead, and the
+Caribbean Sea like a shadowed opal, calm and rippling and shimmering.
+The _Xpit_ was not a bark of comfort. It had a bare deck and an empty
+hold. I could not stay below in that gloomy, ill-smelling pit, so I
+tried to sleep on deck. I lay on a hatch under the great boom, and what
+with its creaking, and the hollow roar of the sail, and the wash of the
+waves, and the dazzling starlight, I could not sleep. C. sat on a coil
+of rope, smoked, and watched in silence. I wondered about him then.
+
+Sunrise on the Caribbean was glorious to behold--a vast burst of silver
+and gold over a level and wrinkling blue sea. By day we sailed, tacking
+here and there, like lost mariners standing for some far-off unknown
+shore. That night a haze of clouds obscured the stars, and it developed
+that our red-shirted skipper steered by the stars. We indeed became lost
+mariners. They sounded with a greased lead and determined our latitude
+by the color and character of the coral or sand that came up on the
+lead. Sometimes they knew where we were and at others they did not have
+any more idea than had I.
+
+On the second morning out we reached Alacranes lighthouse; and when I
+saw the flat strip of sand, without a tree or bush to lend it grace and
+color, the bleak lighthouse, and the long, lonely reaches of barren
+reefs from which there came incessant moaning, I did not wonder that two
+former lighthouse-keepers had gone insane. The present keeper received
+me with the welcome always accorded a visitor to out-of-the-world
+places. He corroborated all that my Indian sailors had claimed for
+the _rabihorcado_, and added the interesting information that
+lighthouse-keepers desired the extinction of the birds because the
+guano, deposited by them on the roofs of the keepers' houses, poisoned
+the rain water--all they had to drink.
+
+I climbed the narrow, spiral stair to the lighthouse tower, and there,
+apparently lifted into the cloud-navigated sky, I awakened to the real
+wonder of coral reefs. Ridges of white and brown showed their teeth
+against the crawling, tireless, insatiate sea. Islets of dead coral
+gleamed like bleached bone, and beds of live coral, amber as wine, lay
+wreathed in restless surf. From near to far extended the rollers, the
+curving channels, and the shoals, all colorful, all quivering with the
+light of jewels. Golden sand sloped into the gray-green of shallow
+water, and this shaded again into darker green, which in turn merged
+into purple, reaching away to the far barrier reef, a white wall against
+the blue, heaving ocean.
+
+The crew had rowed us ashore with my boatmen Manuel and Augustine. And
+then the red-shirted captain stated he would like to go back to Progreso
+and return for us at our convenience. Hesitating over this, I finally
+gave permission, on the promise that he would bring back the _Xpit_ in
+one week.
+
+So they sailed away, and left us soon to find out that we were marooned
+on a desert island. When I saw how C. took it I was glad of our enforced
+stay. Solitude and loneliness pervaded Alacranes. Of all the places I
+had visited, this island was the most hauntingly lonely.
+
+ [Illustration: RABIHORCADO]
+
+ [Illustration: THE BOOBIES HAD NO FEAR OF MAN, BUT BOTH YOUNG AND OLD
+ WOULD PICK WITH THEIR SHARP BILLS]
+
+It must have struck C. the same way, and even more powerfully than it
+had me. He was a much older man, and, though so unfailingly cheerful and
+helpful, he seemed to me to desire loneliness. He did not fish or shoot.
+His pleasure appeared to be walking the strand, around and around the
+little island, gathering bits of coral and shells and seaweeds and
+strange things cast up by the tides. For hours he would sit high on the
+lighthouse stairway and gaze out over the variegated mosaic of colored
+reefs. My bed was a hammock in the loft of the keeper's house and it
+hung close to an open door. At night I woke often, and I would look out
+upon the lonely beach and sea. When the light flashed its long wheeling
+gleam out into the pale obscurity of the night it always showed C.'s
+dark figure on the lonely beach. I got into the habit of watching for
+him, and never, at any time I happened to awake, did I fail to see him
+out there. How strange he looms to me now! But I thought it was natural
+then. The loneliness of that coral reef haunted me. The sound of the
+sea, eternally slow and sad and moaning, haunted me like a passion. Men
+are the better for solitude.
+
+Our bark, the _Xpit_, did not come back for us. Day by day we scanned
+the heaving sea, far out beyond the barrier reef, until I began to feel
+like Crusoe upon his lonely isle. We had no way to know then that our
+crew had sailed twice from Progreso, getting lost the first time, and
+getting drunk the second, eventually returning to the home port. Some
+misfortunes turn out to be blessings.
+
+What adventures I had at Alacranes! But, alas! I cannot relate a single
+story about really catching a fish. There were many and ferocious fish
+that would rush any bait I tried, only I could not hold them. My tackle
+was not equal to what it is now. Perhaps, however, if it had been it
+would have been smashed just the same.
+
+In front of the lighthouse there had been built a little plank dock,
+running out twenty yards or so. The water was about six feet deep, and a
+channel of varying width meandered between the coral reefs out to the
+deep blue sea. This must have been a lane for big fish to come inside
+the barrier. Almost always there were great shadows drifting around in
+the water. First I tried artificial baits. Some one, hoping to convert
+me, had given me a whole box of those ugly, murderous plug-baits made
+famous by Robert H. Davis. Whenever I made a cast with one of these a
+big fish would hit it and either strip the hooks off or break my tackle.
+Some of these fish leaped clear. They looked like barracuda to me, only
+they were almost as silvery as a tarpon. One looked ten feet long and as
+big around as a telegraph pole. When this one smashed the water white
+and leaped, Manuel yelled, "_Pecuda!_" I tried hard to catch a specimen,
+and had a good many hooked, but they always broke away. I did not know
+then, as I know now, that barracuda grow to twelve feet in the
+Caribbean. That fact is mentioned in records and natural histories.
+
+Out in the deeper lagoons I hooked huge fish that swam off
+ponderously, dragging the skiff until my line parted. Once I was
+fortunate enough to see one, which fact dispelled any possibility of its
+being a shark. Manuel called it "_Cherna!_" It looked like a giant
+sea-bass and would have weighed at least eight hundred pounds. The color
+was lighter than any sea-bass I ever studied. My Indian boatmen claimed
+this fish was a man-eater and that he and his crew had once fought one
+all day and then it broke away. The fish I saw was huge enough to
+swallow a man, that was certain. I think this species must have been the
+great June-fish of the Gulf. I hooked one once at the mouth of the
+Panuco River in Mexico and it nearly swamped the boat.
+
+ [Illustration: YOUNG BOOBIES]
+
+ [Illustration: SUGGESTIVE OF A WILD, WIND-SWEPT ISLAND OF THE SEA]
+
+Soon my tackle was all used up, and, for want of better, I had to use
+tiny hooks and thread lines--because I was going to fish, by hook or
+crook! This method, however, which I learned first of all, is not to be
+despised. Whenever I get my hand on a thin, light, stiff reed pole and a
+long, light line of thread with a little hook, then I revert to boyhood
+days and sunfish and chubs and shiners and bullheads. Could any
+fisherman desire more joy? Those days are the best.
+
+     The child is father of the man
+     And I could wish my days to be
+     Bound each to each by natural piety.
+
+In the shallow water near the dock there always floated a dense school
+of little fish like sardines. They drifted, floated, hovered beside the
+dock, and when one of the big fish would rush near they would make a
+breaking roar on the surface. Of me they evinced no fear whatever. But
+no bait, natural or artificial, that I could discover, tempted them to
+bite. This roused my cantankerous spirit to catch some of those little
+fish or else fall inestimably in my own regard. I noted that whenever I
+cast over the school it disintegrated. A circle widened from the center,
+and where had been a black mass of fish was only sand. But as my hook
+settled to the bottom the dark circle narrowed and closed until the
+school was densely packed as before. Whereupon I tied several of the
+tiny hooks together with a bit of lead, and, casting that out, I waited
+till all was black around my line, then I jerked. I snagged one of the
+little fish and found him to be a beautiful, silvery, flat-sided shiner
+of unknown species to me. Every cast I made thereafter caught one of
+them. And they were as good to eat as a sardine and better than a
+mullet.
+
+My English comrade, C., sometimes went with me, and when he did go, the
+interest and kindly curiosity and pleasure upon his face were a constant
+source of delight to me. I knew that I was as new a species to him as
+the little fish were to me. But C. had become so nearly a perfectly
+educated man that nothing surprised him, nothing made him wonder. He
+sympathized, he understood, he could put himself in the place of
+another. What worried me, however, was the simple fact that he did not
+care to fish or shoot for the so-called sport of either. I think my
+education on a higher plane began at Alacranes, in the society of that
+lonely Englishman. Somehow I have gravitated toward the men who have
+been good for me.
+
+ [Illustration: NESTS EVERYWHERE IN THE SAND AND MOSS]
+
+ [Illustration: THESE HUGE BLACK RABIHORCADOS WERE THE LARGEST SPECIES
+ OF FRIGATE OR MAN-OF-WAR BIRD]
+
+But C. enjoyed action as well as contemplation. Once out on the shoals
+when Manuel harpooned a huge hawk-bill turtle--the valuable species from
+which the amber shell is derived--we had a thrilling and dangerous ride.
+For the turtle hauled us at a terrific rate through the water. Then C.
+joined in with the yells of the Indians. He was glad, however, when the
+turtle left us stranded high upon a coral bed.
+
+On moonlight nights when the tide was low C. especially enjoyed wading
+on the shoals and hunting for the _langustas_, or giant lobsters. This
+was exciting sport. We used barrel-hoops with nets, and when we saw a
+lobster shining in the shallow water we waded noiselessly close to swoop
+down upon him with a great splash. I was always afraid of these huge
+crayfish, but C. was not. His courage might have been predatory, for he
+certainly liked to eat lobster. But he had a scare one night when a
+devilfish or tremendous ray got between him and the shore and made the
+water fly aloft in a geyser. It was certainly fun for me to see that
+dignified Englishman make tracks across the shoal.
+
+To conclude about C., when I went on to Mexico City with him I met
+friends of his there, a lord and a duke traveling incognito. C. himself
+was a peer of England and a major in the English army. But I never
+learned this till we got to Tampico, where they went with me for the
+tarpon-fishing. They were rare fine fellows. L., the little Englishman,
+could do anything under the sun, and it was from him I got my type for
+Castleton, the Englishman, in _The Light of Western Stars_. I have been
+told that never was there an Englishman on earth like the one I
+portrayed in my novel. But my critics never fished with Lord L.!
+
+These English friends went with me to the station to bid me good-by and
+good luck. We were to part there, they to take ship for London, and I to
+take train for the headwaters of the Panuco River, down which unknown
+streams I was to find my way through jungle to the Gulf. Here I was told
+that C. had lost his only son in the Boer War, and since then had never
+been able to rest or sleep or remain in one place. That stunned me, for
+I remembered that he had seemed to live only to forget himself, to think
+of others. It was a great lesson to me. And now, since I have not heard
+from him during the four years of the world war, I seem to divine that
+he has "gone west"; he has taken his last restless, helpful journey,
+along with the best and noblest of England's blood.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Because this fish-story has so little of fish in it does not prove that
+a man cannot fish for other game than fish. I remember when I was a boy
+that I went with my brother--the R. C. and the Reddy of the accompanying
+pages--to fish for bass at Dillon's Falls in Ohio. Alas for Bill Dilg
+and Bob Davis, who never saw this blue-blooded home of bronze-back
+black-bass! In the heat of the day my brother and I jabbed our poles
+into the bank, and set off to amuse ourselves some other way for a
+while. When we returned my pole was pulled down and wabbling so as to
+make a commotion in the water. Quickly I grasped it and pulled, while
+Reddy stared wide-eyed and open-mouthed. Surely a big bass had taken my
+bait and hooked himself. Never had I felt so heavy and strong a bass!
+The line swished back and forth; my pole bent more and more as I lifted.
+The water boiled and burst in a strange splash. Then! a big duck flew,
+as if by magic, right out from before us. So amazed was I that he nearly
+pulled the pole out of my hands. Reddy yelled wildly. The duck broke the
+line and sped away.... That moment will never be forgotten. It took us
+so long to realize that the duck had swallowed my minnow, hooked
+himself, and happened to be under the surface when we returned.
+
+So the point of my main story, like that of the above, is about how I
+set out to catch fish, and, failing, found for such loss abundant
+recompense.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Manuel and Augustine, my Indian sailors, embarked with me in a boat for
+the Island of the Dead. Millions of marine creatures swarmed in the
+labyrinthine waterways. Then, as we neared the land, "_Rabihorcado!_"
+exclaimed Manuel, pointing to a black cloud hovering over the island.
+
+As we approached the sandy strip I made it out to be about half a mile
+long, lying only a few feet above the level of the sea. Hundreds of
+great, black birds flew out to meet us and sailed over the boat, a
+sable-winged, hoarse-voiced crowd. When we beached I sprang ashore and
+ran up the sand to the edge of green. The whole end of the island was
+white with birds--large, beautiful, snowy birds with shiny black bars
+across their wings.
+
+"Boobies," said Manuel and motioned me to go forward.
+
+They greeted our approach with the most discordant din it had ever been
+my fortune to hear. A mingling of honk and cackle, it manifested not
+excitement so much as curiosity. I walked among the boobies, and they
+never moved except to pick at me with long, sharp bills. Many were
+sitting on nests, and all around in the sand were nests with eggs, and
+little boobies just hatched, and others in every stage of growth, up to
+big babies of birds like huge balls of pure white wool. I wondered where
+the thousands of mothers were. The young ones showed no concern when I
+picked them up, save to dig into me with curious bills.
+
+I saw an old booby, close by, raise his black-barred wings, and,
+flapping them, start to run across the sand. In this way he launched
+himself into the air and started out to sea. Presently I noticed several
+more flying away, one at a time, while others came sailing back again.
+How they could sail! They had the swift, graceful flight of a falcon.
+
+For a while I puzzled over the significance of this outgoing and
+incoming. Shortly a bird soared overhead, circled with powerful sweep,
+and alighted within ten feet of me. The bird watched me with gray,
+unintelligent eyes. They were stupid, uncanny eyes, yet somehow so fixed
+and staring as to seem accusing. One of the little white balls of wool
+waddled up and, rubbing its fuzzy head against the booby, proclaimed the
+filial relation. After a few rubs and wabbles the young bird opened wide
+its bill and let out shrill cries. The mother bobbed up and down in
+evident consternation, walked away, came back, and with an eye on me
+plainly sought to pacify her fledgling. Suddenly she put her bill far
+down into the wide-open bill, effectually stifling the cries. Then the
+two boobies stood locked in amazing convulsions. The throat of the
+mother swelled, and a lump passed into and down the throat of the young
+bird. The puzzle of the flying boobies was solved in the startling
+realization that the mother had returned from the sea with a fish in her
+stomach and had disgorged it into the gullet of her offspring.
+
+ [Illustration: RABIHORCADO RISING FROM THEIR EGGS]
+
+ [Illustration: BOOBIES OF ISLA DE LA MUERTE IN THE CARIBBEAN SEA]
+
+I watched this feat performed dozens of times, and at length scared a
+mother booby into withdrawing her bill and dropping a fish on the sand.
+It was a flying-fish fully ten inches long. I interrupted several little
+dinner-parties, and in each case found the disgorged fish to be of the
+flying species. The boobies flew ten, twenty miles out to the open sea
+for fish, while the innumerable shoals that lay around their island were
+alive with sardine and herring!
+
+I had raised a tremendous row; so, leaving the boobies to quiet down, I
+made my way toward the flocks of _rabihorcados_. Here and there in the
+thick growth of green weed were boobies squatting on isolated nests. No
+sooner had I gotten close to the _rabihorcados_ than I made sure they
+were the far-famed frigate pelicans, or man-of-war birds. They were as
+tame as the boobies; as I walked among them many did not fly at all.
+Others rose with soft, swishing sound of great wings and floated in a
+circle, uttering deep-throated cries, not unlike the dismal croak of
+ravens. Perfectly built for the air, they were like feathers blown by a
+breeze. Light, thin, long, sharp, with enormous spread of wings,
+beautiful with the beauty of dead, blue-black sheen, and yet hideous,
+too, with their grisly necks and cruel, crooked beaks and vulture eyes,
+they were surely magnificent specimens of winged creation.
+
+Nests of dried weeds littered the ground, and eggs and young were
+everywhere. The little ones were covered with white down, and the
+developing feathers on their wings were turning black. They squalled
+unremittingly, which squalling I decided was not so much on my account
+as because of a swarm of black flies that attacked them when the mothers
+flew away. I was hard put to it myself to keep these flies, large as
+pennies and as flat, from eating me alive. They slipped up my sleeves
+and trousers and their bite made a wasp-sting pleasure by comparison.
+
+By rushing into a flock of _rabihorcados_ I succeeded several times in
+catching one in my hands. And spreading it out, I made guesses as to
+width from tip to tip of wings. None were under seven feet; one measured
+all of eight. They made no strenuous resistance and regarded me with
+cold eyes. Every flock that I put to flight left several dozen little
+ones squalling in the nests; and at one place an old booby waddled to
+the nests and began to maltreat the young _rabihorcados_. Instincts of
+humanity bade me scare the old brute away until I happened to remember
+the relation existing between the two species. Then I watched. With my
+own eyes I saw that grizzled booby pick and bite and wring those poor
+little birds with a grim and deadly deliberation. When the mothers, soon
+returning, fluttered down, they did not attack the booby, but protected
+their little ones by covering them with body and wings. Conviction came
+upon me that it was instinctive for the booby to kill the parasitical
+_rabihorcado_; and likewise instinctive for the _rabihorcado_ to
+preserve the life of the booby.
+
+A shout from Manuel directed me toward the extreme eastern end of the
+island. On the way I discovered many little dead birds, and the farther
+I went the more I found. Among the low bushes were also many old
+_rabihorcados_, dead and dry. Some were twisted among the network of
+branches, and several were hanging in limp, grotesque, horribly
+suggestive attitudes of death. Manuel had all of the Indian's leaning
+toward the mystical, and he believed the _rabihorcados_ had destroyed
+themselves. Starved they may very well have been, but to me the gales of
+that wind-swept, ocean desert accounted for the hanging _rabihorcados_.
+Still, when face to face with the island, with its strife, and its
+illustration of the survival of the fittest, all that Manuel had claimed
+and more, I had to acknowledge the disquieting force of the thing and
+its stunning blow to an imagined knowledge of life and its secrets.
+
+Suddenly Manuel shouted and pointed westward. I saw long white streams
+of sea-birds coming toward the island. My glass showed them to be
+boobies. An instant later thousands of _rabihorcados_ took wing as if
+impelled by a common motive. Manuel ran ahead in his excitement, turning
+to shout to me, and then to point toward the wavering, swelling, white
+streams. I hurried after him, to that end of the island where we had
+landed, and I found the colony of boobies in a state of great
+perturbation. All were squawking, flapping wings, and waddling
+frantically about. Here was fear such as had not appeared on my advent.
+
+Thousands of boobies were returning from deep-sea fishing, and as they
+neared the island they were met and set upon by a swarming army of
+_rabihorcados_. Darting white and black streaks crossed the blue of sky
+like a changeful web. The air was full of plaintive cries and hoarse
+croaks and the windy rush of wings. So marvelous was this scene of
+incredibly swift action, of kaleidoscopic change, of streaking lines and
+curves, that the tragedy at first was lost upon me. Then the shrieking
+of a booby told me that the robber birds were after their prey. Manuel
+lay flat on the ground to avoid being struck by low-flying birds, but I
+remained standing in order to see the better. Faster and faster circled
+the pursued and pursuers and louder grew the cries and croaks. My gaze
+was bewildered by the endless, eddying stream of birds.
+
+Then I turned my back on sea and beach where this bee-swarm confused my
+vision, and looked to see single boobies whirling here and there with
+two or three black demons in pursuit. I picked out one group and turned
+my glass upon it. Many battles had I seen by field and stream and
+mountain, but this unequal battle by sea eclipsed all. The booby's
+mother instinct was to get to her young with the precious fish that
+meant life. And she would have been more than a match for any one thief.
+But she could not cope successfully with two fierce _rabihorcados_; for
+one soared above her, resting, watching, while the other darted and
+whirled to the attack. They changed, now one black demon swooping down,
+and then the other, in calculating, pitiless pursuit. How glorious she
+was in poise and swerve and sweep! For what seemed a long time neither
+_rabihorcado_ touched her. What distance she could have placed between
+them but for that faithful mother instinct! She kept circling, ever
+returning, drawn back toward the sand by the magnet of love; and the
+powerful wings seemed slowly to lose strength. Closer the _rabihorcados_
+swooped and rose and swooped again, till one of them, shooting down like
+a black flash, struck her in the back. The white feathers flew away on
+the wind. She swept up, appeared to pause wearily and quiver, then
+disgorged her fish. It glinted in the sunlight. The _rabihorcado_
+dropped in easy, downward curve and caught it as it fell.
+
+So the struggle for existence continued till I seemed to see all the
+world before me with its myriads of wild creatures preying upon one
+another; the spirit of nature, unquenchable as the fires of the sun,
+continuing ceaseless and imperturbable in its inscrutable design.
+
+As we rowed away I looked back. Sky of a dull purple, like smoke with
+fire behind it, framed the birds of power and prey in colors suitable to
+their spirit. My ears were filled with the haunting sound of the sea,
+the sad wash of the surf, the harmonious and mournful music of the
+Island of the Dead.
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+THE ROYAL PURPLE GAME OF THE SEA
+
+
+To the great majority of anglers it may seem unreasonable to place
+swordfishing in a class by itself--by far the most magnificent sport in
+the world with rod and reel. Yet I do not hesitate to make this
+statement and believe I can prove it.
+
+The sport is young at this writing--very little has been written by men
+who have caught swordfish. It was this that attracted me. Quite a number
+of fishermen have caught a swordfish. But every one of them will have
+something different to tell you and the information thus gleaned is apt
+to leave you at sea, both metaphorically and actually. Quite a number of
+fishermen, out after yellowtail, have sighted a swordfish, and with the
+assistance of heavy tackle and their boatmen have caught that swordfish.
+Some few men have caught a small swordfish so quickly and easily that
+they cannot appreciate what happened. On the other hand, one very large
+swordfish, a record, was caught in an hour, after a loggy rolling about,
+like a shark, without leaping. But these are not fighting swordfish. Of
+course, under any circumstances, it is an event to catch a swordfish.
+But the accidents, the flukes, the lucky stabs of the game, do not in
+any sense prove what swordfishing is or what it is not.
+
+In August, 1914, I arrived at Avalon with tuna experience behind me,
+with tarpon experience, and all the other kinds of fishing experience,
+even to the hooking of a swordfish in Mexico. I am inclined to confess
+that all this experience made me--well, somewhat too assured. Any one
+will excuse my enthusiasm. The day of my arrival I met Parker, the
+genial taxidermist of Avalon, and I started to tell him how I wanted my
+swordfish mounted. He interrupted me: "Say, young fellow, you want to
+catch a swordfish first!" One of the tuna boatmen gave me a harder jolt.
+He said: "Well, if you fish steadily for a couple of weeks, maybe you'll
+get a strike. And one swordfish caught out of ten strikes is good work!"
+But Danielson was optimistic and encouraging, as any good boatman ought
+to be. If I had not been fortunate enough to secure Captain Dan as my
+boatman, it is certain that one of the most wonderful fishing
+experiences on record would have fallen to some other fisherman, instead
+of to me.
+
+We went over to Clemente Island, which is thirty-six miles from Catalina
+Island. Clemente is a mountain rising out of the sea, uninhabited,
+lonely, wild, and beautiful. But I will tell about the island later.
+
+The weather was perfect, the conditions were apparently ideal. I shall
+never forget the sight of the first swordfish, with his great
+sickle-shaped tail and his purple fin. Nor am I likely to forget my
+disappointment when he totally ignored the flying-fish bait we trolled
+before him.
+
+That experience was but a forerunner to others just like it. Every day
+we sighted one or more swordfish. But we could not get one to take hold.
+Captain Dan said there was more chance of getting a strike from a
+swordfish that was not visible rolling on the surface. Now a flying-fish
+bait makes a rather heavy bait to troll; and as it is imperative to have
+the reel free running and held lightly with the thumb, after a few hours
+such trolling becomes hard work. Hard as it was, it did not wear on me
+like the strain of being always ready for a strike. I doubt if any
+fisherman could stand this strain.
+
+In twenty-one days I had seen nineteen swordfish, several of which had
+leaped playfully, or to shake off the remoras--parasite, blood-sucking
+little fish--and the sight of every one had only served to increase my
+fascination. By this time I had realized something of the difficult
+nature of the game, and I had begun to have an inkling of what sport it
+might be. During those twenty-one days we had trolled fifteen hundred
+miles, altogether, up and down that twenty-five-mile coast of rugged
+Clemente. And we had trolled round these fish in every conceivable way.
+I cannot begin to describe my sensations when we circled round a
+swordfish, and they grew more intense and acute as the strain and
+suspense dragged. Captain Dan, of course, was mostly dominated by my
+feeling. All the same, I think the strain affected him on his own
+account.
+
+Then one day Boschen came over to Clemente with Farnsworth--and let me
+explain, by the way, that Boschen is probably the greatest heavy tackle
+fisherman living. Boschen would not fish for anything except tuna or
+swordfish, and up to this visit to Clemente he had caught many tuna, but
+only one swordfish, a _Xiphias_. This is the broadbill, or true,
+swordfish; and he is even rarer, and certainly larger and fiercer, than
+the Marlin, or roundbill, swordfish. This time at Clemente, Boschen
+caught his first Marlin and it weighed over three hundred pounds, leaped
+clear into the air sixty-three times, and gave a spectacular and
+magnificent surface fight that simply beggared description.
+
+ [Illustration: A SWORDFISH LEAPING OFF THE BOLD BLACK SHORE OF
+ CLEMENTE]
+
+ [Illustration: ON THE RAMPAGE]
+
+It made me wild to catch one, of like weight and ferocity. I spent
+several more endless days in vain. Then on the twenty-fifth day, way off
+the east end of Clemente, we sighted a swordfish with a tail almost
+pink. He had just come to those waters and had not yet gotten sunburnt.
+We did not have to circle round him! At long distance he saw my bait,
+and as he went under I saw he had headed for it. I remember that I shook
+all over. And when I felt him take that bait, thrill on thrill
+electrified me. Steadily the line ran off the reel. Then Captain Dan
+leaned over and whispered, hoarsely:
+
+"When you think he's had enough throw on your drag and strike. Then wind
+quick and strike again.... Wind and strike! Keep it up till he shows!"
+
+Despite my intense excitement, I was calm enough to follow directions.
+But when I struck I felt no weight at all--no strain on the line.
+Frantically I wound and jerked--again and again! I never felt him at
+all. Suddenly my line rose--and then, bewilderingly near the boat, when
+I was looking far off, the water split with a roar and out shot a huge,
+gleaming, white-and-purple fish. He blurred in my sight. Down he went
+with a crash. I wound the reel like a madman, but I never even half got
+up the slack line. The swordfish had run straight toward the boat. He
+leaped again, in a place I did not expect, and going down, instantly
+came up in another direction. His speed, his savageness, stunned me. I
+could not judge of his strength, for I never felt his weight. The next
+leap I saw him sling the hook. It was a great performance. Then that
+swordfish, finding himself free, leaped for the open sea, and every few
+yards he came out in a clean jump. I watched him, too fascinated to
+count the times he broke water, but he kept it up till he was out of
+sight on the horizon.
+
+At first Captain Dan took the loss harder than I took it. But gradually
+I realized what had happened, and, though I made a brave effort to be
+game and cheerful, I was sick. It did seem hard that, after all those
+twenty-five days of patience and hope and toil, I could not have hooked
+the swordfish. I see now that it was nothing, only an incident, but I
+shall never forget the pang.
+
+That day ended my 1914 experience. The strain had been too hard on me.
+It had taken all this time for me to appreciate what swordfishing might
+be. I assured Captain Dan I would come back in 1915, but at the time he
+did not believe me. He said:
+
+"If you hadn't stuck it out so long I wouldn't care. Most of the
+fishermen try only a few days and never come back. Don't quit now!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+But I did go back in 1915. Long ago on my lonely desert trips I learned
+the value of companions and I dreaded the strain of this swordfishing
+game. I needed some one to help lessen it. Besides that, I needed
+snapshot pictures of leaping swordfish, and it was obvious that Captain
+Dan and I would have our hands full when a fish got hooked. We had
+music, books, magazines--everything that could be thought of.
+
+Murphy, the famous old Avalon fisherman and tackle-maker, had made me a
+double split-bamboo rod, and I had brought the much-talked-of B-Ocean
+reel. This is Boschen's invention--one he was years in perfecting. It
+held fifteen hundred feet of No. 24 line. And I will say now that it is
+a grand reel, the best on the market. But I did not know that then, and
+had to go through the trip with it, till we were both tried out. Lastly,
+and most important, I had worked to get into condition to fight
+swordfish. For weeks I rowed a boat at home to get arms and back in
+shape, and especially my hands. Let no fisherman imagine he can land a
+fighting swordfish with soft hands!
+
+So, prepared for a long, hard strain, like that of 1914, I left Avalon
+hopeful, of course, but serious, determined, and alive to the
+possibilities of failure.
+
+I did not troll across the channel between the islands. There was a big
+swell running, and four hours of it gave me a disagreeable feeling. Now
+and then I got up to see how far off Clemente was. And upon the last of
+these occasions I saw the fins of a swordfish right across our bow. I
+yelled to Captain Dan. He turned the boat aside, almost on top of the
+swordfish. Hurriedly I put a bait on my hook and got it overboard, and
+let the line run. Then I looked about for the swordfish. He had gone
+down.
+
+It seemed then that, simultaneously with the recurrence of a peculiar
+and familiar disappointment, a heavy and powerful fish viciously took my
+bait and swept away. I yelled to Captain Dan:
+
+"He's got it!" ...
+
+Captain Dan stopped the engine and came to my side. "No!" he exclaimed.
+
+Then I replied, "Look at that line!" ...
+
+It seemed like a dream. Too good to be true! I let out a shout when I
+hooked him and a yell of joy when he broke water--a big swordfish, over
+two hundred pounds. What really transpired on Captain Dan's boat the
+following few moments I cannot adequately describe. Suffice to say that
+it was violent effort, excitement, and hilarity. I never counted the
+leaps of the swordfish. I never clearly saw him after that first leap.
+He seemed only a gleam in flying spray. Still, I did not make any
+mistakes.
+
+At the end of perhaps a quarter of an hour the swordfish quit his
+surface work and settled down to under-water fighting, and I began to
+find myself. Captain Dan played the phonograph, laughed, and joked while
+I fought the fish. My companions watched my rod and line and the water,
+wide-eyed and mute, as if they could not believe what seemed true.
+
+In about an hour and a half the swordfish came up and, tired out, he
+rolled on the top of the great swells. But he could not be drawn near
+the boat. One little wave of his tail made my rod bend dangerously.
+Still, I knew I had him beaten, and I calculated that in another hour,
+perhaps, I could lead him alongside.
+
+ [Illustration: SWORDFISH ON THE SURFACE]
+
+ [Illustration: HOLDING HARD]
+
+Then, like thunder out of a clear sky, something went wrong with the
+great B-Ocean reel. It worked hard. When a big swell carried the
+swordfish up, pulling out line, the reel rasped.
+
+"It's freezing on you!" shouted Captain Dan, with dark glance.
+
+A new reel sometimes clogs and stops from friction and heat. I had had
+von Hofe and other reels freeze. But in this instance, it seemed that
+for the reel to freeze would be simply heartbreaking. Well--it froze,
+tight as a shut vise! I sat there, clutching the vibrating rod, and I
+watched the swordfish as the swells lifted him. I expected the line to
+break, but, instead, the hook tore out.
+
+Next day we sighted four swordfish and tried in vain to coax one to
+bite.
+
+Next day we sighted ten swordfish, which is a record for one day. They
+were indifferent.
+
+The next three. The next one, with like result. The next day no fish
+were sighted, and that fact encouraged Captain Dan.
+
+The next day, late in the afternoon, I had a strike and hooked a
+swordfish. He leaped twice and threw the hook.
+
+The next day I got eleven jumps out of another before he gracefully
+flung the hook at the boat.
+
+The next day, a big swordfish, with a ragged purple fin, took my bait
+right astern of the boat and sounded deep. I hooked him. Time and time
+again I struck with all my might. The fish did not seem to mind that.
+He swam along with the boat. He appeared very heavy. I was elated and
+curious.
+
+"What's he going to do?" I kept asking Captain Dan.
+
+"Wait!" he exclaimed.
+
+After six minutes the swordfish came up, probably annoyed by the hook
+fast in him. When he showed his flippers, as Captain Dan called them, we
+all burst out with wonder and awe. As yet I had no reason to fear a
+swordfish.
+
+"He's a whale!" yelled Captain Dan.
+
+Probably this fish measured eight feet between his dorsal fin and the
+great curved fluke of his tail, and that would make his total length
+over twelve feet.
+
+No doubt the swordfish associated the thing fast in his jaw with the
+boat, for he suddenly awoke. He lifted himself, wagging his sword,
+showing his great silvery side. Then he began to thresh. I never felt a
+quarter of such power at the end of a line. He went swift as a flash.
+Then he leaped sheer ahead, like a porpoise, only infinitely more
+active. We all yelled. He was of great size, over three hundred, broad,
+heavy, long, and the most violent and savage fish I ever had a look at.
+Then he rose half--two-thirds out of the water, shaking his massive
+head, jaws open, sword sweeping, and seemed to move across the water in
+a growing, boiling maelstrom of foam. This was the famous "walking on
+his tail" I had heard so much about. It was an incredible feat. He must
+have covered fifty yards. Then he plunged down, and turned swiftly in a
+curve toward the boat. He looked threatening to me. I could not manage
+the slack line. One more leap and he threw the hook. I found the point
+of the hook bent. It had never been embedded in his jaw. And also I
+found that his violent exercise had lasted just one minute. I wondered
+how long I would have lasted had the hook been deep-set.
+
+Next day I had a swordfish take my bait, swim away on the surface,
+showing the flying-fish plainly between his narrow beak, and after
+fooling with it for a while he ejected it.
+
+Next day I got a great splashing strike from another, without even a
+sight of the fish.
+
+Next day I hooked one that made nineteen beautiful leaps straightaway
+before he got rid of the hook.
+
+And about that time I was come to a sad pass. In fact, I could not
+sleep, eat, or rest. I was crazy on swordfish.
+
+Day after day, from early morning till late afternoon, aboard on the
+sea, trolling, watching, waiting, eternally on the alert, I had kept at
+the game. My emotional temperament made this game a particularly trying
+one. And every possible unlucky, unforeseen, and sickening thing that
+could happen to a fisherman had happened. I grew morbid, hopeless. I
+could no longer see the beauty of that wild and lonely island, nor the
+wonder of that smooth, blue Pacific, nor the myriad of strange
+sea-creatures. It was a bad state of mind which I could not wholly
+conquer. Only by going at it so hard, and sticking so long, without any
+rests, could I gain the experience I wanted. A man to be a great
+fisherman should have what makes Stewart White a great hunter--no
+emotions. If a lion charged me I would imagine a million things. Once
+when a Mexican _tigre_, a jaguar, charged me I--But that is not this
+story. Boschen has the temperament for a great fisherman. He is
+phlegmatic. All day--and day after day--he sits there, on trigger, so to
+speak, waiting for the strike that will come. He is so constituted that
+it does not matter to him how soon or how late the strike comes. To me
+the wait, the suspense, grew to be maddening. Yet I stuck it out, and in
+this I claim a victory, of which I am prouder than I am of the record
+that gave me more swordfish to my credit than any other fisherman has
+taken.
+
+On the next day, August 11th, about three o'clock, I saw a long, moving
+shadow back of my bait. I jumped up. There was the purple, drifting
+shape of a swordfish. I felt a slight vibration when he hit the bait
+with his sword. Then he took the bait. I hooked this swordfish. He
+leaped eight times before he started out to sea. He took us three miles.
+In an hour and five minutes I brought him to gaff--a small fish. Captain
+Dan would take no chances of losing him. He risked much when he grasped
+the waving sword with his right hand, and with the gaff in his left he
+hauled the swordfish aboard and let him slide down into the cockpit. For
+Captain Dan it was no less an overcoming of obstinate difficulty than
+for me. He was as elated as I, but I forgot the past long, long siege,
+while he remembered it.
+
+That swordfish certainly looked a tiger of the sea. He had purple fins,
+long, graceful, sharp; purple stripes on a background of dark, mottled
+bronze green; mother-of-pearl tint fading into the green; and great
+opal eyes with dark spots in the center. The colors came out most
+vividly and exquisitely, the purple blazing, just as the swordfish
+trembled his last and died. He was nine feet two inches long and weighed
+one hundred and eighteen pounds.
+
+ [Illustration: A CLEAN GREYHOUND LEAP]
+
+ [Illustration: 316-POUND SWORDFISH]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I caught one the next day, one hundred and forty-four pounds. Fought
+another the next day and he threw the hook after a half-hour. Caught two
+the following day--one hundred and twenty, and one hundred and sixty-six
+pounds. And then, Captain Dan foreshadowing my remarkable finish,
+exclaimed:
+
+"I'm lookin' for busted records now!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+One day about noon the sea was calm except up toward the west end, where
+a wind was whipping the water white. Clemente Island towered with its
+steep slopes of wild oats and its blue ca�ons full of haze.
+
+Captain Dan said he had seen a big swordfish jump off to the west, and
+we put on full speed. He must have been a mile out and just where the
+breeze ruffled the water. As good luck would have it, we came upon the
+fish on the surface. I consider this a fine piece of judgment for
+Captain Dan, to locate him at that distance. He was a monster and fresh
+run from the outside sea. That is to say, his great fin and tail were
+violet, almost pink in color. They had not had time to get sunburnt, as
+those of fish earlier arrived at Clemente.
+
+We made a wide circle round him, to draw the flying-fish bait near him.
+But before we could get it near he went down. The same old story, I
+thought, with despair--these floating fish will not bite. We circled
+over the place where he had gone down, and I watched my bait rising and
+falling in the low swells.
+
+Suddenly Captain Dan yelled and I saw a great blaze of purple and silver
+green flashing after my bait. It was the swordfish, and he took the bait
+on the run. That was a moment for a fisherman! I found it almost
+impossible to let him have enough line. All that I remember about the
+hooking of him was a tremendous shock. His first dash was irresistibly
+powerful, and I had a sensation of the absurdity of trying to stop a
+fish like that. Then the line began to rise on the surface and to
+lengthen in my sight, and I tried to control my rapture and fear enough
+to be able to see him clearly when he leaped. The water split, and up he
+shot--a huge, glittering, savage, beautiful creature, all purple and
+opal in the sunlight. He did not get all the way out of the water, but
+when he dropped back he made the water roar.
+
+Then, tearing off line, he was out of the water in similar leaps--seven
+times more. Captain Dan had his work cut out for him as well as I had
+mine. It was utterly impossible to keep a tight line, and when I felt
+the slacking of weight I grew numb and sick--thinking he was gone. But
+he suddenly straightened the line with a jerk that lifted me, and he
+started inshore. He had about four hundred feet of line out, and more
+slipping out as if the drag was not there. Captain Dan headed the boat
+after him at full speed. Then followed a most thrilling race. It was
+over very quickly, but it seemed an age. When he stopped and went down
+he had pulled thirteen hundred feet off my reel while we were chasing
+him at full speed. While he sounded I got back half of this line. I wish
+I could give some impression of the extraordinary strength and speed of
+this royal purple fish of the sea. He came up again, in two more leaps,
+one of which showed me his breadth of back, and then again was performed
+for me the feature of which I had heard so much and which has made the
+swordfish the most famous of all fish--he rose two-thirds out of the
+water, I suppose by reason of the enormous power of his tail, though it
+seemed like magic, and then he began to walk across the sea in a great
+circle of white foam, wagging his massive head, sword flying, jaws wide,
+dorsal fin savagely erect, like a lion's mane. He was magnificent. I
+have never seen fury so expressed or such an unquenchable spirit. Then
+he dropped back with a sudden splash, and went down and down and down.
+
+All swordfish fight differently, and this one adopted tuna tactics. He
+sounded and began to plug away and bang the leader with his tail. He
+would take off three hundred feet of line, and then, as he slowed up, I,
+by the labor of Hercules, pulled and pumped and wound most of it back on
+the reel. This kept up for an hour--surely the hardest hour's work of my
+life.
+
+But a swordfish is changeable. That is the beauty of his gameness. He
+left off sounding and came up to fight on the surface. In the next hour
+he pulled us from the Fence to Long Point, a distance of four miles.
+
+Once off the Point, where the tide rip is strong, he began to circle in
+great, wide circles. Strangely, he did not put out to sea. And here,
+during the next hour, I had the finest of experiences I think that ever
+befell a fisherman. I was hooked to a monster fighting swordfish; I was
+wet with sweat, and salt water that had dripped from my reel, and I was
+aching in every muscle. The sun was setting in banks of gold and silver
+fog over the west end, and the sea was opalescent--vast, shimmering,
+heaving, beautiful. And at this sunset moment, or hour--for time seemed
+nothing--a school of giant tuna began leaping around us, smashing the
+water, making the flying-fish rise in clouds, like drifting bees. I saw
+a whole flock of flying-fish rise into the air with that sunset glow and
+color in the background, and the exquisite beauty of life and movement
+was indescribable. Next a bald eagle came soaring down, and, swooping
+along the surface, he lowered his talons to pick up a crippled
+flying-fish. And when the hoary-headed bird rose, a golden eagle, larger
+and more powerful, began to contest with him for the prey.
+
+Then the sky darkened and the moon whitened--and my fight went on. I had
+taken the precaution to work for two months at rowing to harden my hands
+for just such a fight as this. Yet my hands suffered greatly. A man who
+is not in the best of physical trim, with his hands hard, cannot hope to
+land a big swordfish.
+
+I was all afternoon at this final test, and all in, too, but at last I
+brought him near enough for Captain Dan to grasp the leader.... Then
+there was something doing around that boat for a spell! I was positive
+a German torpedo had hit us. But the explosion was only the swordfish's
+tail and Dan's voice yelling for another gaff. When Captain Dan got the
+second gaff in him there was another submarine attack, but the boat did
+not sink.
+
+Next came the job of lassoing the monster's tail. Here I shone, for I
+had lassoed mountain-lions with Buffalo Jones, and I was efficient and
+quick. Captain Dan and I were unable to haul the fish on board, and we
+had to get out the block and tackle and lift the tail on deck, secure
+that, and then pull up the head from the other side. After that I needed
+some kind of tackle to hold me up.
+
+We were miles from camp, and I was wet and cold and exhausted, and the
+pain in my blistered hands was excruciating. But not soon shall I forget
+that ride down the shore with the sea so rippling and moon-blanched, and
+the boom of the surf on the rocks, and the peaks of the island standing
+bold and dark against the white stars.
+
+This swordfish weighed three hundred and sixteen pounds on faulty scales
+at Clemente. He very likely weighed much more. He was the largest
+Captain Dan ever saw, up to that time. Al Shade guessed his weight at
+three hundred and sixty. The market fishermen, who put in at the little
+harbor the next day, judged him way over three hundred, and these men
+are accurate. The fish hung head down for a day and night, lost all the
+water and blood and feed in him, and another day later, when landed at
+Avalon, he had lost considerable. There were fishermen who discredited
+Captain Dan and me, who in our enthusiasm claimed a record.
+
+But--that sort of thing is one of the aspects of the sport. I was sorry,
+for Captain Dan's sake. The rivalries between boatmen are keen and
+important, and they are fostered by unsportsman-like fishermen. And
+fishermen live among past associations; they grow to believe their
+performances unbeatable and they hate to see a new king crowned. This
+may be human, since we are creatures who want always to excel, but it is
+irritating to the young fishermen. As for myself, what did I care how
+much the swordfish weighed? He was huge, magnificent, beautiful, and
+game to the end of that four-hour battle. Who or what could change
+that--or the memory of those schools of flying-fish in the sunset
+glow--or the giant tuna, smashing the water all about me--or the eagles
+fighting over my head--or the beauty of wild and lonely Clemente under
+its silver cloud-banks?
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I went on catching one or two swordfish every day, and Captain Dan
+averred that the day would come when we would swamp the boat. These days
+were fruitful of the knowledge of swordfish that I had longed to earn.
+
+They are indeed "queer birds." I learned to recognize the sharp
+vibration of my line when a swordfish rapped the bait with his sword. No
+doubt he thought he thus killed his prey. Then the strike would come
+invariably soon after. No two swordfish acted or fought alike. I hooked
+one that refused to stand the strain of the line. He followed the boat,
+and was easily gaffed. I hooked another, a heavy fish, that did not show
+for two hours. We were sure we had a broadbill, and were correspondingly
+worried. The broadbill swordfish is a different proposition. He is
+larger, fiercer, and tireless. He will charge the boat, and nothing but
+the churning propeller will keep him from ramming the boat. There were
+eight broadbill swordfish hooked at Avalon during the summer, and not
+one brought to gaff. This is an old story. Only two have been caught to
+date. They are so powerful, so resistless, so desperate, and so cunning
+that it seems impossible to catch them. They will cut bait after bait
+off your hook as clean as if it had been done with a knife. For that
+matter, their broad bill is a straight, long, powerful two-edged sword.
+And the fish perfectly understands its use.
+
+This matter of swordfish charging the boat is apt to be discredited by
+fishermen. But it certainly is not doubted by the few who know. I have
+seen two swordfish threaten my boat, and one charge it. Walker, an
+Avalon boatman, tells of a prodigious battle his angler had with a
+broadbill giant calculated to weigh five hundred pounds. This fight
+lasted eight hours. Many times the swordfish charged the boat and lost
+his nerve. If that propeller had stopped he would have gone through the
+boat as if it had been paper. After this fish freed himself he was so
+mad that he charged the boat repeatedly. Boschen fought a big broadbill
+for eleven hours. And during this fight the swordfish sounded to the
+bottom forty-eight times, and had to be pumped up; he led the boat
+almost around Catalina Island--twenty-nine miles; and he had gotten out
+into the channel, headed for Clemente, when he broke away. This fish did
+everything. I consider this battle the greatest on record. Only a man of
+enormous strength and endurance could have lasted so long--not to speak
+of the skill and wits necessary on the part of both fisherman and
+boatman. All fishermen fish for the big fish, though it is sport to
+catch any game fish, irrespective of size. But let any fisherman who has
+nerve see and feel a big swordfish on his line, and from that moment he
+is obsessed. Why, a tarpon is child's play compared to holding a fast
+swordfish.
+
+It is my great ambition now to catch a broadbill. That would completely
+round out my fishing experience. And I shall try. But I doubt that I
+will be so fortunate. It takes a long time. Boschen was years catching
+his fish. Moreover, though it is hard to get a broadbill to bite--and
+harder to hook him--it is infinitely harder to do anything with him
+after you do get fast to him.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A word about Avalon boatmen. They are a fine body of men. I have heard
+them maligned. Certainly they have petty rivalries and jealousies, but
+this is not their fault. They fish all the seasons around and have been
+there for years. Boatmen at Long Key and other Florida resorts--at
+Tampico, Aransas Pass--are not in the same class with the Avalon men.
+They want to please and to excel, and to number you among their patrons
+for the future. And the boats--nowhere are there such splendid boats.
+Captain Danielson's boat had utterly spoiled me for fishing out of
+any other. He had it built, and the ideas of its construction were a
+product of fifteen years' study. It is thirty-eight feet long, and wide,
+with roomy, shaded cockpit and cabin, and comfortable revolving chairs
+to fish from. These chairs have moving sockets into which you can jam
+the butt of your rod; and the backs can be removed in a flash. Then you
+can haul at a fish! The boat lies deep, with heavy ballast in the stern.
+It has a keel all the way, and an enormous rudder. Both are constructed
+so your line can slip under the boat without fouling. It is equipped
+with sail and a powerful engine. Danielson can turn this boat, going at
+full speed, in its own length! Consider the merit of this when a tuna
+strikes, or a swordfish starts for the open sea. How many tarpon,
+barracuda, amberjack, and tuna I have lost on the Atlantic seaboard just
+because the boat could not be turned in time!
+
+ [Illustration: THE WILD OATS SLOPE OF CLEMENTE]
+
+ [Illustration: WHERE THE DEEP-BLUE SWELL BOOMS AGAINST THE LAVA WALL
+ OF CLEMENTE ISLAND]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Clemente Island is a mountain of cliffs and caves. It must be of
+volcanic origin, and when the lava rose, hot and boiling, great
+blow-holes formed, and hardened to make the caves. It is an exceedingly
+beautiful island. The fishing side is on the north, or lee, shore, where
+the water is very deep right off the rocks. There are kelp-beds along
+the shore, and the combination of deep water, kelp, and small fish is
+what holds the swordfish there in August and September. I have seen
+acres of flying-fish in the air at once, and great swarms of yellowtail,
+basking on the surface. The color of the water is indigo blue, clear as
+crystal. Always a fascinating thing for me was to watch the water for
+new and different fish, strange marine creatures, life of some kind. And
+the watching was always rewarded. I have been close to schools of
+devilish blackfish, and I have watched great whales play all around me.
+What a spectacle to see a whale roll and dip his enormous body and bend
+and sound, lifting the huge, glistening flukes of his tail, wide as a
+house! I hate sharks and have caught many, both little and big. When you
+are watching for swordfish it is no fun to have a big shark break for
+your bait, throw the water, get your hook, and lift you from your seat.
+It happened often. But sometimes when I was sure it was a shark it was
+really a swordfish! I used to love to watch the sunfish leap, they are
+so round and glistening and awkward. I could tell one two miles away.
+The blue shark leaps often and he always turns clear over. You cannot
+mistake it. Nor can you mistake a swordfish when he breaks, even though
+you only see the splash. He makes two great sheets of water rise and
+fall. Probably all these fish leap to shake off the remoras. A remora is
+a parasite, a queer little fish, pale in color, because he probably
+lives inside the gills of the fish he preys upon, with the suckers on
+top of his head, arranged in a shield, ribbed like a washboard. This
+little fish is as mysterious as any creature of the sea. He is as swift
+as lightning. He can run over the body of a swordfish so quickly you
+can scarcely follow his movement, and at all times he is fast to the
+swordfish, holding with that flat sucker head. Mr. Holder wrote years
+ago that the remora sticks to a fish just to be carried along, as a
+means of travel, but I do not incline to this belief. We found many
+remoras inside the gills of swordfish, and their presence there was
+evidence of their blood-sucking tendencies. I used to search every
+swordfish for these remoras, and I would keep them in a bucket till
+we got to our anchorage. A school of tame rock-bass there, and tame
+yellowtail, and a few great sea-bass were always waiting for us--for our
+discarded bait or fish of some kind. But when I threw in a live remora,
+how these hungry fish did dart away! Life in the ocean is strange,
+complex, ferocious, and wonderful.
+
+Al Shade keeps the only camp at Clemente. It is a clean, comfortable,
+delightful place. I have found no place where sleep is so easy, so
+sweet, so deep. Shade lives a lonely life there ten months in the year.
+And it is no wonder that when a fisherman arrives Al almost kills
+himself in his good humor and kindness and usefulness. Men who live
+lonely lives are always glad to see their fellow-men. But he loves
+Clemente Island. Who would not?
+
+When I think of it many pictures come to mind--evening with the sea
+rolling high and waves curving shoreward in great dark ripples, that
+break and spread white and run up the strand. The sky is pale blue
+above, a green sheen low down, with white stars blinking. The
+promontories run down into the sea, sheer, black, rugged, bold, mighty.
+The surf is loud and deep, detonating, and the pebbles scream as the
+waves draw them down. Strange to realize that surf when on the morrow
+the sea will be like glass--not a wave nor a ripple under the gray fog!
+Wild and beautiful Clemente--the island of caves and ca�ons and
+cliffs--lilac and cactus and ice-plant and arbor-vit� and ironwood, with
+the wild goats silhouetted dark against the bold sky-line!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+There came that day of all days. I never believed Captain Dan, but now I
+shall never forget. The greatest day that ever befell me! I brought four
+swordfish to gaff and whipped another, the biggest one of the whole
+trip, and saw him tear away from the hook just at the last--in all, nine
+hours of strenuous hanging on to a rod.
+
+I caught the first one before six o'clock, as the sun was rising
+red-gold, dazzling, glorious. He leaped in the sun eleven times. He
+weighed one hundred and eighty-seven.
+
+After breakfast we sighted two swordfish on the smooth sea. Both charged
+the bait. I hooked one of these and he leaped twenty-three times. He
+weighed one hundred and sixty-eight.
+
+Then off the east end we saw a big swordfish leap five times. We went
+out toward the open sea. But we never got anywhere near him. I had three
+strikes, one after another, when we were speeding the boat. Then we shut
+down and took to slow trolling. I saw another swordfish sail for my
+bait, and yelled. He shot off with the bait and his dorsal fin stuck out
+of the water. I hooked him. He leaped thirty-eight times. How the camera
+did snap during this fight! He weighed two hundred and ten.
+
+I had a fierce strike on the way in. Too fast! We lost him.
+
+"The sea's alive with swordfish!" cried Captain Dan. "It's the day!"
+
+Then I awoke to my opportunity.
+
+Round the east end, close to the great black bluff, where the swells
+pile up so thunderously, I spied the biggest purple fin I had ever seen.
+This fellow came to meet us--took my bait. I hooked at him, but did not
+hurt or scare him. Finally I pulled the hook out of him. While I was
+reeling in my line suddenly a huge purple shadow hove in sight. It was
+the swordfish--and certainly one of immense size--the hugest yet.
+
+"He's following the boat!" yelled Captain Dan, in great excitement.
+
+So I saw, but I could not speak or yell. All was intense excitement on
+that boat. I jumped up on the stern, holding the bait Captain Dan had
+put on my hook. Then I paused to look. We all looked, spellbound. That
+was a sight of a lifetime. There he swam, the monster, a few feet under
+the surface, only a rod back of the boat. I had no calm judgment with
+which to measure his dimensions. I only saw that he was tremendous and
+beautiful. His great, yard-wide fins gleamed royal purple. And the
+purple strips crossed his silver sides. He glowed in the water, changed
+color like a chameleon, and drifted, floated after us. I thought of my
+brother Reddy--how he would have gloried in that sight! I thought of
+Dilg, of Bob Davis, of Professor Kellogg--other great fishermen, all in
+a flash. Indeed, though I gloated over my fortune, I was not selfish.
+Then I threw in the flying-fish bait. The swordfish loomed up, while my
+heart ceased to beat. There, in plain sight, he took the bait, as a
+trout might have taken a grasshopper. Slowly he sank. The line began to
+slip off the reel. He ceased to be a bright purple mass--grew dim--then
+vague--and disappeared.
+
+I sat down, jammed the rod in the socket, and got ready. For the life of
+me I could not steady my legs.
+
+"What'll he weigh?" I gasped.
+
+"O Lord! he looked twice as big as the big one you got," replied Dan.
+
+"Stand by with the cameras!" I said to my companions, and as they lined
+up, two on one side and one on the other, I began to strike at that fish
+with all my might and main. I must have had at least twelve powerful
+strikes before he began to wake up.
+
+Then!
+
+He came up, throwing the water in angry spouts. If he did not threaten
+the boat I was crazy. He began an exhibition that dwarfed any other I
+had seen, and it was so swift that I could scarcely follow him. Yet when
+I saw the line rise, and then the wonderful, long, shiny body, instinct
+with fury, shoot into the air, I yelled the number of the leap, and this
+was the signal for the camera-workers. They held the cameras close,
+without trying to focus, facing the fish, and they snapped when I
+yelled. It was all gloriously exciting. I could never describe that
+exhibition. I only know that he leaped clear forty-six times, and after
+a swift, hard hour for me he got away. Strangely, I was almost happy
+that he had shaken loose, for he had given such remarkable opportunities
+for pictures.
+
+Captain Dan threw the wheel hard over and the boat turned. The
+swordfish, tired out and unconscious of freedom, was floating near the
+surface, a drifting blaze of purple. The boat sheered close to him.
+Captain Dan reached over with a gaff--and all but gaffed that swordfish
+before he sank too deep. Captain Dan was white with disappointment. That
+more than anything showed me his earnestness, what it all meant to him.
+
+On the way in, for we had been led out a couple of miles, I saw a blue
+streak after my bait, and I was ready before the swordfish got to it. He
+struck viciously and I dared not let him have much line. When I hooked
+him he started out to sea at a clip that smoked the line off my reel.
+Captain Dan got the boat turned before the swordfish began to leap. Then
+it was almost a straightaway race. This fellow was a greyhound leaper.
+He did not churn the water, nor dash to and fro on the surface, but kept
+steadily leaping ahead. He cleared the water thirty-nine times before he
+gave up leaping. Then he sounded. The line went slack. I thought he was
+gone. Suddenly he showed again, in a white splash, and he was not half
+as far away as when he went down. Then I felt the pull on the line. It
+was heavy, for he had left a great bag in it. I endeavored to recover
+line, but it came in very slowly. The swordfish then threshed on the
+surface so that we could hear the water crack. But he did not leap
+again. He had gone mad with rage. He seemed to have no sense of
+direction. He went down again, only to rush up, still closer to us. Then
+it was plain he saw the nature of his foe. Splitting water like a swift
+motor-boat, he charged us.
+
+I had a cold sensation, but was too excited to be afraid. Almost I
+forgot to reel in.
+
+"He's after us!" I said, grimly.
+
+Captain Dan started the boat ahead fast. The swordfish got out of line
+with the boat. But he was close, and he made me think of the charging
+rhinoceros Dugmore photographed. And then I yelled for the cameras to be
+snapped. They all clicked--and then, when the swordfish shot close
+behind us, presenting the most magnificent picture, no one was ready!
+
+As he passed I thought I saw the line round his body. Then he sounded
+and began to plug. He towed us six miles out to sea. I could not stop
+him. I had begun to weaken. My hands were sights. My back hurt. But I
+stayed with him. He felt like a log and I could not recover line.
+Captain Dan said it was because I was almost all in, but I did not think
+that. Presently this swordfish turned inshore and towed us back the six
+miles. By this time it was late and I _was_ all in. But the swordfish
+did not seem nearer the boat. I got mad and found some reserve strength.
+I simply had to bring him to gaff. I pulled and pumped and wound until I
+was blind and could scarcely feel. My old blisters opened and bled. My
+left arm was dead. I seemed to have no more strength than a kitten. I
+could not lead the fish nor turn him. I had to drag and drag, inch by
+inch. It was agonizing. But finally I was encouraged by sight of him, a
+long, fine, game fellow. A hundred times I got the end of the double
+line near the leader in sight, only to lose it.
+
+Seven o'clock passed. I had fought this swordfish nearly three hours. I
+could not last much longer. I rested a little, holding hard, and then
+began a last and desperate effort to bring him to gaff. I was absolutely
+dripping with sweat, and red flashes passed before my eyes, and queer
+dots. The last supreme pull--all I had left--brought the end of the
+leader to Captain Dan's outstretched hand.
+
+The swordfish came in broadside. In the clear water we saw him plainly,
+beautifully striped tiger that he was! And we all saw that he had not
+been hooked. He had been lassoed. In some way the leader had looped
+around him with the hook catching under the wire. No wonder it had
+nearly killed me to bring him to the boat, and surely I never would have
+succeeded had it not been for the record Captain Dan coveted. That was
+the strangest feature in all my wonderful Clemente experience--to see
+that superb swordfish looped in a noose of my long leader. He was
+without a scratch. It may serve to give some faint idea of the
+bewildering possibilities in the pursuit of this royal purple game of
+the Pacific.
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+TWO FIGHTS WITH SWORDFISH
+
+
+My first day at Avalon, 1916, was one likely to be memorable among my
+fishing experiences.
+
+The weather (August 2d) was delightful--smooth, rippling sea, no wind,
+clear sky and warm. The Sierra Nevada Mountains shone dark above the
+horizon.
+
+A little before noon we passed my friend Lone Angler, who hailed us and
+said there was a big broadbill swordfish off in the steamer-course. We
+steered off in that direction.
+
+There were sunfish and sharks showing all around. Once I saw a whale.
+The sea was glassy, with a long, heaving swell. Birds were plentiful in
+scattered groups.
+
+We ran across a shark of small size and tried to get him to take a bait.
+He refused. A little later Captain Dan espied a fin, and upon running up
+we discovered the huge, brown, leathery tail and dorsal of a broadbill
+swordfish.
+
+Captain Dan advised a long line out so that we could circle the fish
+from a distance and not scare him. I do not remember any unusual
+excitement. I was curious and interested. Remembering all I had heard
+about these fish, I did not anticipate getting a strike from him.
+
+We circled him and drew the flying-fish bait so that he would swim near
+it. As it was, I had to reel in some. Presently we had the bait some
+twenty yards ahead of him. Then Captain Dan slowed down. The broadbill
+wiggled his tail and slid out of sight. Dan said he was going for my
+bait. But I did not believe so. Several moments passed. I had given up
+any little hope I might have had when I received a quick, strong,
+vibrating strike--different from any I had ever experienced. I suppose
+the strangeness was due to the shock he gave my line when he struck the
+bait with his sword. The line paid out unsteadily and slowly. I looked
+at Dan and he looked at me. Neither of us was excited nor particularly
+elated. I guess I did not realize what was actually going on.
+
+I let him have about one hundred and fifty feet of line.
+
+When I sat down to jam the rod-butt in the socket I had awakened to
+possibilities. Throwing on the drag and winding in until my line was
+taut, I struck hard--four times. He made impossible any more attempts at
+this by starting off on a heavy, irresistible rush. But he was not fast,
+or so it seemed to me. He did not get more than four hundred feet of
+line before we ran up on him. Presently he came to the surface to thresh
+around. He did not appear scared or angry. Probably he was annoyed at
+the pricking of the hook. But he kept moving, sometimes on the surface
+and sometimes beneath. I did not fight him hard, preferring to let him
+pull out the line, and then when he rested I worked on him to recover
+it. My idea was to keep a perpetual strain upon him.
+
+I do not think I had even a hope of bringing this fish to the boat.
+
+It was twelve o'clock exactly when I hooked him, and a quarter of an
+hour sped by. My first big thrill came when he leaped. This was a
+surprise. He was fooling round, and then, all of a sudden, he broke
+water clear. It was an awkward, ponderous action, and looked as if he
+had come up backward, like a bucking bronco. His size and his long,
+sinister sword amazed me and frightened me. It gave me a cold sensation
+to realize I was hooked to a huge, dangerous fish. But that in itself
+was a new kind of thrill. No boatman fears a Marlin as he does the true
+broadbill swordfish.
+
+My second thrill came when the fish lunged on the surface in a red foam.
+If I had hooked him so he bled freely there was a chance to land him!
+This approach to encouragement, however, was short-lived. He went down,
+and if I had been hooked to a submarine I could scarcely have felt more
+helpless. He sounded about five hundred feet and then sulked. I had the
+pleasant task of pumping him up. This brought the sweat out upon me and
+loosened me up. I began to fight him harder. And it seemed that as I
+increased the strain he grew stronger and a little more active. Still
+there was not any difference in his tactics. I began to get a conception
+of the vitality and endurance of a broadbill in contrast with the speed
+and savageness of his brother fish, the Marlin, or roundbill.
+
+At two o'clock matters were about the same. I was not tired, but
+certainly the fish was not tired, either. He came to the surface just
+about as much as he sounded. I had no difficulty at all in getting back
+the line he took, at least all save a hundred feet or so. When I tried
+to lead him or lift him--then I got his point of view. He would not
+budge an inch. There seemed nothing to do but let him work on the drag,
+and when he had pulled out a few hundred feet of line we ran up on him
+and I reeled in the line. Now and then I put all the strain I could on
+the rod and worked him that way.
+
+At three o'clock I began to get tired. My hands hurt. And I concluded I
+had been rather unlucky to start on a broadbill at the very beginning.
+
+From that time he showed less frequently, and, if anything, he grew
+slower and heavier. I felt no more rushes. And along about this time I
+found I could lead him somewhat. This made me begin to work hard. Yet,
+notwithstanding, I had no hope of capturing the fish. It was only
+experience.
+
+Captain Dan kept saying: "Well, you wanted to hook up with a broadbill!
+Now how do you like it?" He had no idea I would ever land him. Several
+times I asked him to give an opinion as to the size of the swordfish,
+but he would not venture that until he had gotten a good close view of
+him.
+
+At four o'clock I made the alarming discovery that the great B-Ocean
+reel was freezing, just as my other one had frozen on my first swordfish
+the year previous. Captain Dan used language. He threw up his hands. He
+gave up. But I did not.
+
+"Dan, see here," I said. "We'll run up on him, throw off a lot of slack
+line, then cut it and tie it to another reel!"
+
+"We might do that. But it'll disqualify the fish," he replied.
+
+Captain Dan, like all the boatmen at Avalon, has fixed ideas about the
+Tuna Club and its records and requirements. It is all right, I suppose,
+for a club to have rules, and not count or credit an angler who breaks a
+rod or is driven to the expedient I had proposed. But I do not fish for
+clubs or records. I fish for the fun, the excitement, the thrill of the
+game, and I would rather let my fish go than not. So I said:
+
+"We'll certainly lose the fish if we don't change reels. I am using the
+regulation tackle, and to my mind the more tackle we use, provided we
+land the fish, the more credit is due us. It is not an easy matter to
+change reels or lines or rods with a big fish working all the time."
+
+Captain Dan acquiesced, but told me to try fighting him a while with the
+light drag and the thumb-brake. So far only the heavy drag had frozen. I
+tried Dan's idea, to my exceeding discomfort; and the result was that
+the swordfish drew far away from us. Presently the reel froze solid. The
+handle would not turn. But with the drag off the spool ran free.
+
+Then we ran away from the fish, circling and letting out slack line.
+When we came to the end of the line we turned back a little, and with a
+big slack we took the risk of cutting the line and tying it on the other
+reel. We had just got this done when the line straightened tight! I
+wound in about twelve hundred feet of line and was tired and wet when I
+had gotten in all I could pull. This brought us to within a couple of
+hundred feet of our quarry. Also it brought us to five o'clock. Five
+hours!... I began to have queer sensations--aches, pains, tremblings,
+saggings. Likewise misgivings!
+
+About this period I determined to see how close to the boat I could pull
+him. I worked. The word "worked" is not readily understood until a man
+has tried to pull a big broadbill close to the boat. I pulled until I
+saw stars and my bones cracked. Then there was another crack. The rod
+broke at the reel seat! And the reel seat was bent. Fortunately the line
+could still pay out. And I held the tip while Dan pried and hammered the
+reel off the broken butt on to another one. Then he put the tip in that
+butt, and once more I had to reel in what seemed miles and miles of
+line.
+
+Five thirty! It seemed around the end of the world for me. We had
+drifted into a tide-rip about five miles east of Avalon, and in this
+rough water I had a terrible time trying to hold my fish. When I
+discovered that I could hold him--and therefore that he was playing
+out--then there burst upon me the dazzling hope of actually bringing him
+to gaff. It is something to fight a fish for more than five hours
+without one single hope of his capture. I had done that. And now,
+suddenly, to be fired with hope gave me new strength and spirit to work.
+The pain in my hands was excruciating. I was burning all over; wet and
+slippery, and aching in every muscle. These next few minutes seemed
+longer than all the hours. I found that to put the old strain on the
+rod made me blind with pain. There was no fun, no excitement, no thrill
+now. As I labored I could not help marveling at the strange, imbecile
+pursuits of mankind. Here I was in an agony, absolutely useless. Why did
+I keep it up? I could not give up, and I concluded I was crazy.
+
+I conceived the most unreasonable hatred for that poor swordfish that
+had done nothing to me and that certainly would have been justified in
+ramming the boat.
+
+To my despair the fish sounded deep, going down and down. Captain Dan
+watched the line. Finally it ceased to pay out.
+
+"Pump him up!" said Dan.
+
+This was funny. It was about as funny as death.
+
+I rested awhile and meditated upon the weakness of the flesh. The thing
+most desirable and beautiful in all the universe was rest. It was so
+sweet to think of that I was hard put to it to keep from tossing the rod
+overboard. There was something so desperately trying and painful in this
+fight with a broadbill. At last I drew a deep, long breath, and, with a
+pang in my breast and little stings all over me, I began to lift on him.
+He was at the bottom of the ocean. He was just as unattainable as the
+bottom of the ocean. But there are ethics of a sportsman!
+
+Inch by inch and foot by foot I pumped up this live and dragging weight.
+I sweat, I panted, I whistled, I bled--and my arms were dead, and my
+hands raw and my heart seemed about to burst.
+
+Suddenly Captain Dan electrified me.
+
+"There's the end of the double line!" he yelled.
+
+Unbelievable as it was, there the knot in the end of the short six feet
+of double line showed at the surface. I pumped and I reeled inch by
+inch.
+
+A long dark object showed indistinctly, wavered as the swells rose, then
+showed again. As I strained at the rod so I strained my eyes.
+
+"I see the leader!" yelled Dan, in great excitement.
+
+I saw it, too, and I spent the last ounce of strength left in me. Up and
+up came the long, dark, vague object.
+
+"You've got him licked!" exclaimed Dan. "Not a wag left in him!"
+
+It did seem so. And that bewildering instant saw the birth of assurance
+in me. I was going to get him! That was a grand instant for a fisherman.
+I could have lifted anything then.
+
+The swordfish became clear to my gaze. He was a devilish-looking
+monster, two feet thick across the back, twelve feet long over all, and
+he would have weighed at the least over four hundred pounds. And I had
+beaten him! That was there to be seen. He had none of the beauty and
+color of the roundbill swordfish. He was dark, almost black, with huge
+dorsal and tail, and a wicked broad sword fully four feet long. What
+terrified me was his enormous size and the deadly look of him. I
+expected to see him rush at the boat.
+
+Watching him thus, I reveled in my wonderful luck. Up to this date there
+had been only three of these rare fish caught in twenty-five years of
+Avalon fishing. And this one was far larger than those that had been
+taken.
+
+"Lift him! Closer!" called Captain Dan. "In two minutes I'll have a gaff
+in him!"
+
+I made a last effort. Dan reached for the leader.
+
+Then the hook tore out.
+
+My swordfish, without a movement of tail or fin, slowly sank--to vanish
+in the blue water.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+After resting my blistered hands for three days, which time was scarcely
+long enough to heal them, I could not resist the call of the sea.
+
+We went off Seal Rocks and trolled about five miles out. We met a
+sand-dabber who said he had seen a big broadbill back a ways. So we
+turned round. After a while I saw a big, vicious splash half a mile
+east, and we made for it. Then I soon espied the fish.
+
+We worked around him awhile, but he would not take a barracuda or a
+flying-fish.
+
+It was hard to keep track of him, on account of rough water. Soon he
+went down.
+
+Then a little later I saw what Dan called a Marlin. He had big flippers,
+wide apart. I took him for a broadbill.
+
+We circled him, and before he saw a bait he leaped twice, coming about
+half out, with belly toward us. He looked huge, but just how big it was
+impossible to say.
+
+After a while he came up, and we circled him. As the bait drifted round
+before him--twenty yards or more off--he gave that little wiggle of the
+tail sickle, and went under. I waited. I had given up hope when I felt
+him hit the bait. Then he ran off, pretty fast. I let him have a long
+line. Then I sat down and struck him. He surged off, and we all got
+ready to watch him leap. But he did not show.
+
+He swam off, sounded, came up, rolled around, went down again. But we
+did not get a look at him. He fought like any other heavy swordfish.
+
+In one and one-half hours I pulled him close to the boat, and we all saw
+him. But I did not get a good look at him as he wove to and fro behind
+the boat.
+
+Then he sounded.
+
+I began to work on him, and worked harder. He seemed to get stronger all
+the time.
+
+"He feels like a broadbill, I tell you," I said to Captain Dan.
+
+Dan shook his head, yet all the same he looked dubious.
+
+Then began a slow, persistent, hard battle between me and the fish, the
+severity of which I did not realize at the time. In hours like those
+time has wings. My hands grew hot. They itched, and I wanted to remove
+the wet gloves. But I did not, and sought to keep my mind off what had
+been half-healed blisters. Neither the fish nor I made any new moves, it
+all being plug on his part and give and take on mine. Slowly and
+doggedly he worked out toward the sea, and while the hours passed, just
+as persistently he circled back.
+
+Captain Dan came to stand beside me, earnestly watching the rod bend and
+the line stretch. He shook his head.
+
+"That's a big Marlin and you've got him foul-hooked," he asserted. This
+statement was made at the end of three hours and more. I did not agree.
+Dan and I often had arguments. He always tackled me when I was in some
+such situation as this--for then, of course, he had the best of it. My
+brother Rome was in the boat that day, an intensely interested observer.
+He had not as yet hooked a swordfish.
+
+"It's a German submarine!" he declared.
+
+My brother's wife and the other ladies with us on board were inclined to
+favor my side; at least they were sorry for the fish and said he must be
+very big.
+
+"Dan, I could tell a foul-hooked fish," I asserted, positively. "This
+fellow is too alive--too limber. He doesn't sag like a dead weight."
+
+"Well, if he's not foul-hooked, then you're all in," replied the
+captain.
+
+Cheerful acquiescence is a desirable trait in any one, especially an
+angler who aspires to things, but that was left out in the ordering of
+my complex disposition. However, to get angry makes a man fight harder,
+and so it was with me.
+
+At the end of five hours Dan suggested putting the harness on me. This
+contrivance, by the way, is a thing of straps and buckles, and its use
+is to fit over an angler's shoulders and to snap on the rod. It helps
+him lift the fish, puts his shoulders more into play, rests his arms.
+But I had never worn one. I was afraid of it.
+
+"Suppose he pulls me overboard, with that on!" I exclaimed. "He'll drown
+me!"
+
+"We'll hold on to you," replied Dan, cheerily, as he strapped it around
+me.
+
+Later it turned out that I had exactly the right view concerning this
+harness, for Dustin Farnum was nearly pulled overboard and--But I have
+not space for that story here. My brother Rome wants to write that
+story, anyhow, because it is so funny, he says.
+
+On the other hand, the fact soon manifested itself to me that I could
+lift a great deal more with said harness to help. The big fish began to
+come nearer and also he began to get mad. Here I forgot the pain in my
+hands. I grew enthusiastic. And foolishly I bragged. Then I lifted so
+hard that I cracked the great Conroy rod.
+
+Dan threw up his hands. He quit, same as he quit the first day out, when
+I hooked the broadbill and the reel froze.
+
+"Disqualified fish, even if you ketch him--which you won't," he said,
+dejectedly.
+
+"Crack goes thirty-five dollars!" exclaimed my brother. "Sure is funny,
+brother, how you can decimate good money into the general atmosphere!"
+
+If there really is anything fine in the fighting of a big fish, which
+theory I have begun to doubt, certainly Captain Dan and Brother R. C.
+did not know it.
+
+Remarks were forthcoming from me, I am ashamed to state, that should not
+have been. Then I got Dan to tie splints on the rod, after which I
+fought my quarry some more. The splints broke. Dan had to bind the
+cracked rod with heavy pieces of wood and they added considerable weight
+to what had before felt like a ton.
+
+The fish had been hooked at eleven o'clock and it was now five. We had
+drifted or been pulled into the main channel, where strong currents and
+a choppy sea made the matter a pretty serious and uncomfortable one.
+Here I expended all I had left in a short and furious struggle to bring
+the fish up, if not to gaff, at least so we could see what he looked
+like. How strange and unfathomable a feeling this mystery of him gave
+rise to! If I could only see him once, then he could get away and
+welcome. Captain Dan, in anticipation of a need of much elbow room in
+that cockpit, ordered my brother and the ladies to go into the cabin or
+up on top. And they all scrambled up and lay flat on the deck-roof, with
+their heads over, watching me. They had to hold on some, too. In fact,
+they were having the time of their lives.
+
+My supreme effort brought the fish within the hundredth foot length of
+line--then my hands and my back refused any more.
+
+"Dan, here's the great chance you've always hankered for!" I said. "Now
+let's see you pull him right in!"
+
+And I passed him the rod and got up. Dan took it with the pleased
+expression of a child suddenly and wonderfully come into possession of a
+long-unattainable toy. Captain Dan was going to pull that fish right up
+to the boat. He was! Now Dan is big--he weighs two hundred; he has arms
+and hands like the limbs of a Vulcan. Perhaps Dan had every reason to
+believe he would pull the fish right up to the boat. But somehow I knew
+that he would not.
+
+My fish, perhaps feeling a new and different and mightier hand at the
+rod, showed how he liked it by a magnificent rush--the greatest of the
+whole fight--and he took about five hundred feet of line.
+
+Dan's expression changed as if by magic.
+
+"Steer the boat! Port! Port!" he yelled.
+
+Probably I could not run a boat right with perfectly fresh and well
+hands, and with my lacerated and stinging ones I surely made a mess of
+it. This brought language from my boatman--well, to say the least, quite
+disrespectable. Fortunately, however, I got the boat around and we ran
+down on the fish. Dan, working with long, powerful sweeps of the rod,
+got the line back and the fish close. The game began to look great to
+me. All along I had guessed this fish to be a wonder; and now I knew it.
+
+Hauling him close that way angered him. He made another rush, long and
+savage. The line smoked off that reel. Dan's expression was one of
+utmost gratification to me. A boatman at last cornered--tied up to a
+whale of a fish!
+
+Somewhere out there a couple of hundred yards the big fish came up and
+roared on the surface. I saw only circling wake and waves like those
+behind a speedy motor-boat. But Dan let out a strange shout, and up
+above the girls screamed, and brother Rome yelled murder or something. I
+gathered that he had a camera.
+
+"Steady up there!" I called out. "If you fall overboard it's good
+night!... For we want this fish!"
+
+I had all I could do. Dan would order me to steer this way and that--to
+throw out the clutch--to throw it in. Still I was able to keep track of
+events. This fish made nineteen rushes in the succeeding half-hour.
+Never for an instant did Captain Dan let up. Assuredly during that time
+he spent more force on the fish than I had in six hours.
+
+The sea was bad, the boat was rolling, the cockpit was inches deep under
+water many a time. I was hard put to it to stay at my post; and what
+saved the watchers above could not be explained by me.
+
+"Mebbe I can hold him now--a little," called Dan once, as he got the
+hundred-foot mark over the reel. "Strap the harness on me!"
+
+I fastened the straps round Dan's broad shoulders. His shirt was as wet
+as if he had fallen overboard. Maybe some of that wet was spray. His
+face was purple, his big arms bulging, and he whistled as he breathed.
+
+"Good-by, Dan. This will be a fitting end for a boatman," I said,
+cheerfully, as I dove back to the wheel.
+
+At six o'clock our fish was going strong and Dan was tiring fast. He
+had, of course, worked too desperately hard.
+
+Meanwhile the sun sank and the sea went down. All the west was gold and
+red, with the towers of Church Rock spiring the horizon. A flock of
+gulls were circling low, perhaps over a school of tuna. The white
+cottages of Avalon looked mere specks on the dark island.
+
+Captain Dan had the swordfish within a hundred feet of the boat and was
+able to hold him. This seemed hopeful. It looked now just a matter of a
+little more time. But Dan needed a rest.
+
+I suggested that my brother come down and take a hand in the final
+round, which I frankly confessed was liable to be hell.
+
+ [Illustration: FOUR MARLIN SWORDFISH IN ONE DAY]
+
+ [Illustration: A BIG SAILFISH BREAKING WATER]
+
+"Not on your life!" was the prompt reply. "I want to begin on a _little_
+swordfish!... Why, that--that fish hasn't waked up yet!"
+
+And I was bound to confess there seemed to me to be a good deal of sense
+in what he said.
+
+"Dan, I'll take the rod--rest you a bit--so you can finish him," I
+offered.
+
+The half-hour Dan recorded as my further work on this fish will always
+be a dark and poignant blank in my fishing experience. When it was over
+twilight had come and the fish was rolling and circling perhaps fifty
+yards from the boat.
+
+Here Dan took the rod again, and with the harness on and fresh gloves
+went at the fish in grim determination.
+
+Suddenly the moon sailed out from behind a fog-bank and the sea was
+transformed. It was as beautiful as it was lucky for us.
+
+By Herculean effort Dan brought the swordfish close. If any angler
+doubts the strength of a twenty-four thread line his experience is still
+young. That line was a rope, yet it sang like a banjo string.
+
+Leaning over the side, with two pairs of gloves on, I caught the double
+line, and as I pulled and Dan reeled the fish came up nearer. But I
+could not see him. Then I reached the leader and held on as for dear
+life.
+
+"I've got the leader!" I yelled. "Hurry, Dan!"
+
+Dan dropped the rod and reached for his gaff. But he had neglected to
+unhook the rod from the harness, and as the fish lunged and tore the
+leader away from me there came near to being disaster. However, Dan got
+straightened out and anchored in the chair and began to haul away again.
+It appeared we had the fish almost done, but he was so big that a mere
+movement of his tail irresistibly drew out the line.
+
+Then the tip of the rod broke off short just even with the splints and
+it slid down the line out of sight. Dan lowered the rod so most of the
+strain would come on the reel, and now he held like grim death.
+
+"Dan, if we don't make any more mistakes we'll get that fish!" I
+declared.
+
+The sea was almost calm now, and moon-blanched so that we could plainly
+see the line. Despite Dan's efforts, the swordfish slowly ran off a
+hundred feet more of line. Dan groaned. But I yelled with sheer
+exultation. For, standing up on the gunwale, I saw the swordfish. He had
+come up. He was phosphorescent--a long gleam of silver--and he rolled in
+the unmistakable manner of a fish nearly beaten.
+
+Suddenly he headed for the boat. It was a strange motion. I was
+surprised--then frightened. Dan reeled in rapidly. The streak of white
+gleamed closer and closer. It was like white fire--a long, savage,
+pointed shape.
+
+"Look! Look!" I yelled to those above. "Don't miss it!... Oh, great!"
+
+"He's charging the boat!" hoarsely shouted Dan.
+
+"He's all in!" yelled my brother.
+
+I jumped into the cockpit and leaned over the gunwale beside the rod.
+Then I grasped the line, letting it slip through my hands. Dan wound in
+with fierce energy. I felt the end of the double line go by me, and at
+this I let out another shout to warn Dan. Then I had the end of the
+leader--a good strong grip--and, looking down, I saw the clear silver
+outline of the hugest fish I had ever seen short of shark or whale. He
+made a beautiful, wild, frightful sight. He rolled on his back.
+Roundbill or broadbill, he had an enormous length of sword.
+
+"Come, Dan--we've got him!" I panted.
+
+Dan could not, dare not get up then.
+
+The situation was perilous. I saw how Dan clutched the reel, with his
+big thumbs biting into the line. I did my best. My sight failed me for
+an instant. But the fish pulled the leader through my hands. My brother
+leaped down to help--alas, too late!
+
+"Let go, Dan! Give him line!"
+
+But Dan was past that. Afterward he said his grip was locked. He held,
+and not another foot did the swordfish get. Again I leaned over the
+gunwale. I saw him--a monster--pale, wavering. His tail had an
+enormous spread. I could no longer see his sword. Almost he was ready to
+give up.
+
+Then the double line snapped. I fell back in the boat and Dan fell back
+in the chair.
+
+Nine hours!
+
+
+
+
+V
+
+SAILFISH--THE ATLANTIC BROTHER TO THE PACIFIC SWORDFISH
+
+
+In the winter of 1916 I persuaded Captain Sam Johnson, otherwise famous
+as Horse-mackerel Sam, of Seabright, New Jersey, to go to Long Key with
+me and see if the two of us as a team could not outwit those illusive
+and strange sailfish of the Gulf Stream.
+
+Sam and I have had many adventures going down to sea. At Seabright we
+used to launch a Seabright skiff in the gray gloom of early morning and
+shoot the surf, and return shoreward in the afternoon to ride a great
+swell clear till it broke on the sand. When I think of Sam I think of
+tuna--those torpedoes of the ocean. I have caught many tuna with Sam,
+and hooked big ones, but these giants are still roving the blue deeps.
+Once I hooked a tuna off Sandy Hook, out in the channel, and as I was
+playing him the _Lusitania_ bore down the channel. Like a mountain she
+loomed over us. I felt like an atom looking up and up. Passengers waved
+down to us as the tuna bent my rod. The great ship passed on in a
+seething roar--passed on to her tragic fate. We rode the heavy swells
+she lifted--and my tuna got away.
+
+Sam Johnson is from Norway. His ancestors lived by fishing. Sam knows
+and loves the sea. He has been a sailor before the mast, but he is more
+fisherman than sailor. He is a stalwart man, with an iron, stern,
+weather-beaten face and keen blue eyes, and he has an arm like the
+branch of an oak. For many years he has been a market fisherman at
+Seabright, where on off days he pursued the horse-mackerel for the fun
+of it, and which earned him his name. Better than any man I ever met Sam
+knows the sea; he knows fish, he knows boats and engines. And I have
+reached a time in my experience of fishing where I want that kind of a
+boatman.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Sam and I went after sailfish at Long Key and we got them. But I do not
+consider the experience conclusive. If it had not been for my
+hard-earned knowledge of the Pacific swordfish, and for Sam's keenness
+on the sea, we would not have been so fortunate. We established the
+record, but, what is more important, we showed what magnificent sport is
+possible. This advent added much to the attractiveness of Long Key for
+me. And Long Key was attractive enough before.
+
+Sailfish had been caught occasionally at Long Key, during every season.
+But I am inclined to believe that, in most instances, the capture of
+sailfish had been accident--mere fisherman's luck. Anglers have fished
+along the reef and inside, trolling with heavy tackle for anything that
+might strike, and once in a while a sailfish has somehow hooked himself.
+Mr. Schutt tells of hooking one on a Wilson spoon, and I know of another
+angler who had this happen. I know of one gentleman who told me he
+hooked a fish that he supposed was a barracuda, and while he was
+fighting this supposed barracuda he was interested in the leaping of a
+sailfish near his boat. His boatman importuned him to hurry in the
+barracuda so there would be a chance to go after the leaping sailfish.
+But it turned out that the sailfish was on his hook. Another angler went
+out with heavy rod, the great B-Ocean reel, and two big hooks (which is
+an outfit suitable only for large tuna or swordfish), and this fellow
+hooked a sailfish which had no chance and was dead in less than ten
+minutes. A party of anglers were out on the reef, fishing for anything,
+and they decided to take a turn outside where I had been spending days
+after sailfish. Scarcely had these men left the reef when five sailfish
+loomed up and all of them, with that perversity and capriciousness which
+makes fish so incomprehensible, tried to climb on board the boat. One, a
+heavy fish, did succeed in hooking himself and getting aboard. I could
+multiply events of this nature, but this is enough to illustrate my
+point--that there is a vast difference between several fishermen out of
+thousands bringing in several sailfish in one season and one fisherman
+deliberately going after sailfish with light tackle and eventually
+getting them.
+
+It is not easy. On the contrary, it is extremely hard. It takes infinite
+patience, and very much has to be learned that can be learned only by
+experience. But it is magnificent sport and worth any effort. It makes
+tarpon-fishing tame by comparison. Tarpon-fishing is easy. Anybody can
+catch a tarpon by going after him. But not every fisherman can catch a
+sailfish. One fisherman out of a hundred will get his sailfish, but only
+one out of a thousand will experience the wonder and thrill and beauty
+of the sport.
+
+Sailfishing is really swordfishing, and herein lies the secret of my
+success at Long Key. I am not satisfied that the sailfish I caught were
+all Marlin and brothers to the Pacific Marlin. The Atlantic fish are
+very much smaller than those of the Pacific, and are differently marked
+and built. Yet they are near enough alike to be brothers.
+
+There are three species that I know of in southern waters. The
+_Histiophorus_, the sailfish about which I am writing and of which
+descriptions follow. There is another species, _Tetrapturus albidus_,
+that is not uncommon in the Gulf Stream. It is my impression that this
+species is larger. The Indians, with whom I fished in the Caribbean,
+tell of a great swordfish--in Spanish the _Aguja de casta_, and this
+species must be related to _Xiphias_, the magnificent flatbilled
+swordfish of the Atlantic and Pacific.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The morning of my greatest day with sailfish I was out in the Gulf
+Stream, seven miles offshore, before the other fishermen had gotten out
+of bed. We saw the sun rise ruddy and bright out of the eastern sea, and
+we saw sailfish leap as if to welcome the rising of the lord of day. A
+dark, glancing ripple wavered over the water; there was just enough
+swell to make seeing fish easy.
+
+I was using a rod that weighed nine ounces over all, and twelve hundred
+feet of fifteen-thread line. I was not satisfied then that the regular
+light outfit of the Tuna Club, such as I used at Avalon, would do for
+sailfish. No. 9 breaks of its own weight. And I have had a sailfish run
+off three hundred yards of line and jump all the time he was doing it.
+Besides, nobody knows how large these sailfish grow. I had hold of one
+that would certainly have broken my line if he had not thrown the hook.
+
+On this memorable day I had scarcely trolled half a mile out into the
+Stream before I felt that inexplicable rap at my bait which swordfish
+and sailfish make with their bills. I jumped up and got ready. I saw a
+long bronze shape back of my bait. Then I saw and felt him take hold. He
+certainly did not encounter the slightest resistance in running out my
+line. He swam off slowly. I never had Sam throw out the clutch and stop
+the boat until after I had hooked the fish. I wanted the boat to keep
+moving, so if I did get a chance to strike at a fish it would be with a
+tight line. These sailfish are wary and this procedure is difficult. If
+the fish had run off swiftly I would have struck sooner. Everything
+depends on how he takes the bait. This fellow took fifty feet of line
+before I hooked him.
+
+He came up at once, and with two-thirds of his body out of the water he
+began to skitter toward us. He looked silver and bronze in the morning
+light. There was excitement on board. Sam threw out the clutch. My
+companions dove for the cameras, and we all yelled. The sailfish came
+skittering toward us. It was a spectacular and thrilling sight. He was
+not powerful enough to rise clear on his tail and do the famous trick of
+the Pacific swordfish--"walking on the water." But he gave a mighty
+good imitation. Then before the cameras got in a snap he went down. And
+he ran, to come up far astern and begin to leap. I threw off the drag
+and yelled, "Go!"
+
+ [Illustration: FOUR SAILFISH IN ONE DAY ON LIGHT TACKLE]
+
+ [Illustration: Photo by Wunstorf
+ SAILFISH THRESHING ON THE SURFACE]
+
+This was pleasant for Sam, who kept repeating, "Look at him yump!"
+
+The sailfish evidently wanted to pose for pictures, for he gave a
+wonderful exhibition of high and lofty tumbling, with the result, of
+course, that he quickly exhausted himself. Then came a short period
+during which he sounded and I slowly worked him closer. Presently he
+swam toward the boat--the old swordfish trick. I never liked it, but
+with the sailfish I at least was not nervous about him attacking the
+boat. Let me add here that this freedom from dread--which is never
+absent during the fighting of a big swordfish--is one of the features so
+attractive in sailfishing. Besides, fish that have been hooked for any
+length of time, if they are going to shake or break loose, always do so
+near the boat. We moved away from this fellow, and presently he came up
+again, and leaped three more times clear, making nineteen leaps in all.
+That about finished his performance, so regretfully I led him alongside;
+and Sam, who had profited by our other days of landing sailfish, took
+him cautiously by the sword, and then by the gills, and slid him into
+the boat.
+
+Sailfish are never alike, except in general outline. This one was silver
+and bronze, with green bars, rather faint, and a dark-blue sail without
+any spots. He measured seven feet one inch. But we measured his quality
+by his leaps and nineteen gave him the record for us so far.
+
+We stowed him up in the bow and got under way again, and scarcely had I
+let my bait far enough astern when a sailfish hit it. In fact, he rushed
+it. Quick as I was, which was as quick as a flash, I was not quick
+enough for that fish. He felt the hook and he went away. But he had been
+there long enough to get my bait.
+
+Just then Sam pointed. I saw a sailfish break water a hundred yards
+away.
+
+"Look at him yump!" repeated Sam, every time the fish came out, which,
+to be exact, was five times.
+
+"We'll go over and pick him up," I said.
+
+Sam and I always argue a little about the exact spot where a fish has
+broken water. I never missed it far, but Sam seldom missed it at all. He
+could tell by a slight foam always left by the break. We had two baits
+out, as one or another of my companions always holds a rod. The more
+baits out the better! We had two vicious, smashing strikes at the same
+time. The fish on the other rod let go just as I hooked mine.
+
+He came up beautifully, throwing the spray, glinting in the sun, an
+angry fish with sail spread and his fins going. Then on the boat was the
+same old thrilling bustle and excitement and hilarity I knew so well and
+which always pleased me so much. This sailfish was a jumper.
+
+"Look at him yump!" exclaimed Sam, with as much glee as if he had not
+seen it before.
+
+The cameras got busy. Then I was attracted by something flashing in the
+water nearer the boat than my fish. Suddenly a sailfish leaped,
+straightaway, over my line. Then two leaped at once, both directly over
+my line.
+
+"Sam, they'll cut my line!" I cried. "What do you think of that?"
+
+Suddenly I saw sharp, dark, curved tails cutting the water. All was
+excitement on board that boat then.
+
+"A school of sailfish! Look! Look!" I yelled.
+
+I counted ten tails, but there were more than that, and if I had been
+quicker I could have counted more. Presently they went down. And I,
+returning to earth and the business of fishing, discovered that during
+the excitement my sailfish had taken advantage of a perfectly loose line
+to free himself. Nine leaps we recorded him!
+
+Assuredly we all felt that there would be no difficulty in soon hooking
+up with another sailfish. And precisely three minutes later I was
+standing up, leaning forward, all aquiver, watching my line fly off the
+reel. I hooked that fellow hard. He was heavy, and he did not come up or
+take off any length of line. Settling down slowly, he descended three or
+four hundred feet, or so it seemed, and began to plug, very much like an
+albacore, only much heavier. He fooled around down there for ten
+minutes, with me jerking at him all the time to irritate him, before he
+showed any sign of rising. At last I worried him into a fighting mood,
+and up he came, so fast that I did not even try to take up the slack,
+and he shot straight up. This jump, like that of a kingfish, was
+wonderful. But it was so quick that the cameras could not cover it, and
+we missed a great picture. He went down, only to leap again. I reeled
+in the slack line and began to jerk at him to torment him, and I got him
+to jumping and threshing right near the boat. The sun was in the faces
+of the cameras and that was bad. And as it turned out not one of these
+exposures was good. What a chance missed! But we did not know that then,
+and we kept on tormenting him and snapping pictures of his leaps. In
+this way, which was not careless, but deliberate, I played with him
+until he shook out the hook. Fifteen leaps was his record.
+
+Then it was interesting to see how soon I could raise another fish. I
+was on the _qui vive_ for a while, then settled back to the old
+expectant watchfulness. And presently I was rewarded by that vibrating
+rap at my bait. I stood up so the better to see. The swells were just
+right and the sun was over my shoulder. I spied the long, dark shape
+back of my bait, saw it slide up and strike, felt the sharp rap--and
+again. Then came the gentle tug. I let out line, but he let go. Still I
+could see him plainly when the swell was right. I began to jerk my bait,
+to give it a jumping motion, as I had so often done with flying-fish
+bait when after swordfish. He sheered off, then turned with a rush,
+broadside on, with his sail up. I saw him clearly, his whole length, and
+he appeared blue and green and silver. He took the bait and turned away
+from me, and when I struck the hook into his jaw I felt that it would
+stay. He was not a jumper--only breaking clear twice. I could not make
+him leap. He fought hard enough, however, and with that tackle took
+thirty minutes to land.
+
+It was eight o'clock. I had two sailfish in the boat and had fought two
+besides. And at that time I sighted the first fishing-boat coming out
+toward the reef. Before that boat got out near us I had struck and lost
+three more sailfish, with eleven leaps in all to my credit. This boatman
+had followed Sam and me the day before and he appeared to be bent upon
+repeating himself. I thought I would rather enjoy that, because he had
+two inexperienced anglers aboard, and they, in the midst of a school of
+striking sailfish, would be sure to afford some fun. Three other boats
+came out across the reef, ventured a little way in the Gulf Stream, and
+then went back to grouper and barracuda. But that one boatman, B., stuck
+to us. And right away things began to happen to his anglers. No one so
+lucky in strikes as a green hand! I saw them get nine strikes without
+hooking a fish. And there appeared to be a turmoil on board that boat. I
+saw B. tearing his hair and the fishermen frantically jerking, and then
+waving rods and arms. Much as I enjoyed it, Sam enjoyed it more. But I
+was not mean enough to begrudge them a fish and believed that sooner or
+later they would catch one.
+
+Presently, when B.'s boat was just right for his anglers to see
+everything my way, I felt a tug on my line. I leaped up, let the reel
+run. Then I threw on my drag and leaned over to strike. But he let go.
+Quickly I threw off the drag. The sailfish came back. Another tug! I let
+him run. Then threw on the drag and got ready. But, no, he let go. Again
+I threw off the drag and again he came back. He was hungry, but he was
+cunning, too, and too far back for me to see. I let him run fifty feet,
+threw on the drag, and struck hard. No go! I missed him. But again I
+threw off the drag, let out more line back to him, and he took the bait
+the fourth time, and harder than ever. I let him run perhaps a hundred
+feet. All the time, of course, my boat was running. I had out a long
+line--two hundred yards. Then I threw on the drag and almost cracked the
+rod. This time I actually felt the hook go in.
+
+How heavy and fast he was! The line slipped off and I was afraid of the
+drag. I threw it off--no easy matter with that weight on it--and then
+the line whistled. The sailfish was running straight toward B.'s boat
+and, I calculated, should be close to it.
+
+"Sam," I yelled, "watch him! If he jumps he'll jump into that boat!"
+
+Then he came out, the biggest sailfish I ever saw, and he leaped
+magnificently, not twenty yards back of that boat. He must have been
+beyond the lines of the trolling anglers. I expected him to cross them
+or cut himself loose. We yelled to B. to steer off, and while we yelled
+the big sailfish leaped and leaped, apparently keeping just as close to
+the boat. He certainly was right upon it and he was a savage leaper. He
+would shoot up, wag his head, his sail spread like the ears of a mad
+elephant, and he would turn clear over to alight with a smack and splash
+that we plainly heard. And he had out nine hundred feet of line. Because
+of his size I wanted him badly, but, badly as that was, I fought him
+without a drag, let him run and leap, and I hoped he would jump right
+into that boat. Afterward these anglers told me they expected him to do
+just that and were scared to death. Also they said a close sight of him
+leaping was beautiful and thrilling in the extreme.
+
+I did not keep track of all this sailfish's leaps, but Sam recorded
+twenty-three, and that is enough for any fisherman. I venture to state
+that it will not be beaten very soon. When he stopped leaping we drew
+him away from the other boat, and settled down to a hard fight with a
+heavy, stubborn, game fish. In perhaps half an hour I had him twenty
+yards away, and there he stayed while I stood up on the stern to watch
+him and keep clear of the propeller. He weaved from side to side,
+exactly like a tired swordfish, and every now and then he would stick
+out his bill and swish! he would cut at the leader. This fish was not
+only much larger than any I had seen, but also more brilliantly colored.
+There were suggestions of purple that reminded me of the swordfish--that
+royal purple game of the Pacific. Another striking feature was that in
+certain lights he was a vivid green, and again, when deeper, he assumed
+a strange, triangular shape, much like that of a kite. That, of course,
+was when he extended the wide, waving sail. I was not able to see that
+this sail afforded him any particular aid. It took me an hour to tire
+out this sailfish, and when we got him in the boat he measured seven
+feet and six inches, which was four inches longer than any record I
+could find then.
+
+At eleven o'clock I had another in the boat, making four sailfish in
+all. We got fourteen jumps out of this last one. That was the end of my
+remarkable luck, though it was luck to me to hook other sailfish during
+the afternoon, and running up the number of leaps. I am proud of that,
+anyway, and to those who criticized my catch as unsportsman-like I could
+only say that it was a chance of a lifetime and I was after photographs
+of leaping sailfish. Besides, I had a great opportunity to beat my
+record of four swordfish in one day at Clemente Island in the Pacific.
+But I was not equal to it.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I do not know how to catch sailfish yet, though I have caught a good
+many. The sport is young and it is as difficult as it is trying. This
+catch of mine made fishermen flock to the Stream all the rest of the
+season, and more fish were caught than formerly. But the proportion held
+about the same, although I consider that fishing for a sailfish and
+catching one is a great gain in point. Still, we do not know much about
+sailfish or how to take them. If I got twenty strikes and caught only
+four fish, very likely the smallest that bit, I most assuredly was not
+doing skilful fishing as compared with other kinds of fishing. And there
+is the rub. Sailfish are not any other kind of fish. They have a wary
+and cunning habit, with an exceptional occasion of blind hunger, and
+they have small, bony jaws into which it is hard to sink a hook. Not one
+of my sailfish was hooked deep down. Yet I let nearly all of them run
+out a long line. Moreover, as I said before, if a sailfish is hooked
+there are ten chances to one that he will free himself.
+
+ [Illustration: MEMORABLE OF LONG KEY]
+
+ [Illustration: LEAPING SAILFISH]
+
+This one thing, then, I believe I have proved to myself--that the
+sailfish is the gamest, the most beautiful and spectacular, and the
+hardest fish to catch on light tackle, just as his brother, the Pacific
+swordfish, is the grandest fish to take on the heaviest of tackle.
+
+Long Key, indeed, has its charm. Most all the anglers who visit there go
+back again. Only the queer ones--and there are many--who want three
+kinds of boats, and nine kinds of bait, and a deep-sea diver for a
+boatman, and tackle that cannot be broken, and smooth, calm seas always,
+and five hundred pounds of fish a day--only that kind complain of Long
+Key and kick--and yet go back again!
+
+Sailfish will draw more and finer anglers down to the white strip of
+color that shines white all day under a white sun and the same all night
+under white stars. But it is not alone the fish that draws real
+sportsmen to a place and makes them love it and profit by their return.
+It is the spirit of the place--the mystery, like that of the little
+hermit-crab, which crawls over the coral sand in his stolen shell, and
+keeps to his lonely course, and loves his life so well--sunshine, which
+is best of all for men; and the wind in the waving palms; and the
+lonely, wandering coast with the eternal moan out on the reefs, the
+sweet, fresh tang, the clear, antiseptic breath of salt, and always by
+the glowing, hot, colorful day or by the soft dark night with its
+shadows and whisperings on the beach, that significant presence--the
+sense of something vaster than the heaving sea.
+
+
+               _Light Tackle in the Gulf Stream_
+
+In view of the present controversy between light tackle and heavy tackle
+champions, I think it advisable for me to state more definitely my stand
+on the matter of light tackle before going on with a story about it.
+
+There is a sharp line to be drawn between light tackle that is right and
+light tackle that is wrong. So few anglers ever seem to think of the
+case of the poor fish! In Borneo there is a species of lightning-bug
+that tourists carry around at night on spits, delighted with the
+novelty. But is that not rather hard on the lightning-bugs? As a matter
+of fact, if we are to develop as anglers who believe in conservation and
+sportsmanship, we must consider the fish--his right to life, and,
+especially if he must be killed, to do it without brutality.
+
+Brutal it is to haul in a fish on tackle so heavy that he has no chance
+for his life; likewise it is brutal to hook a fish on tackle so light
+that, if he does not break it, he must be followed around and all over,
+chased by a motor-boat hour after hour, until he practically dies of
+exhaustion.
+
+I have had many tarpon and many tuna taken off my hooks by sharks
+because I was using tackle too light. It never appeared an impossible
+feat to catch Marlin swordfish on a nine-thread line, nor sailfish on a
+six-thread line. But those lines are too light.
+
+My business is to tell stories. If I can be so fortunate as to make them
+thrilling and pleasing, for the edification of thousands who have other
+business and therefore less leisure, then that is a splendid thing for
+me. It is a responsibility that I appreciate. But on the other hand I
+must tell the truth, I must show my own development, I must be of
+service to the many who have so much more time to read than fish. It is
+not enough to give pleasure merely; a writer should instruct. And if
+what I say above offends any fisherman, I am sorry, and I suggest that
+he read it twice.
+
+What weight tackle to use is not such a hard problem to decide. All it
+takes is some experience. To quote Mr. Bates, "The principle is that the
+angler should subdue the fish by his skill with rod and line, and put
+his strength into the battle to _end_ it, and not employ a worrying
+process to a frightened fish that does not know what it is fighting."
+
+
+
+
+VI
+
+GULF STREAM FISHING
+
+
+Some years have passed since I advocated light tackle fishing at Long
+Key. In the early days of this famous resort most fishermen used hand
+lines or very heavy outfits. The difficulties of introducing a
+sportsman-like ideal have been manifold. A good rule of angling
+philosophy is not to interfere with any fisherman's peculiar ways of
+being happy, unless you want to be hated. It is not easy to influence a
+majority of men in the interests of conservation. Half of them do not
+know the conditions and are only out for a few days' or weeks' fun; the
+rest do not care. But the facts are that all food fish and game fish
+must be conserved. The waste has been enormous. If fishermen will only
+study the use of light tackle they will soon appreciate a finer sport,
+more fun and gratification, and a saving of fish.
+
+Such expert and fine anglers as Crowninshield, Heilner, Cassiard,
+Lester, Conill, and others are all enthusiastic about light tackle and
+they preach the gospel of conservation.
+
+But the boatmen of Long Key, with the exception of Jordon, are all
+against light tackle. I must say that James Jordon is to be
+congratulated and recommended. The trouble at Long Key is that new
+boatmen are hired each season, and, as they do not own their boats, all
+their interest centers in as big a catch as possible for each angler
+they take out, in the hope and expectation, of course, of a generous
+tip. Heavy tackle means a big catch and light tackle the reverse. And so
+tons of good food and game fish are brought in only to be thrown to the
+sharks. I mention this here to give it a wide publicity. It is criminal
+in these days and ought to be stopped.
+
+The season of 1918 was a disappointment in regard to any great
+enthusiasm over the use of light tackle. We have tried to introduce
+principles of the Tuna Club of Avalon. President Coxe of the Pacific
+organization is doing much to revive the earlier ideals of Doctor
+Holder, founder of the famous club. This year at Long Key a number of
+prizes were offered by individual members. The contention was that the
+light tackle specified was too light. This is absolutely a mistake. I
+have proved that the regulation Tuna Club nine-thread line and six-ounce
+tip are strong enough, if great care and skill be employed, to take the
+tricky, hard-jawed, wild-leaping sailfish.
+
+And for bonefish, that rare fighter known to so few anglers, the
+three-six tackle--a three-ounce tip and six-thread line--is just the
+ideal rig to make the sport exceedingly difficult, fascinating, and
+thrilling. Old bonefishermen almost invariably use heavy tackle--stiff
+rods and twelve-or fifteen-thread lines. They have their arguments, and
+indeed these are hard nuts to crack. They claim three-six for the swift
+and powerful bonefish is simply absurd. No! I can prove otherwise. But
+that must be another story.
+
+Some one must pioneer these sorely needed reforms. It may be a thankless
+task, but it is one that some of us are standing by. We need the help of
+brother anglers.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+One morning in February there was a light breeze from the north and the
+day promised to be ideal. We ran out to the buoy and found the Gulf
+Stream a very dark blue, with a low ripple and a few white-caps here and
+there.
+
+Above the spindle we began to see sailfish jumping everywhere. One
+leaped thirteen times, and another nineteen. Many of them came out
+sidewise, with a long, sliding plunge, which action at first I took to
+be that made by a feeding fish. After a while, however, and upon closer
+view, I changed my mind about this.
+
+My method, upon seeing a fish jump, was to speed up the boat until we
+were in the vicinity where the fish had come up. Then we would slow down
+and begin trolling, with two baits out, one some forty or fifty feet
+back and the other considerably farther.
+
+We covered several places where we had seen the sheetlike splashes; and
+at the third or fourth I felt the old electrifying tap at my bait. I
+leaped up and let my bait run back. The sailfish tapped again, then took
+hold so hard and ran off so swiftly that I jerked sooner than usual. I
+pulled the bait away from him. All this time the boat was running.
+Instead of winding in I let the bait run back. Suddenly the sailfish
+took it fiercely. I let him run a long way before I struck at him, and
+then I called to the boatman to throw out the clutch. When the boat is
+moving there is a better chance of a tight line while striking, and that
+is imperative if an angler expects to hook the majority of these
+illusive sailfish. I hooked this fellow, and he showed at once, a small
+fish, and began to leap toward the boat, making a big bag in the line. I
+completely lost the feel of his weight. When he went down, and with all
+that slack line, I thought he was gone. But presently the line tightened
+and he began to jump in another direction. He came out twice with his
+sail spread, a splendid, vivid picture; then he took to skittering,
+occasionally throwing himself clear, and he made some surface runs,
+splashing and threshing, and then made some clean greyhound-like leaps.
+In all he cleared the water eleven times before he settled down. After
+that it took me half an hour to land him. He was not hurt and we let him
+go.
+
+Soon after we got going again we raised a school of four or more
+sailfish. And when a number rush for the baits it is always exciting.
+The first fish hit my bait and the second took R. C.'s. I saw both fish
+in action, and there is considerable difference between the hitting and
+the taking of a bait. R. C. jerked his bait away from his fish and I
+yelled for him to let it run back. He did so. A bronze and silver blaze
+and a boil on the water told me how hungry R. C.'s sailfish was. "Let
+him run with it!" I yelled. Then I attended to my own troubles. There
+was a fish rapping at my bait. I let out line, yard after yard, but he
+would not take hold, and, as R. C.'s line was sweeping over mine, I
+thought best to reel in.
+
+"Hook him now!" I yelled.
+
+I surely did shiver at the way my brother came up with that light
+tackle. But he hooked the sailfish, and nothing broke. Then came a big
+white splash on the surface, but no sign of the fish. R. C.'s line
+sagged down.
+
+"Look out! Wind in! He's coming at us!" I called.
+
+"He's off!" replied my brother.
+
+That might well have been, but, as I expected, he was not. He broke
+water on a slack line and showed us all his dripping, colorful body
+nearer than a hundred feet. R. C. thereupon performed with incredible
+speed at the reel and quickly had a tight line. Mr. Sailfish did not
+like that. He slid out, wrathfully wagging his bill, and left a seamy,
+foamy track behind him, finally to end that play with a splendid long
+leap. He was headed away from us now, with two hundred yards of line
+out, going hard and fast, and we had to follow him. We had a fine
+straightaway run to recover the line. This was a thrilling chase, and
+one, I think, we never would have had if R. C. had been using heavy
+tackle. The sailfish led us out half a mile before he sounded.
+
+Then in fifteen minutes more R. C. had him up where we could see his
+purple and bronze colors and the strange, triangular form of him, which
+peculiar shape came mostly from the waving sail. I thought I saw other
+shapes and colors with him, and bent over the gunwale to see better.
+
+"He's got company. Two sharks!--You want to do some quick work now or
+good-by sailfish!"
+
+ [Illustration: Nassau Photo
+ SOLITUDE ON THE SEA]
+
+ [Illustration: Nassau Photo
+ SUNSET BY THE SEA]
+
+A small gray shark and a huge yellow shark were coming up with our
+quarry. R. C. said things, and pulled hard on the light tackle. I got
+hold of the leader and drew the sailfish close to the boat. He began to
+thresh, and the big shark came with a rush. Instinctively I let go of
+the leader, which action was a blunder. The sailfish saw the shark and,
+waking up, he fought a good deal harder than before the sharks appeared
+upon the scene. He took off line, and got so far away that I gave up any
+hope that the sharks might not get him. There was a heavy commotion out
+in the water. The shark had made a rush. So had the sailfish, and he
+came right back to the boat. R. C. reeled in swiftly.
+
+"Hold him hard now!" I admonished, and I leaped up on the stern. The
+sailfish sheered round on the surface, with tail and bill out, while the
+shark swam about five feet under him. He was a shovel-nosed, big-finned
+yellow shark, weighing about five hundred pounds. He saw me. I waved my
+hat at him, but he did not mind that. He swam up toward the surface and
+his prey. R. C. was now handling the light tackle pretty roughly. It is
+really remarkable what can be done with nine-thread. In another moment
+we would have lost the sailfish. The boatman brought my rifle and a shot
+scared the shark away. Then we got the sailfish into the boat. He was a
+beautiful specimen for mounting, weighing forty-five pounds, the first
+my brother had taken.
+
+After that we had several strikes, but not one of them was what I could
+call a hungry, smashing strike. These sailfish are finicky biters. I had
+one rap at my bait with his bill until he knocked the bait off.
+
+I think the feature of the day was the sight of two flying-fish that
+just missed boarding the boat. They came out to the left of us and
+sailed ahead together. Then they must have been turned by the wind, for
+they made a beautiful, graceful curve until they came around so that I
+was sure they would fly into the boat. Their motion was indescribably
+airy and feathery, buoyant and swift, with not the slightest quiver of
+fins or wings as they passed within five feet of me. I could see through
+the crystal wings. Their bodies were white and silvery, and they had
+staring black eyes. They were not so large as the California
+flying-fish, nor did they have any blue color. They resembled the
+California species, however, in that same strange, hunted look which
+always struck me. To see these flying-fish this way was provocative of
+thought. They had been pursued by some hungry devil of a fish, and with
+a birdlike swiftness with which nature had marvelously endowed them they
+had escaped the enemy. Here I had at once the wonder and beauty and
+terror of the sea. These fish were not leaping with joy. I have not
+often seen fish in the salt water perform antics for anything except
+flight or pursuit. Sometimes kingfish appear to be playing when they
+leap so wonderfully at sunset hour, but as a rule salt-water fish do not
+seem to be playful.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At Long Key the Gulf Stream is offshore five miles. The water shoals
+gradually anywhere from two feet near the beach to twenty feet five
+miles out on the reef. When there has been no wind for several days,
+which is a rare thing for Long Key, the water becomes crystal clear and
+the fish and marine creatures are an endless source of interest to the
+fisherman. Of course a large boat, in going out on the reef, must use
+the channel between the keys, but a small boat or canoe can go anywhere.
+It is remarkable how the great game fish come in from the Stream across
+the reef into shoal water. Barracuda come right up to the shore, and
+likewise the big sharks. The bottom is a clean, white, finely ribbed
+coral sand, with patches of brown seaweed here and there and golden
+spots, and in the shallower water different kinds of sponges. Out on the
+reef the water is a light green. The Gulf Stream runs along the outer
+edge of the reef, and here between Tennessee Buoy and Alligator Light,
+eighteen miles, is a feeding-ground for sailfish, kingfish, amberjack,
+barracuda, and other fishes. The ballyhoo is the main feed of these
+fishes, and it is indeed a queer little fish. He was made by nature,
+like the sardine and mullet and flying-fish, to serve as food for the
+larger fishes. The ballyhoo is about a foot long, slim and flat, shiny
+and white on the sides and dark green on the back, with a sharp-pointed,
+bright-yellow tail, the lower lobe of which is developed to twice the
+length of the upper. He has a very strange feature in the fact that his
+lower jaw resembles the bill of a snipe, being several inches long,
+sharp and pointed and hard; but he has no upper lip or beak at all. This
+half-bill must be used in relation to his food, but I do not have any
+idea how this is done.
+
+One day I found the Gulf Stream a mile off Tennessee Buoy, whereas on
+other days it would be close in. On this particular day the water was a
+dark, clear, indigo blue and appreciably warmer than the surrounding
+sea. This Stream has a current of several miles an hour, flowing up the
+coast. Everywhere we saw the Portuguese men-of-war shining on the waves.
+There was a slight, cool breeze blowing, rippling the water just enough
+to make fishing favorable. I saw a big loggerhead turtle, weighing about
+three hundred pounds, coming around on the surface among these
+Portuguese men-of-war, and as we ran up I saw that he was feeding on
+these queer balloon-like little creatures. Sometimes he would come up
+under one and it would stick on his back, and he would turn laboriously
+around from under it, and submerge his back so he had it floating again.
+Then he would open his cavernous mouth and take it in. Considering the
+stinging poison these Portuguese men-of-war secrete about them, the
+turtle must have had a very tabasco-sauce meal. Right away I began to
+see evidence of fish on the surface, which is always a good sign. We
+went past a school of bonita breaking the water up into little swirls.
+Then I saw a smashing break of a sailfish coming out sideways, sending
+the water in white sheets. We slowed down the boat and got our baits
+overboard at once. I was using a ballyhoo bait hooked by a small hook
+through the lips, with a second and larger hook buried in the body. R.
+C. was using a strip of mullet, which for obvious reasons seems to be
+the preferred bait from Palm Beach to Long Key. And the obvious reason
+is that nobody seems to take the trouble to get what might be proper
+bait for sailfish. Mullet is an easy bait to get and commands just as
+high a price as anything else, which, as a matter of fact, is highway
+robbery. With a bait like a ballyhoo or a shiner I could get ten bites
+to one with mullet.
+
+We trolled along at slow speed. The air was cool, the sun pleasant, the
+sea beautiful, and this was the time to sit back and enjoy a sense of
+freedom and great space of the ocean, and watch for leaping fish or
+whatever might attract the eye.
+
+Here and there we passed a strange jellyfish, the like of which I had
+never before seen. It was about as large as a good-sized cantaloup, and
+pale, clear yellow all over one end and down through the middle, and
+then commenced a dark red fringe which had a waving motion. Inside this
+fringe was a scalloped circular appendage that had a sucking motion,
+which must have propelled it through the water, and it made quite fair
+progress. Around every one of these strange jellyfish was a little
+school of tiny minnows, as clear-colored as crystals. These all swam on
+in the same direction as the drift of the Gulf Stream.
+
+When we are fishing for sailfish everything that strikes we take to be a
+sailfish until we find out it is something else. They are inconsistent
+and queer fish. Sometimes they will rush a bait, at other times they
+will tug at it and then chew at it, and then they will tap it with their
+bills. I think I have demonstrated that they are about the hardest fish
+to hook that swims, and also on light tackle they are one of the gamest
+and most thrilling. However, not one in a hundred fishermen who come to
+Long Key will go after them with light tackle. And likewise not one out
+of twenty-five sailfish brought in there is caught by a fisherman who
+deliberately went out after sailfish. Mostly they are caught by accident
+while drags are set for kingfish or barracuda. At Palm Beach I believe
+they fish for them quite persistently, with a great deal of success. But
+it is more a method of still fishing which has no charms for me.
+
+Presently my boatman yelled, "Sailfish!" We looked off to port and saw a
+big sailfish break water nine times. He was perhaps five hundred yards
+distant. My boatman put on speed, and, as my boat is fast, it did not
+take us long to get somewhere near where this big fish broke. We did our
+best to get to the exact spot where he came up, then slowed down and
+trolled over the place. In this instance I felt a light tap on my bait
+and I jumped up quickly, both to look and let him take line. But I did
+not see him or feel him any more. We went on. I saw a flash of bright
+silver back of my brother's bait. At the instant he hooked a kingfish.
+And then I felt one cut my bait off. Kingfish are savage strikers and
+they almost invariably hook themselves when the drag is set. But as I
+fish for sailfish with a free-running reel, of course I am exasperated
+when a kingfish takes hold. My brother pulled in this kingfish, which
+was small, and we rebaited our hooks and went on again. I saw more
+turtles, and one we almost ran over, he was so lazy in getting down.
+These big, cumbersome sea animals, once they get headed down and
+started, can disappear with remarkable rapidity. I rather enjoy
+watching them, but my boatman, who is a native of these parts and
+therefore a turtle-hunter by instinct, always wore a rather disappointed
+look when we saw one. This was because I would not allow him to harpoon
+it.
+
+ [Illustration: TWIN TIGERS OF THE SEA--THE SAVAGE BARRACUDA]
+
+ [Illustration: HAPPY PASTIME OF BONEFISHING]
+
+The absence of gulls along this stretch of reef is a feature that struck
+me. So that once in a while when I did see a lonely white gull I watched
+him with pleasure. And once I saw a cero mackerel jump way in along the
+reef, and even at a mile's distance I could see the wonderful curve he
+made.
+
+The wind freshened, and all at once it seemed leaping sailfish were all
+around us. Then as we turned the boat this way and that we had thrills
+of anticipation. Suddenly R. C. had a strike. The fish took the bait
+hungrily and sheered off like an arrow and took line rapidly. When R. C.
+hooked him he came up with a big splash and shook himself to free the
+hook. He jumped here and there and then went down deep. And then he took
+a good deal of line off the reel. I was surprised to see a sailfish
+stick his bill out of the water very much closer to the boat than where
+R. C.'s fish should have been. I had no idea then that this was a fish
+other than the one R. C. had hooked. But when he cut the line either
+with his bill or his tail, and R. C. wound it in, we very soon
+discovered that it was not the fish that he had hooked. This is one of
+the handicaps of light tackle.
+
+We went on fishing. Sailfish would jump around us for a while and then
+they would stop. We would not see one for several minutes. It is always
+very exciting to be among them this way. Presently I had one take hold
+to run off slowly and steadily, and I let him go for fifty feet, and
+when I struck I tore the hook away from him. Quickly I let slack line
+run back to him ten or fifteen feet at a time, until I felt him take it
+once more. He took it rather suspiciously, I felt, and I honestly
+believe that I could tell that he was mouthing or chewing the bait,
+which made me careful to let the line run off easily to him. Suddenly he
+rushed off, making the reel smoke. I let him run one hundred and fifty
+feet and then stood up, throwing on the drag, and when the line
+straightened tight I tried to jerk at him as hard as the tackle would
+stand. As a matter of fact, however, he was going so fast and hard that
+he hooked himself. It is indeed seldom that I miss one when he runs like
+this. This fellow came up two hundred yards from the boat and slid along
+the water with half of his body raised, much like one of those
+coasting-boards I have seen bathers use, towed behind a motor-launch. He
+went down and came up in a magnificent sheer leap, with his broad sail
+shining in the sun. Very angry he was, and he reminded me of a Marlin
+swordfish. Next he went down, and came up again bent in a curve, with
+the big sail stretched again. He skittered over the water, going down
+and coming up, until he had leaped seven times. This was a big, heavy
+fish, and on the light six-ounce tip and nine-thread line I had my work
+cut out for me. We had to run the boat toward him so I could get back my
+line. Here was the advantage of having a fast boat with a big rudder.
+Otherwise I would have lost my fish. After some steady deep plugging he
+came up again and set my heart aflutter by a long surface play in which
+he took off one hundred yards of line and then turned, leaping straight
+for the boat. Fortunately the line was slack and I could throw off the
+drag and let him run. Slack line never bothers me when I really get one
+of these fish well hooked. If he is not well hooked he is going to get
+away, anyhow. After that he went down into deep water and I had one long
+hour of hard work in bringing him to the boat. Six hours later he
+weighed fifty-eight and a half pounds, and as he had lost a good deal of
+blood and dried out considerably, he would have gone over sixty pounds,
+which, so far, is the largest sailfish I know of caught on light tackle.
+
+The sailfish were still leaping around us and we started off again. The
+captain called our attention to a tail and a sail a few yards apart not
+far from the boat. We circled around them to drive them down. I saw a
+big wave back of R. C.'s bait and I yelled, "Look out!" I felt something
+hit my bait and then hit it again. I knew it was a sailfish rapping at
+it. I let the line slip off the reel. Just then R. C. had a vicious
+strike and when he hooked the fish the line snapped. He claimed that he
+had jerked too hard. This is the difficulty with light tackle--to strike
+hard, yet not break anything. I was standing up and leaning forward,
+letting my line slip off the reel, trying to coax that sailfish to come
+back. Something took hold and almost jerked the rod out of my hands.
+That was a magnificent strike, and of course I thought it was one of the
+sailfish. But when I hooked him I had my doubts. The weight was heavy
+and ponderous and tugging. He went down and down and down. The boatman
+said amberjack. I was afraid so, but I still had my hopes. For a while I
+could not budge him, and at last, when I had given up hope that it was a
+sailfish, I worked a good deal harder than I would have otherwise. It
+took me twenty-five minutes to subdue a forty-pound amberjack. Here was
+proof of what could be done with light tackle.
+
+About ten-thirty of this most delightful and favorable day we ran into a
+school of barracuda. R. C. hooked a small one, which was instantly set
+upon by its voracious comrades and torn to pieces. Then I had a
+tremendous strike, hard, swift, long--everything to make a tingle of
+nerve and blood. The instant I struck, up out of a flying splash rose a
+long, sharp, silver-flashing tiger of the sea, and if he leaped an inch
+he leaped forty feet. On that light tackle he was a revelation. Five
+times more he leaped, straight up, very high, gills agape, jaws wide,
+body curved--a sight for any angler. He made long runs and short runs
+and all kinds of runs, and for half an hour he defied any strain I dared
+put on him. Eventually I captured him, and I considered him superior to
+a tarpon of equal or even more weight.
+
+Barracuda are a despised fish, apparently because of their voracious and
+murderous nature. But I incline to the belief that it is because the
+invariable use of heavy tackle has blinded the fishermen to the
+wonderful leaping and fighting qualities of this long-nosed,
+long-toothed sea-tiger. The few of us who have hooked barracuda on light
+tackle know him as a marvelous performer. Van Campen Heilner wrote
+about a barracuda he caught on a bass rod, and he is not likely to
+forget it, nor will the reader of his story forget it.
+
+R. C. had another strike, hooked his fish, and brought it in readily. It
+was a bonita of about five pounds, the first one my brother had ever
+caught. We were admiring his beautiful, subdued colors as he swam near
+the boat, when up out of the blue depths shot a long gray form as swift
+as lightning. It was a big barracuda. In his rush he cut that bonita in
+two. The captain grasped the line and yelled for us to get the gaffs. R.
+C. dropped the rod and got the small gaff, and as I went for the big one
+I heard them both yell. Then I bent over to see half a dozen big gray
+streaks rush for what was left of that poor little bonita. The big
+barracuda with incredible speed and unbelievable ferocity rushed right
+to the side of the boat at the bonita. He got hold of it and R. C. in
+striking at him to gaff him hit him over the head several times. Then
+the gaff hook caught him and R. C. began to lift. The barracuda looked
+to me to be fully seven feet long and half as big around as a telegraph
+pole. He made a tremendous splash in the water. R. C. was deluged. He
+and the boatman yelled in their excitement. But R. C. was unable to hold
+the big fish on this small gaff, and I got there too late. The barracuda
+broke loose. Then, equally incredibly, he turned with still greater
+ferocity and rushed the bonita again, but before he could get to it
+another and smaller barracuda had hold of it. At this instant I leaned
+over with a club. With one powerful sweep I hit one of the barracuda on
+the head. When I reached over again the largest one was contending with
+a smaller one for the remains of the bonita. I made a vicious pass at
+the big one, missing him. Quick as I was, before I could get back, the
+big fellow had taken the head of the bonita and rushed off with it,
+tearing the line out of the captain's hands. Then we looked at one
+another. It had all happened in a minute. We were all wringing wet and
+panting from excitement and exertion. This is a gruesome tale of the sea
+and I put it here only to illustrate the incomparable savageness of
+these tigers of the Gulf Stream.
+
+The captain put the fish away and cleaned up the boat and we resumed
+fishing. I ate lunch holding the rod in one hand, loath to waste any
+time on this wonderful day. Sailfish were still jumping here and there
+and far away. The next thing to happen was that R. C. hooked a small
+kingfish, and at the same instant a big one came clear out in an
+unsuccessful effort to get my bait. This happened to be near the reef,
+and as we were going out I hooked a big grouper that tried out my
+small tackle for all it was worth. But I managed to keep him from
+getting on the bottom, and at length brought him in. The little
+six-ounce tip now looked like a buggy-whip that was old and worn
+out. After that nothing happened for quite a little spell. We had
+opportunity to get rested. Presently R. C. had a sailfish tap his bait
+and tap it again and tug at it and then take hold and start away. R.
+C. hooked him and did it carefully, trying not to put too much strain
+on the line. Here is where great skill is required. But the line
+broke. After that he took one of my other tackles. Something went
+wrong with the engine and the captain had to shut down and we drifted.
+I had a long line out and it gradually sank. Something took hold and I
+hooked it and found myself fast to a deep-sea, hard-fighting fish of
+some kind. I got him up eventually, and was surprised to see a great,
+broad, red-colored fish, which turned out to be a mutton-fish, much
+prized for food. I had now gotten six varieties of fish in the Gulf
+Stream and we were wondering what next. I was hoping it would be a
+dolphin or a waahoo. It happened, however, to be a beautiful cero
+mackerel, one of the shapeliest and most attractive fish in these
+waters. He is built something like the brook-trout, except for a much
+sharper head and wider fins and tail. But he is speckled very much
+after the manner of the trout. We trolled on, and all of a sudden
+raised a school of sailfish. They came up with a splashing rush very
+thrilling to see. One hit R. C.'s bait hard, and then another, by way
+of contrast, began to tug and chew at mine. I let the line out slowly.
+And as I did so I saw another one follow R. C.'s mutilated bait which
+he was bringing toward the boat. He was a big purple-and-bronze fellow
+and he would have taken a whole bait if it could have been gotten to
+him. But he sheered away, frightened by the boat. I failed to hook my
+fish. It was getting along pretty well into the afternoon by this time
+and the later it got the better the small fish and kingfish seemed to
+bite. I caught one barracuda and six kingfish, while R. C. was
+performing a somewhat similar feat. Then he got a smashing strike
+from a sailfish that went off on a hard, fast rush, so that he hooked
+it perfectly. He jumped nine times, several of which leaps I
+photographed. He was a good-sized fish and active and strong. R. C.
+had him up to the boat in thirty minutes, which was fine work for the
+light tackle. I made sure that the fish was as good as caught and I
+did not look to see where he was hooked. My boatman is not skilled in
+the handling of the fish when they are brought in. Few boatmen are. He
+took hold of the leader, and as he began to lift I saw that the hook
+was fast in the bill of the sailfish fully six inches from his mouth.
+At that instant the sailfish began to thresh. I yelled to the boatman
+to let go, but either I was not quick enough or he did not obey, for
+the hook snapped free and the sailfish slowly swam away, his great
+purple-and-blue spotted sail waving in the water, and his bronze sides
+shining. And we were both glad that he had gotten away, because we had
+had the fun out of him and had taken pictures of him jumping, and he
+was now alive and might make another fisherman sport some day.
+
+
+
+
+VII
+
+BONEFISH
+
+
+In my experience as a fisherman the greatest pleasure has been the
+certainty of something new to learn, to feel, to anticipate, to thrill
+over. An old proverb tells us that if you wish to bring back the wealth
+of the Indias you must go out with its equivalent. Surely the longer a
+man fishes the wealthier he becomes in experience, in reminiscence, in
+love of nature, if he goes out with the harvest of a quiet eye, free
+from the plague of himself.
+
+As a boy, fishing was a passion with me, but no more for the conquest of
+golden sunfish and speckled chubs and horny catfish than for the
+haunting sound of the waterfall and the color and loneliness of the
+cliffs. As a man, and a writer who is forever learning, fishing is still
+a passion, stronger with all the years, but tempered by an understanding
+of the nature of primitive man, hidden in all of us, and by a keen
+reluctance to deal pain to any creature. The sea and the river and the
+mountain have almost taught me not to kill except for the urgent needs
+of life; and the time will come when I shall have grown up to that. When
+I read a naturalist or a biologist I am always ashamed of what I have
+called a sport. Yet one of the truths of evolution is that not to
+practise strife, not to use violence, not to fish or hunt--that is to
+say, not to fight--is to retrograde as a natural man. Spiritual and
+intellectual growth is attained at the expense of the physical.
+
+Always, then, when I am fishing I feel that the fish are incidental, and
+that the reward of effort and endurance, the incalculable and intangible
+knowledge emanate from the swelling and infinite sea or from the shaded
+and murmuring stream. Thus I assuage my conscience and justify the fun,
+the joy, the excitement, and the violence.
+
+Five years ago I had never heard of a bonefish. The first man who ever
+spoke to me about this species said to me, very quietly with serious
+intentness: "Have you had any experience with bonefish?" I said no, and
+asked him what kind that was. His reply was enigmatical. "Well, don't go
+after bonefish unless you can give up all other fishing." I remember I
+laughed. But I never forgot that remark, and now it comes back to me
+clear in its significance. That fisherman read me as well as I
+misunderstood him.
+
+Later that season I listened to talk of inexperienced bonefishermen
+telling what they had done and heard. To me it was absurd. So much
+fishing talk seems ridiculous, anyway. And the expert fishermen,
+wherever they were, received the expressive titles: "Bonefish Bugs and
+Bonefish Nuts!" Again I heard arguments about tackle rigged for these
+mysterious fish and these arguments fixed my vague impression. By and by
+some bonefishermen came to Long Key, and the first sight of a bonefish
+made me curious. I think it weighed five pounds--a fair-sized specimen.
+Even to my prejudiced eye that fish showed class. So I began to question
+the bonefishermen.
+
+At once I found this type of angler to be remarkably reticent as to
+experience and method. Moreover, the tackle used was amazing to me.
+Stiff rods and heavy lines for little fish! I gathered another
+impression, and it was that bonefish were related to dynamite and chain
+lightning. Everybody who would listen to my questions had different
+things to say. No two men agreed on tackle or bait or ground or
+anything. I enlisted the interest of my brother R. C., and we decided,
+just to satisfy curiosity, to go out and catch some bonefish. The
+complacent, smug conceit of fishermen! I can see now how funny ours was.
+Fortunately it is now past tense. If I am ever conceited again I hope no
+one will read my stories.
+
+My brother and I could not bring ourselves to try for bonefish with
+heavy tackle. It was preposterous. Three--four--five-pound fish! We had
+seen no larger. Bass tackle was certainly heavy enough for us. So in the
+innocence of our hearts and the assurance of our vanity we sallied forth
+to catch bonefish.
+
+That was four years ago. Did we have good luck? No! Luck has nothing to
+do with bonefishing. What happened? For one solid month each winter of
+those four years we had devoted ourselves to bonefishing with light
+tackle. We stuck to our colors. The space of this whole volume would not
+be half enough to tell our experience--the amaze, the difficulty, the
+perseverance, the defeat, the wonder, and at last the achievement. The
+season of 1918 we hooked about fifty bonefish on three-six tackles--that
+is, three-ounce tips and six-thread lines--and we landed fourteen of
+them. I caught nine and R. C. caught five. R. C.'s eight-pound fish
+justified our contention and crowned our efforts.
+
+To date, in all my experience, I consider this bonefish achievement the
+most thrilling, fascinating, difficult, and instructive. That is a broad
+statement and I hope I can prove it. I am prepared to state that I feel
+almost certain, if I spent another month bonefishing, I would become
+obsessed and perhaps lose my enthusiasm for other kinds of fish.
+
+Why?
+
+There is a multiplicity of reasons. My reasons range from the
+exceedingly graceful beauty of a bonefish to the fact that he is the
+best food fish I ever ate. That is a wide range. He is the wisest,
+shyest, wariest, strangest fish I ever studied; and I am not excepting
+the great _Xiphias gladius_--the broadbill swordfish. As for the speed
+of a bonefish, I claim no salmon, no barracuda, no other fish celebrated
+for swiftness of motion, is in his class. A bonefish is so incredibly
+fast that it was a long time before I could believe the evidence of my
+own eyes. You see him; he is there perfectly still in the clear, shallow
+water, a creature of fish shape, pale green and silver, but
+crystal-like, a phantom shape, staring at you with strange black eyes;
+then he is gone. Vanished! Absolutely without your seeing a movement,
+even a faint streak! By peering keenly you may discern a little swirl in
+the water. As for the strength of a bonefish, I actually hesitate to
+give my impressions. No one will ever believe how powerful a bonefish
+is until he has tried to stop the rush and heard the line snap. As for
+his cunning, it is utterly baffling. As for his biting, it is almost
+imperceptible. As for his tactics, they are beyond conjecture.
+
+ [Illustration: THE GAMEST FISH THAT SWIMS]
+
+ [Illustration: A WAAHOO]
+
+I want to append here a few passages from my note-books, in the hope
+that a bare, bald statement of fact will help my argument.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+First experience on a bonefish shoal. This wide area of coral mud was
+dry at low tide. When we arrived the tide was rising. Water scarcely a
+foot deep, very clear. Bottom white, with patches of brown grass. We saw
+bonefish everywhere and expected great sport. But no matter where we
+stopped we could not get any bites. Schools of bonefish swam up to the
+boat, only to dart away. Everywhere we saw thin white tails sticking
+out, as they swam along, feeding with noses in the mud. When we drew in
+our baits we invariably found them half gone, and it was our assumption
+that the blue crabs did this.
+
+At sunset the wind quieted. It grew very still and beautiful. The water
+was rosy. Here and there we saw swirls and tails standing out, and we
+heard heavy thumps of plunging fish. But we could not get any bites.
+
+When we returned to camp we were told that the half of our soldier-crab
+baits had been sucked off by bonefish. Did not believe that.
+
+Tide bothered us again this morning. It seems exceedingly difficult to
+tell one night before what the tide is going to do the next morning. At
+ten o'clock we walked to the same place we were yesterday. It was a
+bright, warm day, with just enough breeze to ruffle the water and make
+fishing pleasant, and we certainly expected to have good luck. But we
+fished for about three hours without any sign of a fish. This was
+discouraging and we could not account for it.
+
+So we moved. About half a mile down the beach I thought I caught a
+glimpse of a bonefish. It was a likely-looking contrast to the white
+marl all around. Here I made a long cast and sat down to wait. My
+brother lagged behind. Presently I spied two bonefish nosing along not
+ten feet from the shore. They saw me, so I made no attempt to drag the
+bait near them, but I called to my brother and told him to try to get a
+bait ahead of them. This was a little after flood-tide. It struck me
+then that these singular fish feed up the beach with one tide and down
+with another.
+
+Just when my brother reached me I got a nibble. I called to him and then
+stood up, ready to strike. I caught a glimpse of the fish. He looked big
+and dark. He had his nose down, fooling with my bait. When I struck him
+he felt heavy. I put on the click of the reel, and when the bonefish
+started off he pulled the rod down hard, taking the line fast. He made
+one swirl on the surface and then started up-shore. He seemed
+exceedingly swift. I ran along the beach until presently the line
+slackened and I felt that the hook had torn out. This was
+disappointment. I could not figure that I had done anything wrong, but I
+decided in the future to use a smaller and sharper hook. We went on down
+the beach, seeing several bonefish on the way, and finally we ran into
+a big school of them. They were right alongshore, but when they saw us
+we could not induce them to bite.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Every day we learn something. It is necessary to keep out of sight of
+these fish. After they bite, everything depends upon the skilful hooking
+of the fish. Probably it will require a good deal of skill to land them
+after you have hooked them, but we have had little experience at that so
+far. When these fish are along the shore they certainly are feeding, and
+presumably they are feeding on crabs of some sort. Bonefish appear to be
+game worthy of any fisherman's best efforts.
+
+It was a still, hot day, without any clouds. We went up the beach to a
+point opposite an old construction camp. To-day when we expected the
+tide to be doing one thing it was doing another. Ebb and flow and
+flood-tide have become as difficult as Sanskrit synonyms for me. My
+brother took an easy and comfortable chair and sat up the beach, and I,
+like an ambitious fisherman, laboriously and adventurously waded out one
+hundred and fifty feet to an old platform that had been erected there. I
+climbed upon this, and found it a very precarious place to sit. Come to
+think about it, there is something very remarkable about the places a
+fisherman will pick out to sit down on. This place was a two-by-four
+plank full of nails, and I cheerfully availed myself of it and, casting
+my bait out as far as I could, I calmly sat down to wait for a bonefish.
+It has become a settled conviction in my mind that you have to wait for
+bonefish. But all at once I got a hard bite. It quite excited me. I
+jerked and pulled the bait away from the fish and he followed it and
+took it again. I saw this fish and several others in the white patch of
+ground where there were not any weeds. But in my excitement I did not
+have out a long enough line, and when I jerked the fish turned over and
+got away. This was all right, but the next two hours sitting in the sun
+on that seat with a nail sticking into me were not altogether
+pleasurable. When I thought I had endured it as long as I could I saw a
+flock of seven bonefish swimming past me, and one of them was a whopper.
+The sight revived me. I hardly breathed while that bunch of fish swam
+right for my bait, and for all I could see they did not know it was
+there. I waited another long time. The sun was hot--there was no
+breeze--the heat was reflected from the water. I could have stood all
+this well enough, but I could not stand the nails. So I climbed down off
+my perch, having forgotten that all this time the tide had been rising.
+And as I could not climb back I had to get wet, to the infinite
+amusement of my brother. After that I fished from the shore.
+
+Presently my brother shouted and I looked up to see him pulling on a
+fish. There was a big splash in the water and then I saw his line
+running out. The fish was heading straight for the framework on which I
+had been seated and I knew if he ever did get there he would break the
+line. All of a sudden I saw the fish he had hooked. And he reached the
+framework all right!
+
+I had one more strike this day, but did not hook the fish. It seems this
+bonefishing takes infinite patience. For all we can tell, these fish
+come swimming along with the rising tide close in to shore and they are
+exceedingly shy and wary. My brother now has caught two small bonefish
+and each of them gave a good strong bite, at once starting off with the
+bait. We had been under the impression that it was almost impossible to
+feel the bonefish bite. It will take work to learn this game.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Yesterday we went up on the north side of the island to the place near
+the mangroves where we had seen some bonefish. Arriving there, we found
+the tide almost flood, with the water perfectly smooth and very clear
+and about a foot deep up at the mangrove roots. Here and there at a
+little distance we could see splashes. We separated, and I took the
+outside, while R. C. took the inside close to the mangroves. We waded
+along. Before I had time to make a cast I saw a three-pound bonefish
+come sneaking along, and when he saw me he darted away like an arrow. I
+made a long cast and composed myself to wait. Presently a yell from R.
+C. electrified me with the hope that he had hooked a fish. But it turned
+out that he had only seen one. He moved forward very cautiously in the
+water and presently made a cast. He then said that a big bonefish was
+right near his hook, and during the next few minutes this fish circled
+his bait twice, crossing his line. Then he counted out loud: one, two,
+three, four, five bonefish right in front of him, one of which was a
+whopper. I stood up myself and saw one over to my right, of about five
+pounds, sneaking along with his nose to the bottom. When I made a cast
+over in his direction he disappeared as suddenly as if he had dissolved
+in the water. Looking out to my left, I saw half a dozen bonefish
+swimming toward me, and they came quite close. When I moved they
+vanished. Then I made a cast over in this direction. The bonefish came
+back and swam all around my bait, apparently not noticing it. They were
+on the feed, and the reason they did not take our bait must have been
+that they saw us. We fished there for an hour without having a sign of a
+bite, and then we gave it up.
+
+To-day about flood-tide I had a little strike. I jerked hard, but failed
+to see the fish, and then when I reeled in I found he still had hold of
+it. Then I struck him, and in one little jerk he broke the leader.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I just had a talk with a fellow who claims to know a good deal about
+bonefishing. He said he had caught a good many ranging up to eight
+pounds. His claim was that soldier crabs were the best bait. He said he
+had fished with professional boatmen who knew the game thoroughly. They
+would pole the skiff alongshore and keep a sharp lookout for what he
+called bonefish mud. And I assume that he meant muddy places in the
+water that had been stirred up by bonefish. Of course, any place where
+these little swirls could be seen was very likely to be a bonefish bank.
+He claimed that it was necessary to hold the line near the reel between
+the forefingers, and to feel for the very slightest vibration. Bonefish
+have a sucker-like mouth. They draw the bait in, and smash it.
+Sometimes, of course, they move away, drawing out the line, but that
+kind of a bite is exceptional. It is imperative to strike the fish when
+this vibration is felt. Not one in five bonefish is hooked.
+
+We have had two northers and the water grew so cold that it drove the
+fish out. The last two or three days have been warm and to-day it was
+hot. However, I did not expect the bonefish in yet, and when we went in
+bathing at flood-tide I was very glad to see two fish. I hurried out and
+got my rod and began to try. Presently I had a little strike. I waited
+and it was repeated; then I jerked and felt the fish. He made a wave and
+that was the last I knew of him.
+
+Reeling in, I looked at my bait, to find that it had been pretty badly
+chewed, but I fastened it on again and made another cast. I set down the
+rod. Then I went back after the bucket for the rest of the bait. Upon my
+return I saw the line jerking and I ran to the rod. I saw a little
+splash, and a big white tail of a bonefish stick out of the water. I put
+my thumb on the reel and jerked hard. Instantly I felt the fish, heavy
+and powerful. He made a surge and then ran straight out. The line burned
+my thumb so I could not hold it. I put on the click and the fish made a
+swifter, harder run for at least a hundred yards, and he tore the hook
+out.
+
+This makes a number of fish that have gotten away from me in this
+manner. It is exasperating and difficult to explain. I have to use a
+pretty heavy sinker in order to cast the bait out. I have arranged this
+sinker, which has a hole through it, so that the line will run freely.
+This seems to work all right on the bite, but I am afraid it does not
+work after the fish is hooked. That sinker drags on the bottom. This is
+the best rigging that I can plan at the present stage of the game. I
+have an idea now that a bonefish should be hooked hard and then very
+carefully handled.
+
+I fished off the beach awhile in front of the cabin. We used both kinds
+of crabs, soldier and hermit. I fished two hours and a half, from the
+late rising tide to the first of the ebb, without a sign or sight of a
+fish. R. C. finally got tired and set his rod and went in bathing. Then
+it happened. I heard his reel singing and saw his rod nodding; then I
+made a dash for it. The fish was running straight out, heavy and fast,
+and he broke the line.
+
+This may have been caused by the heavy sinker catching in the weeds. We
+must do more planning to get a suitable rig for these bonefish.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Day before yesterday R. C. and I went up to the Long Key point, and
+rowed in on the mangrove shoal where once before I saw so many bonefish.
+The tide was about one-quarter in, and there was a foot of water all
+over the flats. We anchored at the outer edge and began to fish. We had
+made elaborate preparations in the way of tackle, bait, canoe, etc., and
+it really would have been remarkable if we had had any luck. After a
+little while I distinctly felt something at my hook, and upon jerking I
+had one splendid surge out of a good, heavy bonefish. That was all that
+happened in that place.
+
+It was near flood-tide when we went back. I stood up and kept a keen
+watch for little muddy places in the water, also bonefish. At last I saw
+several fish, and there we anchored. I fished on one side of the boat,
+and R. C. on the other. On two different occasions, feeling a nibble on
+his line, he jerked, all to no avail. The third time he yelled as he
+struck, and I turned in time to see the white thresh of a bonefish. He
+made a quick dash off to the side and then came in close to the boat,
+swimming around with short runs two or three times, and then, apparently
+tired, he came close. I made ready to lift him into the boat, when, lo
+and behold! he made a wonderful run of fully three hundred feet before
+R. C. could stop him. Finally he was led to the boat, and turned out to
+be a fish of three and a half pounds. It simply made R. C. and me gasp
+to speak of what a really large bonefish might be able to do. There is
+something irresistible about the pursuit of these fish, and perhaps this
+is it. We changed places, and as a last try anchored in deeper water,
+fishing as before. This time I had a distinct tug at my line and I
+hooked a fish. He wiggled and jerked and threshed around so that I told
+R. C. that it was not a bonefish, but R. C. contended it was. Anyway, he
+came toward the boat rather easily until we saw him and he saw us, and
+then he made a dash similar to that of R. C.'s fish and he tore out the
+hook. This was the extent of our adventure that day, and we were very
+much pleased.
+
+Next morning we started out with a high northeast trade-wind blowing.
+Nothing could dampen our ardor.
+
+It was blowing so hard up at No. 2 viaduct that we decided to stay
+inside. There is a big flat there cut up by channels, and it is said to
+be a fine ground for bonefish. The tide was right and the water was
+clear, but even in the lee of the bank the wind blew pretty hard. We
+anchored in about three feet of water and began to fish.
+
+After a while we moved. The water was about a foot deep, and the bottom
+clean white marl, with little patches of vegetation. Crabs and
+crab-holes were numerous. I saw a small shark and a couple of rays. When
+we got to the middle of a big flat I saw the big, white, glistening
+tails of bonefish sticking out of the water. We dropped anchor and, much
+excited, were about to make casts, when R. C. lost his hat. He swore. We
+had to pull up anchor and go get the hat. Unfortunately this scared the
+fish. Also it presaged a rather hard-luck afternoon. In fishing, as in
+many other things, if the beginning is tragedy all will be tragedy,
+growing worse all the time. We moved around up above where I had seen
+these bonefish, and there we dropped anchor. No sooner had we gotten our
+baits overboard than we began to see bonefish tails off at quite some
+distance. The thing to do, of course, was to sit right there and be
+patient, but this was almost impossible for us. We moved again and
+again, but we did not get any nearer to the fish. Finally I determined
+that we would stick in one place. This we did, and the bonefish began to
+come around. When they would swim close to the boat and see us they
+would give a tremendous surge and disappear, as if by magic. But they
+always left a muddy place in the water. The speed of these fish is
+beyond belief. I could not cast where I wanted to; I tried again and
+again. When I did get my bait off at a reasonable distance, I could feel
+crabs nibbling at it. These pests robbed us of many a good bait. One of
+them cut my line right in two. They seemed to be very plentiful, and
+that must be why the bonefish were plentiful, too. R. C. kept losing
+bait after bait, which he claimed was the work of crabs, but I rather
+believed it to be the work of bonefish. It was too windy for us to tell
+anything about the pressure of the line. It had to be quite a strong tug
+to be felt at all. Presently I felt one, and instead of striking at once
+I waited to see what would happen. After a while I reeled in to find my
+bait gone. Then I was consoled by the proof that a bonefish had taken
+the bait off for me. Another time three bonefish came along for my bait
+and stuck their tails up out of the water, and were evidently nosing
+around it, but I felt absolutely nothing on the line. When I reeled in
+the bait was gone.
+
+We kept up this sort of thing for two hours. I knew that we were doing
+it wrong. R. C. said bad conditions, but I claimed that these were only
+partly responsible for our failure. I knew that we moved about too much,
+that we did not cast far enough and wait long enough, and that by all
+means we should not have cracked bait on the bottom of the boat, and
+particularly we did not know when we had a bite! But it is one thing to
+be sure of a fact and another to be able to practise it. At last we gave
+up in despair, and upon paddling back toward the launch we saw a school
+of bonefish with their tails in the air. We followed them around for a
+while, apparently very much to their amusement. At sunset we got back
+to the launch and started for camp.
+
+This was a long, hard afternoon's work for nothing. However, it is my
+idea that experience is never too dearly bought. I will never do some
+things again, and the harder these fish are to catch, the more time and
+effort it takes--the more intelligence and cunning--all the more will I
+appreciate success if it ever does come. It is in the attainment of
+difficult tasks that we earn our reward. There are several old bonefish
+experts here in camp, and they laughed when I related some of our
+experiences. Bonefishermen are loath to tell anything about their
+methods. This must be a growth of the difficult game. I had an expert
+bonefisherman tell me that when he was surprised while fishing on one of
+the shoals, he always dropped his rod and pretended to be digging for
+shells. And it is a fact that the bonefish guides at Metacumbe did not
+let any one get a line on their methods. They will avoid a
+bonefishing-ground while others are there, and if they are surprised
+there ahead of others, they will pull up anchor and go away. May I be
+preserved from any such personal selfishness and reticence as this! One
+of these bonefish experts at the camp told me that in all his years of
+experience he had never gotten a bonefish bite. If you feel a tug, it is
+when the bonefish is ejecting the hook. Then it is too late. The
+bonefish noses around the bait and sucks it in without any apparent
+movement of the line. And that can be detected first by a little sagging
+of the line or by a little strain upon it. That is the time to strike.
+He also said that he always broke his soldier crabs on a piece of lead
+to prevent the jar from frightening the fish.
+
+Doctor B. tells a couple of interesting experiences with bonefish. On
+one occasion he was fishing near another boat in which was a friend. The
+water was very clear and still, and he could see his friend's bait lying
+upon the sand. An enormous bonefish swam up and took the bait, and
+Doctor B. was so thrilled and excited that he could not yell. When the
+man hooked the fish it shot off in a straightaway rush, raising a ridge
+upon the water. It ran the length of the line and freed itself. Later
+Doctor B.'s friend showed the hook, that had been straightened out. They
+measured the line and found it to be five hundred and fifty-five feet.
+The bonefish had gone the length of this in one run, and they estimated
+that he would have weighed not less than fifteen pounds.
+
+On another occasion Dr. B. saw a heavy bonefish hooked. It ran
+straight off shore, and turning, ran in with such speed that it
+came shooting out upon dry land and was easily captured. These two
+instances are cases in point of the incredible speed and strength
+of this strange fish.
+
+R. C. had a splendid fight with a bonefish to-day. The wind was blowing
+hard and the canoe was not easy to fish out of. We had great difficulty
+in telling when we did have a bite. I had one that I know of. When R. C.
+hooked his fish it sheered off between the canoe and the beach and ran
+up-shore quite a long way. Then it headed out to sea and made a long
+run, and then circled. It made short, quick surges, each time jerking R.
+C.'s rod down and pulling the reel handle out of his fingers. He had to
+put on a glove. We were both excited and thrilled with the gameness of
+this fish. It circled the canoe three times, and tired out very slowly.
+When he got it close the very thing happened that I feared. It darted
+under the anchor rope and we lost it. This battle lasted about fifteen
+minutes, and afforded us an actual instance of the wonderful qualities
+of this fish.
+
+Yesterday R. C. hooked a bonefish that made a tremendous rush straight
+offshore, and never stopped until he had pulled out the hook. This must
+have been a very heavy and powerful fish.
+
+I had my taste of the same dose to-day. I felt a tiny little tug upon my
+line that electrified me and I jerked as hard as I dared. I realized
+that I had hooked some kind of fish, but, as it was wiggling and did not
+feel heavy, I concluded that I had hooked one of those pesky blowfish.
+But all of a sudden my line cut through the water and fairly whistled. I
+wound in the slack and then felt a heavy fish. He made a short plunge
+and then a longer one, straight out, making my reel scream. I was afraid
+to thumb the line, so I let him go. With these jerky plunges he ran
+about three hundred feet. Then I felt my line get fast, and, handing my
+rod to R. C., I slipped off my shoes and went overboard. I waded out,
+winding as I went, to find that the bonefish had fouled the line on a
+sponge on the bottom, and he had broken free just above the hook.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Yesterday the fag end of the northeast gale still held on, but we
+decided to try for bonefish. Low tide at two o'clock.
+
+I waded up-shore with the canoe, and R. C. walked. It was a hard job to
+face the wind and waves and pull the canoe. It made me tired and wet.
+
+When we got above the old camp the tide had started in. We saw bonefish
+tails standing up out of the water. Hurriedly baiting our hooks, we
+waded to get ahead of them. But we could not catch them wading, so went
+back to the canoe and paddled swiftly ahead, anchored, and got out to
+wade once more.
+
+R. C. was above me. We saw the big tail of one bonefish and both of us
+waded to get ahead of him. At last I made a cast, but did not see him
+any more. The wind was across my line, making a big curve in it, and I
+was afraid I could not tell a bite if I had one. Was about to reel in
+when I felt the faint tug. I swept my rod up and back, hard as I dared.
+The line came tight, I felt a heavy weight; a quiver, and then my rod
+was pulled down. I had hooked him. The thrill was remarkable. He took a
+short dash, then turned. I thought I had lost him. But he was running
+in. Frantically I wound the reel, but could not get in the slack. I saw
+my line coming, heard it hiss in the water, then made out the dark shape
+of a bonefish. He ran right at me--almost hit my feet. When he saw me he
+darted off with incredible speed, making my reel scream. I feared the
+strain on the line, and I plunged through the water as fast as I could
+after him. He ran four hundred feet in that dash, and I ran fifty. Not
+often have I of late years tingled and thrilled and panted with such
+excitement. It was great. It brought back the days of boyhood. When he
+stopped that run I was tired and thoroughly wet. He sheered off as I
+waded and wound in. I got him back near me. He shot off in a shoal place
+of white mud where I saw him plainly, and he scared a school of bonefish
+that split and ran every way. My fish took to making short circles; I
+could not keep a tight line. Lost! I wound in fast, felt him again, then
+absolutely lost feel of him or sight of him. Lost again! My sensations
+were remarkable, considering it was only a fish of arm's-length at the
+end of the line. But these bonefish rouse an angler as no other fish
+can. All at once I felt the line come tight. He was still on, now
+running inshore.
+
+The water was about a foot deep. I saw the bulge, or narrow wave, he
+made. He ran out a hundred feet, and had me dashing after him again. I
+could not trust that light line at the speed he swam, so I ran to
+release the strain. He led me inshore, then up-shore, and out toward sea
+again, all the time fighting with a couple of hundred feet of line out.
+Occasionally he would make a solid, thumping splash. He worked offshore
+some two hundred yards, where be led me in water half to my hips. I had
+to try to stop him here, and with fear and trepidation I thumbed the
+reel. The first pressure brought a savage rush, but it was short. He
+turned, and I wound him back and waded inshore.
+
+From that moment I had him beaten, although I was afraid of his short
+thumps as he headed away and tugged. Finally I had him within twenty
+feet circling around me, tired and loggy, yet still strong enough to
+require careful handling.
+
+He looked short and heavy, pale checked green and silver; and his
+staring black eye, set forward in his pointed white nose, could be
+plainly seen. This fish made a rare picture for an angler.
+
+So I led him to the canoe and, ascertaining that I had him well hooked,
+I lifted him in.
+
+Never have I seen so beautiful a fish. A golden trout, a white sea-bass,
+a dolphin, all are beautiful, but not so exquisite as this bonefish. He
+seemed all bars of dazzling silver. His tail had a blue margin and
+streaks of lilac. His lower (anal) fins were blazing with opal fire, and
+the pectoral fins were crystal white. His eye was a dead, piercing
+black, staring and deep. We estimated his weight. I held for six pounds,
+but R. C. shook his head. He did not believe that. But we agreed on the
+magnificent fight he had made.
+
+Then we waded up-shore farther and began to fish. In just five minutes I
+had the same kind of strike, slight, almost imperceptible, vibrating,
+and I hooked a fish exactly as I had the first one. He was light of
+weight, but swift as a flash. I played him from where I stood. This time
+I essayed with all skill to keep a taut line. It was impossible. Now I
+felt his weight and again only a slack line. This fish, too, ran right
+to my feet, then in a boiling splash sheered away. But he could not go
+far. I reeled him back and led him to the canoe. He was small, and the
+smallness of him was such a surprise in contrast to what his fight had
+led me to imagine he was.
+
+R. C. had one strike and broke his line on the jerk. We had to give up
+on account of sunset at hand.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+There was another hard thunder-storm last night. The last few days have
+begun the vernal equinox. It rained torrents all night and stopped at
+dawn. The wind was northeast and cool. Cloudy overhead, with purple
+horizon all around--a forbidding day. But we decided to go fishing,
+anyhow. We had new, delicate three-six tackles to try. About seven the
+wind died away. There was a dead calm, and the sun tried to show. Then
+another breeze came out of the east.
+
+We went up on the inside after bait, and had the luck to find some.
+Crossing the island, we came out at the old construction camp where we
+had left the canoe. By this time a stiff breeze was blowing and the tide
+was rising fast. We had our troubles paddling and poling up to the grove
+of cocoanuts. Opposite this we anchored and began to fish.
+
+Conditions were not favorable. The water was choppy and roily, the canoe
+bobbed a good deal, the anchors dragged, and we did not see any fish.
+All the same, we persevered. At length I had a bite, but pulled too
+late. We tried again for a while, only to be disappointed. Then we
+moved.
+
+We had to put the stern anchor down first and let it drag till it held
+and the canoe drifted around away from the wind, then we dropped the bow
+anchor. After a time I had a faint feeling at the end of my line--an
+indescribable feeling. I jerked and hooked a bonefish. He did not feel
+heavy. He ran off, and the wind bagged my line and the waves also helped
+to pull out the hook.
+
+Following that we changed places several times, in one of which R. C.
+had a strike, but failed to hook the fish. Just opposite the old wreck
+on the shore I had another fish take hold, and, upon hooking him, had
+precisely the same thing happen as in the first instance. I think the
+bag of my line, which I could not avoid, allowed the lead to sag down
+and drag upon the bottom. Of course when it caught the bonefish pulled
+free.
+
+In some places we found the water clearer than in others. Flood-tide had
+long come when we anchored opposite the old camp. R. C. cast out upon a
+brown patch of weeds where we have caught some fine fish, and I cast
+below. Perhaps in five minutes or less R. C. swept up his rod. I saw it
+bend forward, down toward the water. He had hooked a heavy fish. The
+line hissed away to the right, and almost at once picked up a good-sized
+piece of seaweed.
+
+"It's a big fish!" I exclaimed, excitedly. "Look at him go!... That
+seaweed will make you lose him. Let me wade out and pull it off?"
+
+"No! Let's take a chance.... Too late, anyhow! Gee! He's going!... He's
+got two hundred yards out!"
+
+Two-thirds of the line was off the reel, and the piece of seaweed seemed
+to be a drag on the fish. He slowed up. The line was tight, the rod
+bent. Suddenly the tip sprang back. We had seen that often before.
+
+"Gone!" said R. C., dejectedly.
+
+But I was not so sure of that, although I was hopeless. R. C. wound in,
+finding the line came slowly, as if weighted. I watched closely. We
+thought that was on account of the seaweed. But suddenly the reel began
+to screech.
+
+"I've got him yet!" yelled R. C., with joy.
+
+I was overjoyed, too, but I contained myself, for I expected dire
+results from that run.
+
+Zee! Zee! Zee! went the reel, and the rod nodded in time.
+
+"We must get rid of that seaweed or lose him.... Pull up your anchor
+with one hand.... Careful now."
+
+He did so, and quickly I got mine up. What ticklish business!
+
+"Keep a tight line!" I cautioned, as I backed the canoe hard with all my
+power. It was not easy to go backward and keep head on to the wind. The
+waves broke over the end of the canoe, splashing me in the face so I
+could taste and smell the salt. I made half a dozen shoves with the
+paddle. Then, nearing the piece of seaweed, I dropped my anchor.
+
+In a flash I got that dangerous piece of seaweed off R. C.'s line.
+
+"Good work!... Say, but that helps.... We'd never have gotten him," said
+R. C., beaming. I saw him look then as he used to in our sunfish,
+bent-pin days.
+
+"We've not got him yet," I replied, grimly. "Handle him as easily as you
+can."
+
+Then began a fight. The bonefish changed his swift, long runs, and took
+to slow sweeps to and fro, and whenever he was drawn a few yards closer
+he would give a solid jerk and get that much line back. There was much
+danger from other pieces of floating weed. R. C. maneuvered his line to
+miss them. All the time the bonefish was pulling doggedly. I had little
+hope we might capture him. At the end of fifteen minutes he was still a
+hundred yards from the canoe and neither of us had seen him. Our
+excitement grew tenser every moment. The fish sheered to and fro, and
+would not come into shallower water. He would not budge. He took one
+long run straight up the shore, in line with us, and then circled out.
+This alarmed me, but he did not increase his lead. He came slowly
+around, yard by yard. R. C. reeled carefully, not hard enough to
+antagonize him, and after what seemed a long time got him within a
+hundred feet, and I had a glimpse of green and silver. Then off he ran
+again. How unbelievably swift! He had been close--then almost the same
+instant he was far off.
+
+"I saw him! On a wave!" yelled R. C. "That's no bonefish! What can he
+be, anyhow? I believe I've got a barracuda!"
+
+I looked and looked, but I could not see him.
+
+"No matter what you think you saw, that fish is a bonefish," I declared,
+positively. "The runs he made! I saw silver and green! Careful now. I
+_know_ he's a bonefish. And he must be big."
+
+"Maybe it's only the wind and waves that make him feel so strong,"
+replied R. C.
+
+"No! You can't fool me! Play him for a big one. He's been on
+twenty-three minutes now. Stand up--I'll steady the canoe--and watch for
+that sudden rush when he sees the canoe. The finish is in sight."
+
+It was an indication of a tiring fish that he made his first circle of
+the canoe, but too far out for us to see him. This circling a boat is a
+remarkable feature, and I think it comes from the habit of a bonefish of
+pulling broadside. I cautioned R. C. to avoid the seaweed and to lead
+him a little more, but to be infinitely careful not to apply too much
+strain. He circled us again, a few yards closer. The third circle he did
+not gain a foot. Then he was on his fourth lap around the canoe, drawing
+closer. On his fifth lap clear round us he came near as fifty feet. I
+could not resist standing up to see. I got a glimpse of him and he
+looked long. But I did not say anything to R. C. We had both hooked too
+many big bonefish that got away immediately. This was another affair.
+
+He circled us the sixth time. Six times! Then he came rather close. On
+this occasion he saw the canoe. He surged and sped out so swiftly that I
+was simply paralyzed. R. C. yelled something that had a note of
+admiration of sheer glory in the spirit of that fish.
+
+"Here's where he leaves us!" I echoed.
+
+But, as luck would have it, he stopped that run short of two hundred
+yards; and turned broadside to circle slowly back, allowing R. C. to get
+in line. He swam slower this time, and did not make the heavy tugs. He
+came easily, weaving to and fro. R. C. got him to within twenty-five
+feet of the boat, yet still could not see him. It was my job to think
+quick and sit still with ready hands on the anchor rope. He began to
+plunge, taking a little line each time. Then suddenly I saw R. C.'s line
+coming toward us. I knew that would happen.
+
+"Now! Look out! Reel in fast!" I cried, tensely.
+
+As I leaned over to heave up the anchor, I saw the bonefish flashing
+nearer. At that instant of thrilling excitement and suspense I could not
+trust my eyesight. There he was, swimming heavily, and he looked three
+feet long, thick and dark and heavy. I got the anchor up just as he
+passed under the canoe. Maybe I did not revel in pride of my quickness
+of thought and action!
+
+"Oh! He's gone under the rope!" gasped R. C.
+
+"No!" I yelled, sharply. "Let your line run out! Put your tip down!
+We'll drift over your line."
+
+R. C. was dominated to do so, and presently the canoe drifted over where
+the line was stretched. That second ticklish moment passed. It had
+scared me. But I could not refrain from one sally.
+
+"I got the anchor up. What did you think I'd do?"
+
+R. C. passed by my remark. This was serious business for him. He looked
+quite earnest and pale.
+
+"Say! did you see him?" he ejaculated, looking at me.
+
+"Wish I hadn't," I replied.
+
+We were drifting inshore, which was well, provided we did not drift too
+hard to suit the bonefish. He swam along in plain sight, and he seemed
+so big that I would not have gazed any longer if I could have helped it.
+
+I kept the canoe headed in, and we were not long coming to shallow
+water. Here the bonefish made a final dash for freedom, but it was short
+and feeble, compared with his first runs. He got about twenty feet away,
+then sheered, showing his broad, silver side. R. C. wound him in close,
+and an instant later the bow of the canoe grated on shore.
+
+"Now what?" asked R. C. as I stepped out into the water. "Won't it be
+risky to lift him into the canoe?"
+
+"Lift nothing! I have this all figured out. Lead him along."
+
+R. C. stepped out upon the beach while I was in the water. The bonefish
+lay on his side, a blaze of silver. I took hold of the line very gently
+and led the fish a little closer in. The water was about six inches
+deep. There were waves beating in--a miniature surf. And I calculated on
+the receding of a wave. Then with one quick pull I slid our beautiful
+quarry up on the coral sand. The instant he was out of the water the
+leader snapped. I was ready for this, too. But at that it was an awful
+instant! As the wave came back, almost deep enough to float the
+bonefish, I scooped him up.
+
+"He's ours!" I said, consulting my watch. "Thirty-three minutes! I give
+you my word that fight was comparable to ones I've had with a Pacific
+swordfish."
+
+"Look at him!" R. C. burst out. "Look at him! When the leader broke I
+thought he was lost. I'm sick yet. Didn't you almost bungle that?"
+
+"Not a chance, R. C.," I replied. "Had that all figured. I never put any
+strain on your line until the wave went back. Then I slid him out, the
+leader broke, and I scooped him up."
+
+R. C. stood gazing down at the glistening, opal-spotted fish. What a
+contrast he presented to any other kind of a fish! How many beautiful
+species have we seen lying on sand or moss or ferns, just come out of
+the water! But I could remember no other so rare as this bonefish. The
+exceeding difficulty of the capture of this, our first really large
+bonefish, had a great deal to do with our admiration and pride. For the
+hard work of any achievement is what makes it worth while. But this had
+nothing to do with the exquisite, indescribable beauty of the bonefish.
+He was long, thick, heavy, and round, with speed and power in every
+line; a sharp white nose and huge black eyes. The body of him was live,
+quivering silver, molten silver in the sunlight, crossed and barred with
+blazing stripes. The opal hues came out upon the anal fin, and the broad
+tail curled up, showing lavender tints on a background of brilliant
+blue. He weighed eight pounds. Symbolic of the mysterious life and
+beauty in the ocean! Wonderful and prolific as nature is on land, she is
+infinitely more so in the sea. By the sun and the sea we live; and I
+shall never tire of seeking and studying the manifold life of the deep.
+
+
+
+
+VIII
+
+SOME RARE FISH
+
+
+It is very strange that the longer a man fishes the more there seems to
+be to learn. In my case this is one of the secrets of the fascination of
+the game. Always there will be greater fish in the ocean than I have
+ever caught.
+
+Five or six years ago I heard the name "waahoo" mentioned at Long Key.
+The boatmen were using it in a way to make one see that they did not
+believe there was such a fish as a waahoo. The old conch fishermen had
+never heard the name. For that matter, neither had I.
+
+Later I heard the particulars of a hard and spectacular fight Judge
+Shields had had with a strange fish which the Smithsonian declared to be
+a waahoo. The name waahoo appears to be more familiarly associated with
+a shrub called burning-bush, also a Pacific coast berry, and again a
+small tree of the South called winged elm. When this name is mentioned
+to a fisherman he is apt to think only fun is intended. To be sure, I
+thought so.
+
+In February, 1915, I met Judge Shields at Long Key, and, remembering his
+capture of this strange fish some years previous, I questioned him. He
+was singularly enthusiastic about the waahoo, and what he said excited
+my curiosity. Either the genial judge was obsessed or else this waahoo
+was a great fish. I was inclined to believe both, and then I forgot all
+about the matter.
+
+This year at Long Key I was trolling for sailfish out in the Gulf
+Stream, a mile or so southeast of Tennessee Buoy. It was a fine day for
+fishing, there being a slight breeze and a ripple on the water. My
+boatman, Captain Sam, and I kept a sharp watch on all sides for
+sailfish. I was using light tackle, and of course trolling, with the
+reel free running, except for my thumb.
+
+Suddenly I had a bewildering swift and hard strike. What a wonder that I
+kept the reel from over-running! I certainly can testify to the burn on
+my thumb.
+
+Sam yelled "Sailfish!" and stooped for the lever, awaiting my order to
+throw out the clutch.
+
+Then I yelled: "Stop the boat, Sam!... It's no sailfish!"
+
+That strike took six hundred feet of line quicker than any other I had
+ever experienced. I simply did not dare to throw on the drag. But the
+instant the speed slackened I did throw it on, and jerked to hook the
+fish. I felt no weight. The line went slack.
+
+"No good!" I called, and began to wind in.
+
+At that instant a fish savagely broke water abreast of the boat, about
+fifty yards out. He looked long, black, sharp-nosed. Sam saw him, too.
+Then I felt a heavy pull on my rod and the line began to slip out. I
+jerked and jerked, and felt that I had a fish hooked. The line appeared
+strained and slow, which I knew to be caused by a long and wide bag in
+it.
+
+"Sam," I yelled, "the fish that jumped is on my line!"
+
+"No," replied Sam.
+
+It did seem incredible. Sam figured that no fish could run astern for
+two hundred yards and then quick as a flash break water abreast of us.
+But I knew it was true. Then the line slackened just as it had before. I
+began to wind up swiftly.
+
+"He's gone," I said.
+
+Scarcely had I said that when a smashing break in the water on the other
+side of the boat alarmed and further excited me. I did not see the fish.
+But I jumped up and bent over the stern to shove my rod deep into the
+water back of the propeller. I did this despite the certainty that the
+fish had broken loose. It was a wise move, for the rod was nearly pulled
+out of my hands. I lifted it, bent double, and began to wind furiously.
+So intent was I on the job of getting up the slack line that I scarcely
+looked up from the reel.
+
+"Look at him yump!" yelled Sam.
+
+I looked, but not quickly enough.
+
+"Over here! Look at him yump!" went on Sam.
+
+That fish made me seem like an amateur. I could not do a thing with him.
+The drag was light, and when I reeled in some line the fish got most of
+it back again. Every second I expected him to get free for sure. It was
+a miracle he did not shake the hook, as he certainly had a loose rein
+most all the time. The fact was he had such speed that I was unable to
+keep a strain upon him. I had no idea what kind of a fish it was. And
+Sam likewise was nonplussed.
+
+I was not sure the fish tired quickly, for I was so excited I had no
+thought of time, but it did not seem very long before I had him within
+fifty yards, sweeping in wide half-circles back of the boat.
+Occasionally I saw a broad, bright-green flash. When I was sure he was
+slowing up I put on the other drag and drew him closer. Then in the
+clear water we saw a strange, wild, graceful fish, the like of which we
+had never beheld. He was long, slender, yet singularly round and
+muscular. His color appeared to be blue, green, silver crossed by bars.
+His tail was big like that of a tuna, and his head sharper, more wolfish
+than a barracuda. He had a long, low, straight dorsal fin. We watched
+him swimming slowly to and fro beside the boat, and we speculated upon
+his species. But all I could decide was that I had a rare specimen for
+my collection.
+
+Sam was just as averse to the use of the gaff as I was. I played the
+fish out completely before Sam grasped the leader, pulled him close,
+lifted him in, and laid him down--a glistening, quivering, wonderful
+fish nearly six feet long.
+
+He was black opal blue; iridescent silver underneath; pale blue dorsal;
+dark-blue fins and copper-bronze tail, with bright bars down his body.
+
+I took this thirty-six pound fish to be a sea-roe, a game fish lately
+noticed on the Atlantic seaboard. But I was wrong. One old conch
+fisherman who had been around the Keys for forty years had never seen
+such a fish. Then Mr. Schutt came and congratulated me upon landing a
+waahoo.
+
+The catching of this specimen interested me to inquire when I could, and
+find out for myself, more about this rare fish.
+
+Natives round Key West sometimes take it in nets and with the grains,
+and they call it "springer." It is well known in the West Indies, where
+it bears the name "queenfish." After studying this waahoo there were
+boatmen and fishermen at Long Key who believed they had seen schools of
+them. Mr. Schutt had observed schools of them on the reef, low down near
+the coral--fish that would run from forty to one hundred pounds. It made
+me thrill just to think of hooking a waahoo weighing anywhere near a
+hundred pounds. Mr. Shannon testified that he had once observed a school
+of waahoo leaping in the Gulf Stream--all very large fish. And once, on
+a clear, still day, I drifted over a bunch of big, sharp-nosed,
+game-looking fish that I am sure belonged to this species.
+
+The waahoo seldom, almost never, is hooked by a fisherman. This fact
+makes me curious. All fish have to eat, and at least two waahoo have
+been caught. Why not more? I do not believe that it is just a new fish.
+I see Palm Beach notices printed to the effect that sailfish were never
+heard of there before the Russo-Japanese War, and that the explosions of
+floating mines drove them from their old haunts. I do not take stock in
+such theory as that. As a matter of fact, Holder observed the sailfish
+(_Histiophorus_) in the Gulf Stream off the Keys many years ago.
+Likewise the waahoo must always have been there, absent perhaps in
+varying seasons. It is fascinating to ponder over tackle and bait and
+cunning calculated to take this rare denizen of the Gulf Stream.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+During half a dozen sojourns at Long Key I had heard of two or three
+dolphin being caught by lucky anglers who were trolling for anything
+that would bite. But until 1916 I never saw a dolphin. Certainly I never
+hoped to take one of these rare and beautiful deep-sea fish. Never would
+have the luck. But in February I took two, and now I am forbidden the
+peculiar pleasure of disclaiming my fisherman's luck.
+
+Dolphin seems a singularly attractive name. It always made me think of
+the deep blue sea, of old tars, and tall-sparred, white-sailed brigs. It
+is the name of a fish beloved of all sailors. I do not know why, but I
+suspect that it is because the dolphin haunts ships and is an omen of
+good luck, and probably the most exquisitely colored fish in the ocean.
+
+One day, two miles out in the Gulf Stream, I got a peculiar strike,
+quite unlike any I had ever felt. A fisherman grows to be a specialist
+in strikes. This one was quick, energetic, jerky, yet strong. And it was
+a hungry strike. A fish that is hungry can almost always be hooked. I
+let this one run a little and then hooked him. He felt light, but
+savage. He took line in short, zigzag rushes. I fancied it was a bonita,
+but Sam shook his head. With about a hundred yards of line out, the fish
+leaped. He was golden. He had a huge, blunt, bow-shaped head and a
+narrow tail. The distance was pretty far, and I had no certainty to go
+by, yet I yelled:
+
+"Dolphin!"
+
+Sam was not so sure, but he looked mighty hopeful. The fish sounded and
+ran in on me, then darted here and there, then began to leap and thresh
+upon the surface. He was hard to lead--a very strong fish for his light
+weight. I never handled a fish more carefully. He came up on a low
+swell, heading toward us, and he cut the water for fifty feet, with only
+his dorsal, a gleam of gold, showing in the sunlight.
+
+Next he jumped five times, and I could hear the wrestling sound he made
+when he shook himself. I had no idea what he might do next, and if he
+had not been securely hooked would have gotten off. I tried hard to keep
+the line taut and was not always successful. Like the waahoo, he
+performed tricks new to me. One was an awkward diving leap that somehow
+jerked the line in a way to alarm me. When he quit his tumbling and
+rushing I led him close to the boat.
+
+This has always been to me one of the rewards of fishing. It quite
+outweighs that doubtful moment for me when the fish lies in the boat or
+helpless on the moss. Then I am always sorry, and more often than not
+let the fish go alive.
+
+My first sight of a dolphin near at hand was one to remember. The fish
+flashed gold--deep rich gold--with little flecks of blue and white. Then
+the very next flash there were greens and yellows--changing, colorful,
+brilliant bars. In that background of dark, clear, blue Gulf Stream
+water this dolphin was radiant, golden, exquisitely beautiful. It was a
+shame to lift him out of the water. But--
+
+The appearance of the dolphin when just out of the water beggars
+description. Very few anglers in the world have ever had this
+experience. Not many anglers, perhaps, care for the beauty of a fish.
+But I do. And for the sake of those who feel the same way I wish I could
+paint him. But that seems impossible. For even while I gazed the fish
+changed color. He should have been called the chameleon of the ocean. He
+looked a quivering, shimmering, changeful creature, the color of
+golden-rod. He was the personification of beautiful color alive. The
+fact that he was dying made the changing hues. It gave me a pang--that I
+should be the cause of the death of so beautiful a thing.
+
+If I caught his appearance for one fleeting instant here it is: Vivid
+green-gold, spotted in brilliant blue, and each blue spot was a circle
+inclosing white. The long dorsal extending from nose to tail seemed
+black and purple near the head, shading toward the tail to rich olive
+green with splashes of blue. Just below the dorsal, on the background of
+gold, was a line of black dots. The fins were pearly silver beneath, and
+dark green above. All the upper body was gold shading to silver, and
+this silver held exquisite turquoise-blue spots surrounded with white
+rings, in strange contrast to those ringed dots above. There was even a
+suggestion of pink glints. And the eyes were a deep purple with gold
+iris.
+
+The beauty of the dolphin resembled the mystery of the Gulf Stream--too
+illusive for the eye of man.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+More than once some benighted angler had mentioned bonefish to me. These
+individuals always appeared to be quiet, retiring fishermen who
+hesitated to enlarge upon what was manifestly close to their hearts. I
+had never paid any attention to them. Who ever heard of a bonefish,
+anyway? The name itself did not appeal to my euphonious ear.
+
+But on this 1916 trip some faint glimmering must have penetrated the
+density of my cranium. I had always prided myself upon my conviction
+that I did not know it all, but, just the same, I had looked down from
+my lofty height of tuna and swordfish rather to despise little
+salt-water fish that could not pull me out of the boat. The waahoo and
+the dolphin had opened my eyes. When some mild, quiet, soft-voiced
+gentleman said bonefish to me again I listened. Not only did I listen, I
+grew interested. Then I saw a couple of bonefish. They shone like
+silver, were singularly graceful in build, felt heavy as lead, and
+looked game all over. I made the mental observation that the man who had
+named them bonefish should have had half of that name applied to his
+head.
+
+After that I was more interested in bonefish. I never failed to ask
+questions. But bonefishermen were scarce and as reticent as scarce. To
+sum up all of my inquiries, I learned or heard a lot that left me
+completely bewildered, so that I had no idea whether a bonefish was a
+joke or the grandest fish that swims. I deducted from the amazing
+information that if a fisherman sat all day in the blazing sun and had
+the genius to discover when he had a bite he was learning. No one
+ever caught bonefish without days and days of learning. Then there were
+incidents calculated to disturb the peace of a contemplative angler like
+myself.
+
+ [Illustration: AT LONG KEY, THE LONELY CORAL SHORE WHERE THE SUN
+ SHINES WHITE ALL DAY AND THE STARS SHINE WHITE ALL NIGHT]
+
+ [Illustration: THE FAMOUS STUNT OF A MARLIN SWORDFISH, "WALKING ON
+ HIS TAIL"]
+
+One man with heavy tackle yanked some bonefish out of the tide right in
+front of my cabin, quite as I used to haul out suckers. Other men tried
+it for days without success, though it appeared bonefish were passing
+every tide. Then there was a loquacious boatman named Jimmy, who, when
+he had spare time, was always fishing for bonefish. He would tell the
+most remarkable tales about these fish. So finally I drifted to that
+fatal pass where I decided I wanted to catch bonefish. I imagined it
+would be easy for me. So did Captain Sam. Alas! the vanity of man!
+
+Forthwith Captain Sam and I started out to catch soldier-crabs for bait.
+The directions we got from conch fishermen and others led us to assume
+that it would be an easy matter to find crabs. It was not! We had to go
+poking round mangrove roots until we learned how to catch the soldiers.
+If this had not been fun for me it would have been hard work. But ever
+since I was a little tad I have loved to chase things in the water. And
+upon this occasion it was with great satisfaction that I caught more
+bait than Captain Sam. Sam is something of a naturalist and he was
+always spending time over a curious bug or shell or object he found.
+Eventually we collected a bucketful of soldier-crabs.
+
+Next day, about the last of the ebb-tide, we tied a skiff astern and
+went up the Key to a cove where there were wide flats. While working our
+way inshore over the shoals we hit bottom several times and finally
+went aground. This did not worry us, for we believed the rising tide
+would float us.
+
+Then we got in the skiff and rowed toward the flats. I was rather
+concerned to see that apparently the tide was just about as high along
+this shore as it ever got. Sam shook his head. The tides were strange
+around the Keys. It will be high on the Gulf side and low on the
+Atlantic side, and sometimes it will run one way through the channels
+for thirty-six hours. But we forgot this as soon as we reached the
+bonefish shoals.
+
+Sam took an oar and slowly poled inshore, while I stood up on a seat to
+watch for fish. The water was from six to eighteen inches deep and very
+clear and still. The bottom appeared to be a soft mud, gray, almost
+white in color, with patches of dark grass here and there. It was really
+marl, which is dead and decayed coral.
+
+Scarcely had we gotten over the edge of this shoal when we began to see
+things--big blue crabs, the kind that can pinch and that play havoc with
+the fishermen's nets, and impudent little gray crabs, and needle-fish,
+and small chocolate-colored sharks--nurse sharks, Sam called them--and
+barracuda from one foot to five feet in length, and whip-rays and
+sting-rays. It was exceedingly interesting and surprising to see all
+these in such shallow water. And they were all tame.
+
+Here and there we saw little boils of the water, and then a muddy patch
+where some fish had stirred the marl. Sam and I concluded these were
+made by bonefish. Still, we could not be sure. I can see a fish a long
+way in the water and I surely was alert. But some time elapsed and we
+had poled to within a few rods of the mangroves before I really caught
+sight of our coveted quarry. Then I saw five bonefish, two of them
+large, between the boat and the mangroves. They were motionless. Somehow
+the sight of them was thrilling. They looked wary, cunning, game, and
+reminded me of gray wolves I had seen on the desert. Suddenly they
+vanished. It was incredible the way they disappeared. When we got up to
+the place where they had been there were the little swirls in the roiled
+water.
+
+Then Sam sighted two more bonefish that flashed away too swiftly for me
+to see. We stuck an oar down in the mud and anchored the boat. It seemed
+absolutely silly to fish in water a foot deep. But I meant to try it.
+Putting a crab on my hook, I cast off ten or a dozen yards, and composed
+myself to rest and watch.
+
+Certainly I expected no results. But it was attractive there. The wide
+flat stretched away, bordered by the rich, dark mangroves. Cranes and
+pelicans were fishing off the shoals, and outside rippled the green
+channel, and beyond that the dark-blue sea. The sun shone hot. There was
+scarcely any perceptible breeze. All this would have been enjoyable and
+fruitful if there had not been a fish within a mile.
+
+Almost directly I felt a very faint vibration of my line. I waited,
+expectantly, thinking that I might be about to have a bite. But the line
+slackened and nothing happened.
+
+There were splashes all around us and waves and ripples here and there,
+and occasionally a sounding thump. We grew more alert and interested.
+Sam saw a bonefish right near the boat. He pointed, and the fish was
+gone. After that we sat very still, I, of course, expecting a bite every
+moment. Presently I saw a bonefish not six feet from the boat. Where he
+came from was a mystery, but he appeared like magic, and suddenly, just
+as magically, he vanished.
+
+"Funny fish," observed Sam, thoughtfully. Something had begun to dawn
+upon Sam, as it had upon me.
+
+No very long time elapsed before we had seen a dozen bonefish, any one
+of which I could have reached with my rod. But not a bite! I reeled in
+to find my bait gone.
+
+"That bait was eaten off by crabs," I said to Sam, as I put on another.
+
+Right away after my cast I felt, rather than saw, that slight vibration
+of my line. I waited as before, and just as before the line almost
+imperceptibly slackened and nothing happened.
+
+Presently I did see a blue crab deliberately cut my line. We had to move
+the boat, pick up the lost piece of line, and knot it to the other. Then
+I watched a blue crab tear off my bait. But I failed to feel or see that
+faint vibration of my line. We moved the boat again, and again my line
+was cut. These blue crabs were a nuisance. Sam moved the boat again. We
+worked up the flat nearer where the little mangroves, scarce a foot
+high, lifted a few leaves out of the water. Whenever I stood up I saw
+bonefish, and everywhere we could hear them. Once more we composed
+ourselves to watch and await developments.
+
+ [Illustration: SURGING IN A HALF-CIRCLE]
+
+ [Illustration: BROADBILL SWORDFISH ON THE SURFACE--THE MOST THRILLING
+ SIGHT TO A SEA ANGLER]
+
+In the succeeding hour I had many of the peculiar vibrations of my line,
+and, strange to see, every time I reeled in, part of my bait or all of
+it was gone. Still I fished on patiently for a bonefish bite.
+
+Meanwhile the sun lost its heat, slowly slanted to the horizon of
+mangroves, and turned red. It was about the hour of sunset and it turned
+out to be a beautiful and memorable one. Not a breath of air stirred.
+There was no sound except the screech of a gull and the distant splashes
+of wading birds. I had not before experienced silence on or near salt
+water. The whole experience was new. We remarked that the tide had not
+seemed to rise any higher. Everywhere were little swells, little waves,
+little wakes, all made by bonefish. The sun sank red and gold, and all
+the wide flat seemed on fire, with little mangroves standing clear and
+dark against the ruddy glow. And about this time the strangest thing
+happened. It might have been going on before, but Sam and I had not seen
+it. All around us were bonefish tails lifted out of the water. They
+glistened like silver. When a bonefish feeds his head is down and his
+tail is up, and, the water being shallow, the upper fluke of his tail
+stands out. If I saw one I saw a thousand. It was particularly easy to
+see them in the glassy water toward the sunset.
+
+A school of feeding bonefish came toward us. I counted eleven tails out
+of the water. They were around my bait. Now or never, I thought, waiting
+frantically! But they went on feeding--passed over my line--and came so
+near the boat that I could plainly see the gray shadow shapes, the
+long, sharp noses, the dark, staring eyes. I reeled in to find my bait
+gone, as usual. It was exasperating.
+
+We had to give up then, as darkness was not far off. Sam was worried
+about the boat. He rowed while I stood up. Going back, I saw bonefish in
+twos and fours and droves. We passed school after school. They had just
+come in from the sea, for they were headed up the flat. I saw many
+ten-pound fish, but I did not know enough about bonefish then to
+appreciate what I saw. However, I did appreciate their keen sight and
+wariness and wonderful speed and incredible power. Some of the big
+surges made me speculate what a heavy bonefish might do to light tackle.
+Sam and I were disappointed at our luck, somewhat uncertain whether it
+was caused by destructive work of crabs or the wrong kind of bait or
+both. It scarcely occurred to us to inquire into our ignorance.
+
+We found the boat hard and fast in the mud. Sam rowed me ashore. I
+walked back to camp, and he stayed all night, and all the next day,
+waiting for the tide to float the boat.
+
+After that on several days we went up to the flat to fish for bonefish.
+But we could not hit the right tide or the fish were not there. At any
+rate, we did not see any or get any bites.
+
+Then I began to fish for bonefish in front of my cottage. Whenever I
+would stick my rod in the sand and go in out of the hot sun a bonefish
+would take my bait and start off to sea. Before I could get back he
+would break something.
+
+This happened several times before I became so aroused that I
+determined to catch one of these fish or die. I fished and fished. I
+went to sleep in a camp-chair and absolutely ruined my reputation as an
+ardent fisherman. One afternoon, just after I had made a cast, I felt
+the same old strange vibration of my line. I was not proof against it
+and I jerked. Lo! I hooked a fish that made a savage rush, pulled my
+bass-rod out of shape, and took all my line before I could stop him.
+Then he swept from side to side. I reeled him in, only to have him run
+out again and again and yet again. I knew I had a heavy fish. I expected
+him to break my line. I handled him gingerly. Imagine my amaze to beach
+a little fish that weighed scarcely more than two pounds! But it was a
+bonefish--a glistening mother-of-pearl bonefish. Somehow the obsession
+of these bonefishermen began to be less puzzling to me. Sam saw me catch
+this bonefish, and he was as amazed as I was at the gameness and speed
+and strength of so small a fish.
+
+Next day a bonefisherman of years' experience answered a few questions I
+put to him. No, he never fished for anything except bonefish. They were
+the hardest fish in the sea to make bite, the hardest to land after they
+were hooked. Yes, that very, very slight vibration of the line--that
+strange feeling rather than movement--was the instant of their quick
+bite. An instant before or an instant after would be fatal.
+
+It dawned upon me then that on my first day I must have had dozens of
+bonefish bites, but I did not know it! I was humiliated--I was taken
+down from my lofty perch--I was furious. I thanked the gentleman for
+his enlightenment and went away in search of Sam. I told Sam, and he
+laughed--laughed at me and at himself. After all, it was a joke. And I
+had to laugh too. It is good for a fisherman to have the conceit taken
+out of him--if anything can accomplish that. Then Sam and I got our
+heads together. What we planned and what we did must make another story.
+
+
+
+
+IX
+
+SWORDFISH
+
+          _From records of the New York Bureau of Fisheries,
+                         by G. B. Goode_
+
+
+The swordfish, _Xiphias gladius_, ranges along the Atlantic coast of
+America from Jamaica (latitude 18� N.), Cuba, and the Bermudas, to Cape
+Breton (latitude 47� N.). It has not been seen at Greenland, Iceland, or
+Spitzbergen, but occurs, according to Collett, at the North Cape
+(latitude 71�). It is abundant along the coasts of western Europe,
+entering the Baltic and the Mediterranean. I can find no record of the
+species on the west coast of Africa south of Cape Verde, though Lutken,
+who may have access to facts unknown to me, states that they occur clear
+down to the Cape of Good Hope, South Atlantic in mid-ocean, to the west
+coast of South America and to southern California (latitude 34�), New
+Zealand, and in the Indian Ocean off Mauritius.
+
+The names of the swordfish all have reference to that prominent feature,
+the prolonged snout. The "swordfish" of our own tongue, the "zwardfis"
+of the Hollander, the Italian "sofia" and "pesce-spada," the Spanish
+"espada" and "espadarte," varied by "pez do spada" in Cuba, and the
+French "espadon," "dard," and "epee de mer," are simply variations of
+one theme, repetitions of the "gladius" of ancient Italy and "xiphius,"
+the name by which Aristotle, the father of zoology, called the same fish
+twenty-three hundred years ago. The French "empereur" and the
+"imperador" and the "ocean kingfish" of the Spanish and French West
+Indies, carry out the same idea, for the Roman Emperor was always
+represented holding a drawn sword in his hand. The Portuguese names are
+"aguhao," meaning "needle," or "needle-fish."
+
+This species has been particularly fortunate in escaping the numerous
+redescriptions to which almost all widely distributed forms have been
+subjected. By the writers of antiquity it was spoken of under its
+Aristotelian name, and in the tenth edition of his _Systema Natur�_, at
+the very inception of binomial nomenclative, Linnaeus called it _Xiphias
+gladius_. By this name it has been known ever since, and only one
+additional name is included in its synonym, _Xiphias rondeletic_ of
+Leach.
+
+The swordfish has been so long and so well known that its right to its
+peculiar name has seldom been infringed upon. The various species of
+_Tetrapturus_ have sometimes shared its title, and this is not to be
+wondered at, since they closely resemble _Xiphias gladius_, and the
+appellative has frequently been applied to the family _Xiphiid�_--the
+swordfish--which includes them all.
+
+The name "bill-fish," usually applied to our _Tetrapturus albidus_, a
+fish of the swordfish family, often taken on our coast, must be
+pronounced objectionable, since it is in many districts used for
+various species of Belonid�, the garfishes or green-bones (_Belone
+truncata_ and others), which are members of the same faunas. Spear-fish
+is a much better name.
+
+The "sailfish," _Histiophorus americanus_, is called by sailors in the
+South the "boohoo" or "woohoo." This is evidently a corrupted form of
+"guebum," a name, apparently of Indian origin, given to the same fish in
+Brazil. It is possible that _Tetrapturus_ is also called "boohoo," since
+the two genera are not sufficiently unlike to impress sailors with their
+differences. Blecker states that in Sumatra the Malays call the related
+species, _H. gladius_, by the name "Joohoo" (Juhu), a curious
+coincidence. The names may have been carried from the Malay Archipelago
+to South America, or _vice versa_, by mariners.
+
+In Cuba the spear-fish are called "aguja" and "aguja de palada"; the
+sailfish, "aguja prieta" or "aguja valadora"; _Tetrapturus albidus_
+especially known as the "aguja blanca," _T. albidus_ as the "aguja de
+castro."
+
+In the West Indies and Florida the scabbard-fish or silvery hairy-tail,
+_Trichiurus lepturus_, a form allied to the _Xiphias_, though not
+resembling it closely in external appearance, is often called
+"swordfish." The body of this fish is shaped like the blade of a saber,
+and its skin has a bright, metallic luster like that of polished steel,
+hence the name.
+
+Swordfish are most abundant on the shoals near the shore and on the
+banks during the months of July and August; that they make their
+appearance on the frequented cruising-grounds between Montauk Point and
+the eastern part of Georges Banks sometime between the 25th of May and
+the 20th of June, and that they remain until the approach of cold
+weather in October and November. The dates of the first fish on the
+cruising-grounds referred to are recorded for three years, and are
+reasonably reliable: in 1875, June 20th; in 1877, June 10th; in 1878,
+June 14th.
+
+South of the cruising-grounds the dates of arrival and departure are
+doubtless farther apart, the season being shorter north and east. There
+are no means of obtaining information, since the men engaged in this
+fishery are the only ones likely to remember the dates when the fish are
+seen.
+
+The swordfish comes into our waters in pursuit of its food. At least
+this is the most probable explanation of its movements, since the duties
+of reproduction appear to be performed elsewhere. Like the tuna, the
+bluefish, the bonito, and the squiteague, they pursue and prey upon the
+schools of menhaden and mackerel, which are so abundant in the summer
+months. "When you see swordfish, you may know that mackerel are about,"
+said an old fisherman to me. "When you see the fin-back whale following
+food, there you may find swordfish," said another. The swordfish also
+feeds upon squid, which are at times abundant on our banks.
+
+To what extent this fish is amenable to the influences of temperature is
+an unsolved problem. We are met at the outset by the fact that they are
+frequently taken on trawl lines which are set at the depth of one
+hundred fathoms or more, on the offshore banks. We know that the
+temperature of the water in these localities and at that depth is sure
+to be less than 40� Fahr. How is this fact to be reconciled with the
+known habits of the fish, that it prefers the warmest weather of summer
+and swims at the surface in water of temperature ranging from 55� to
+70�, sinking when cool winds blow below? The case seemed clear enough
+until the inconvenient discovery was made that swordfish are taken on
+bottom trawl lines. In other respects their habits agree closely with
+those of the mackerel tribe, all the members of which seem sensitive to
+slight changes in temperature, and which, as a rule, prefer temperature
+in the neighborhood of 50� or more.
+
+ [Illustration: SHINING IN THE SUNLIGHT]
+
+ [Illustration: THROWING WHITE WATER LIKE THE EXPLOSION OF A TORPEDO]
+
+The appearance of the fish at the surface depends largely upon the
+temperature. They are seen only upon quiet summer days, in the morning
+before ten or eleven o'clock, and in the afternoon about four o'clock.
+Old fishermen say that they rise when the mackerel rise, and when the
+mackerel go down they go down also.
+
+Regarding the winter abode of the swordfish, conjecture is useless. I
+have already discussed this question at length with reference to the
+menhaden and mackerel. With the swordfish the conditions are very
+different. The former are known to spawn in our waters, and the schools
+of young ones follow the old ones in toward the shores. The latter do
+not spawn in our waters. We cannot well believe that they hibernate, nor
+is the hypothesis of a sojourn in the middle strata of mid-ocean exactly
+tenable. Perhaps they migrate to some distant region, where they spawn.
+But then the spawning-time of this species in the Mediterranean, as is
+related in a subsequent paragraph, appears to occur in the summer
+months, at the very time when the swordfish are most abundant in our own
+waters, apparently feeling no responsibility for the perpetuation of
+their species.
+
+The swordfish, when swimming at the surface, usually allows its dorsal
+fin and the upper lobe of its caudal fin to be visible, projecting out
+of the water. It is this habit which enables the fisherman to detect the
+presence of the fish. It swims slowly along, and the fishing-schooner
+with a light breeze finds no difficulty in overtaking it. When excited
+its motions are very rapid and nervous. Swordfish are sometimes seen to
+leap entirely out of the water. Early writers attributed this habit to
+the tormenting presence of parasites, but this theory seems hardly
+necessary, knowing what we do of its violent exertions at other times.
+The pointed head, the fins of the back and abdomen snugly fitting into
+grooves, the absence of ventrals, the long, lithe, muscular body,
+sloping slowly to the tail, fits it for the most rapid and forceful
+movement through the water. Prof. Richard Owen, testifying in an England
+court in regard to its power, said:
+
+    "It strikes with the accumulated force of fifteen
+    double-handed hammers. Its velocity is equal to that of a
+    swivel shot, and is as dangerous in its effect as a heavy
+    artillery projectile."
+
+Many very curious instances are on record of the encounter of this fish
+with other fishes, or of their attacks upon ships. What can be the
+inducement for it to attack objects so much larger than itself is hard
+to surmise. We are all familiar with the couplet from Oppian:
+
+     Nature her bounty to his mouth confined,
+     Gave him a sword, but left unarmed his mind.
+
+It surely seems as if temporary insanity sometimes takes possession of
+the fish. It is not strange that when harpooned it should retaliate by
+attacking its assailant. An old swordfisherman told Mr. Blackman that
+his vessel had been struck twenty times. There are, however, many
+instances of entirely unprovoked assaults on vessels at sea. Many of
+these are recounted in a later portion of this memoir. Their movements
+when feeding are discussed below as well as their alleged peculiarities
+of movement during breeding season.
+
+It is the universal testimony of our fishermen that two are never seen
+swimming close together. Captain Ashby says that they are always distant
+from each other at least thirty or forty feet.
+
+The pugnacity of the swordfish has become a byword. Without any special
+effort on my part, numerous instances of their attacks upon vessels have
+in the last ten years found their way into the pigeonhole labeled
+"Swordfish."
+
+�lian says (b. XXXII, c. 6) that the swordfish has a sharp-pointed snout
+with which it is able to pierce the sides of a ship and send it to the
+bottom, instances of which have been known near a place in Mauritania
+known as Cotte, not far from the river Sixus, on the African side of the
+Mediterranean. He describes the sword as like the beak of the ship
+known as the trireme, which was rowed with three banks of oars.
+
+The _London Daily News_ of December 11, 1868, contained the following
+paragraph, which emanated, I suspect, from the pen of Prof. R. A.
+Proctor.
+
+     Last Wednesday the court of common pleas--rather a strange place,
+     by the by, for inquiring into the natural history of fishes--was
+     engaged for several hours in trying to determine under what
+     circumstances a swordfish might be able to escape scot-free after
+     thrusting his snout into the side of a ship. The gallant ship
+     _Dreadnought_, thoroughly repaired and classed A1 at Lloyd's, had
+     been insured for �3,000 against all risks of the sea. She sailed on
+     March 10, 1864, from Columbo for London. Three days later the crew,
+     while fishing, hooked a swordfish. Xiphias, however, broke the
+     line, and a few moments after leaped half out of the water, with
+     the object, it should seem, of taking a look at his persecutor, the
+     _Dreadnaught_. Probably he satisfied himself that the enemy was
+     some abnormally large cetacean, which it was his natural duty to
+     attack forthwith. Be this as it may, the attack was made, and the
+     next morning the captain was awakened with the unwelcome
+     intelligence that the ship had sprung a leak. She was taken back to
+     Columbo, and thence to Cochin, where she hove down. Near the keel
+     was found a round hole, an inch in diameter, running completely
+     through the copper sheathing and planking.
+
+     As attacks by swordfish are included among sea risks, the insurance
+     company was willing to pay the damages claimed by the owners of the
+     ship, if only it could be proved that the hole had been really made
+     by aswordfish. No instances had ever been recorded in which a
+     swordfish which had passed its beak through three inches of stout
+     planking could withdraw without the loss of its sword. Mr. Buckland
+     said that fish have no power of "backing," and expressed his belief
+     that he could hold a swordfish by the beak; but then he admitted
+     that the fish had considerable lateral power, and might so "wriggle
+     its sword out of the hold." And so the insurance company will have
+     to pay nearly �600 because an ill-tempered fish objected to be
+     hooked and took its revenge by running full tilt against copper
+     sheathing and oak planking.
+
+ [Illustration: A LONG, SLIM SAILFISH WIGGLING IN THE AIR]
+
+ [Illustration: FIGHTING A BROADBILL SWORDFISH]
+
+The food of the swordfish is of a very mixed nature.
+
+Doctor Fleming found the remains of sepias in its stomach, and also
+small fishes. Oppian stated that it eagerly devours the _Hippuris_
+(probably _Coryph�na_). A specimen taken off Saconnet July 22, 1875, had
+in its stomach the remains of small fish, perhaps _Stromateus
+triacanthus_, and jaws of a squid, perhaps _Loligo pealin_. Their food
+in the western Atlantic consists for the most part of the common
+schooling species of fishes. They feed on menhaden, mackerel, bonitoes,
+bluefish, and other species which swim in close schools. Their habits of
+feeding have often been described to me by old fishermen. They are said
+to rise beneath the school of small fish, striking to the right and left
+with their swords until they have killed a number, which they then
+proceed to devour. Menhaden have been seen floating at the surface which
+have been cut nearly in twain by a blow of a sword. Mr. John H. Thompson
+remarks that he has seen them apparently throw the fish in the air,
+catching them on the fall.
+
+Capt. Benjamin Ashby says that they feed on mackerel, herring, whiting,
+and menhaden. He has found half a bucketful of small fish of these kind
+in the stomach of one swordfish. He has seen them in the act of feeding.
+They rise perpendicularly out of the water until the sword and
+two-thirds of the remainder of the body are exposed to view. He has seen
+a school of herring at the surface on Georges Banks as closely as they
+could be packed. A swordfish came up through the dense mass and fell
+flat on its side, striking many fish with the sides of its sword. He has
+at one time picked up as much as a bushel of herrings thus killed by a
+swordfish on Georges Banks.
+
+But little is known regarding their time and place of breeding. They are
+said to deposit their eggs in large quantities on the coasts of Sicily,
+and European writers give their spawning-time occurring the latter part
+of spring and the beginning of summer. In the Mediterranean they occur
+of all sizes from four hundred pounds down, and the young are so
+plentiful as to become a common article of food.
+
+M. Raymond, who brought to Cuvier a specimen of aistiophorn four inches
+long, taken in January, 1829, in the Atlantic, between the Cape of Good
+Hope and France, reported that there were good numbers of young sailfish
+in the place where this was taken.
+
+Meunier, quoting Spollongain, states that the swordfish does not
+approach the coast of Sicily except in the season of reproduction; the
+males are then seen pursuing the females. It is a good time to capture
+them, for when the female has been taken the male lingers near and is
+easily approached. The fish are abundant in the Straits of Messina from
+the middle of April to the middle of September; early in the season they
+hug the Calabrian shore, approaching from the north; after the end of
+June they are most abundant on the Sicilian shore, approaching from the
+south.
+
+From other circumstances, it seems certain that there are
+spawning-grounds in the seas near Sicily and Genoa, for from November
+to the 1st of March young ones are taken in the Straits of Messina,
+ranging in weight from half a pound to twelve pounds.
+
+In the Mediterranean, as has been already stated, the young fish are
+found from November to March, and here from July to the middle of
+September the male fish are seen pursuing the female over the shoals,
+and at this time the males are easily taken. Old swordfish fishermen,
+Captain Ashby and Captain Kirby, assure me that on our coast, out of
+thousands of specimens they have taken, they have never seen one
+containing eggs. I have myself dissected several males, none of which
+were near breeding-time. In the European waters they are said often to
+be seen swimming in pairs, male and female. Many sentimental stories
+were current, especially among the old writers, concerning the conjugal
+affection and unselfish devotion of the swordfish, but they seem to have
+originated in the imaginative brain of the naturalist rather than in his
+perceptive faculties. It is said that when the female fish is taken the
+male seems devoid of fear, approaches the boat, and allows himself
+easily to be taken, but if this be true, it appears to be the case only
+in the height of the breeding season, and is easily understood. I cannot
+learn that two swordfish have ever been seen associated together in our
+waters, though I have made frequent and diligent inquiry.
+
+There is no inherent improbability, however, in this story regarding the
+swordfish in Europe, for the same thing is stated by Professor Poey as
+the result upon the habits of _Tetrapturus_.
+
+The only individual of which we have the exact measurements was taken
+off Saconnet, Rhode Island, July 23, 1874. This was seven feet seven
+inches long, weighing one hundred and thirteen pounds. Another, taken
+off No Man's Land, July 20, 1875, and cast in plaster for the collection
+of the National Museum, weighed one hundred and twenty pounds and
+measured about seven feet. Another, taken off Portland, August 15, 1878,
+was 3,999 millimeters long and weighed about six hundred pounds. Many of
+these fish doubtless attain the weight of four and five hundred pounds,
+and some perhaps grow to six hundred; but after this limit is reached, I
+am inclined to believe larger fish are exceptional. Newspapers are fond
+of recording the occurrence of giant fish, weighing one thousand pounds
+and upward, and old sailors will in good faith describe the enormous
+fish which they saw at sea, but could not capture; but one
+well-authenticated instance of accurate weighing is much more valuable.
+The largest one ever taken by Capt. Benjamin Ashby, for twenty years a
+swordfish fisherman, was killed on the shoals back of Edgartown,
+Massachusetts. When salted it weighed six hundred and thirty-nine
+pounds. Its live weight must have been as much as seven hundred and
+fifty or eight hundred. Its sword measured nearly six feet. This was an
+extraordinary fish among the three hundred or more taken by Captain
+Ashby in his long experience. He considers the average size to be about
+two hundred and fifty pounds dressed, or five hundred and twenty-five
+alive. Captain Martin, of Gloucester, estimated the average size at
+three to four hundred pounds. The largest known to Captain Michaux
+weighed six hundred and twenty-eight. The average about Block Island he
+considers to be two hundred pounds.
+
+The size of the smallest swordfish taken on our eastern coast is a
+subject of much deeper interest, for it throws light on the time and
+place of breeding. There is some difference of testimony regarding the
+average size, but all fishermen with whom I have talked agree that very
+small ones do not find their way into our shore waters. Numerous very
+small specimens have, however, been already taken by the Fish Commission
+at sea, off our middle and southern coast.
+
+Capt. John Rowe has seen one which did not weigh more than seventy-five
+pounds when taken out of the water.
+
+Capt. R. H. Hurlbert killed near Block Island, in July, 1877, one which
+weighed fifty pounds and measured about two feet without its sword.
+
+Captain Ashby's smallest weighed about twenty-five pounds when dressed;
+this he killed off No Man's Land. He tells me that a Bridgeport smack
+had one weighing sixteen pounds (or probably twenty-four when alive),
+and measuring eighteen inches without its sword.
+
+In August, 1878, a small specimen of the mackerel-shark, _Lamna
+cornubica_, was captured at the mouth of Gloucester Harbor. In its
+nostril was sticking a sword, about three inches long, of a young
+swordfish. When this was pulled out the blood flowed freely, indicating
+that the wound was recent. The fish to which this sword belonged cannot
+have exceeded ten or twelve inches in length. Whether the small
+swordfish met with its misfortune in our waters, or whether the shark
+brought this trophy from beyond the sea, is an unsolved problem.
+
+Lutken speaks of a very young individual taken in the Atlantic, latitude
+32� 50' N., 74� 19' W. This must be about one hundred and fifty miles
+southeast of Cape Hatteras.
+
+For many years from three to six hundred of these fish have been taken
+annually on the New England coast. It is not unusual for twenty-five or
+more to be seen in the course of a single day's cruising, and sometimes
+as many as this are visible from the masthead at one time. Captain Ashby
+saw twenty at one time, in August, 1889, between Georges Banks and the
+South Shoals. One Gloucester schooner, _Midnight_, Capt. Alfred Wixom,
+took fourteen in one day on Georges Banks in 1877.
+
+Capt. John Rowe obtained twenty barrels, or four thousand pounds, of
+salt fish on one trip to Georges Banks; this amount represents twenty
+fish or more. Captain Ashby has killed one hundred and eight swordfish
+in one year; Capt. M. C. Tripp killed about ninety in 1874.
+
+Such instances as these indicate in a general way the abundance of the
+swordfish. A vessel cruising within fifty miles of our coast, between
+Cape May and Cape Sable, during the months of June, July, August, and
+September, cannot fail, on a favorable day, to come in sight of several
+of them. Mr. Earll states that the fishermen of Portland never knew them
+more abundant than in 1879. This is probably due in part to the fact
+that the fishery there is of a very recent origin.
+
+There is no evidence of any change in their abundance, either increase
+or decrease. Fishermen agree that they are as plentiful as ever, nor can
+any change be anticipated. The present mode does not destroy them in any
+considerable numbers, each individual fish being the object of special
+pursuit. The solitary habits of the species will always protect them
+from wholesale capture, so destructive to schooling fish. Even if this
+were not the case, the evidence proves that spawning swordfish do not
+frequent our waters. When a female shad is killed, thousands of possible
+young die also. The swordfish taken by our fishermen carry no such
+precious burden.
+
+"The small swordfish is very good meat," remarked Josselyn, in writing
+of the fishes of England in the seventeenth century. Since Josselyn
+probably never saw a young swordfish, unless at some time he had visited
+the Mediterranean, it is fair to suppose that his information was
+derived from some Italian writer.
+
+It is, however, a fact that the flesh of the swordfish, though somewhat
+oily, is a very acceptable article of food. Its texture is coarse; the
+thick, fleshy, muscular layers cause it to resemble that of the halibut
+in constituency. Its flavor is by many considered fine, and is not
+unlike that of the bluefish. Its color is gray. The meat of the young
+fish is highly prized on the Mediterranean, and is said to be perfectly
+white, compact, and of delicate flavor. Swordfish are usually cut up
+into steaks--thick slices across the body--and may be broiled or boiled.
+
+The apparatus ordinarily employed for the capture of the swordfish is
+simple in the extreme. It is the harpoon with the detachable head. When
+the fish is struck, the head of the harpoon remains in the body of the
+fish, and carries with it a light rope which is either made fast or held
+by a man in a small boat, or is attached to some kind of a buoy, which
+is towed through the water by the struggling fish, and which marks its
+whereabouts after death.
+
+The harpoon consists of a pole fifteen or sixteen feet in length,
+usually of hickory or some other hard wood, upon which the bark has been
+left, so that the harpooner may have a firmer hand-grip. This pole is
+from an inch and a half to two inches in diameter, and at one end is
+provided with an iron rod, or "shank," about two feet long and
+five-eighths of an inch in diameter. This "shank" is fastened to the
+pole by means of a conical or elongated, cuplike expansion at one end,
+which fits over the sharpened end of the pole, to which it is secured by
+screws or spikes. A light line extends from one end of the pole to the
+point where it joins the "shank" and in this line is tied a loop by
+which is made fast another short line which secures the pole to the
+vessel or boat, so that when it is thrown at the fish it cannot be lost.
+
+Upon the end of the "shank" fits the head of the harpoon, known by the
+names swordfish-iron, lily-iron, and Indian dart. The form of this
+weapon has undergone much variation. The fundamental idea may very
+possibly have been derived from the Indian fish-dart, numerous specimens
+of which are in the National Museum, from various tribes of Indians of
+New England, British America, and the Pacific. However various the
+modifications may have been, the similarity of the different shapes is
+no less noteworthy from the fact that all are peculiarly American. In
+the enormous collection of fishery implements of all lands at the late
+exhibition at Berlin, nothing of the kind could be found. What is known
+to whalers as a toggle-harpoon is a modification of the lily-iron, but
+so greatly changed by the addition of a pivot by which the head of the
+harpoon is fastened to the shank that it can hardly be regarded as the
+same weapon. The lily-iron is, in principle, exactly what a whaleman
+would describe by the word "toggle." It consists of a two-pointed piece
+of metal, having in the center, at one side, a ring or socket the axis
+of which is parallel with the long diameter of the implement. In this is
+inserted the end of the pole-shank, and to it or near it is also
+attached the harpoon-line. When the iron has once been thrust point
+first through some solid substance, such as the side of a fish, and is
+released upon the other side by the withdrawal of the pole from the
+socket, it is free, and at once turns its long axis at right angle to
+the direction in which the harpoon-line is pulling, and this is
+absolutely prevented from withdrawal. The principle of the whale harpoon
+or toggle-iron is similar, except that the pole is not withdrawn, and
+the head, turning upon a pivot at its end, fastens the pole itself
+securely to the fish, the harpoon-line being attached to some part of
+the pole. The swordfish lily-iron head, as now ordinarily used, is about
+four inches in length, and consists of two lanceolate blades, each about
+an inch and a half long, connected by a central piece much thicker than
+they, in which, upon one side, and next to the flat side of the blade,
+is the socket for the insertion of the pole-shank. In this same central
+enlargement is forged an opening to which the harpoon-line is attached.
+The dart-head is usually made of steel; sometimes of iron, which is
+generally galvanized; sometimes of brass.
+
+The entire weight of the harpoon--pole, shank, and head--should not
+exceed eighteen pounds.
+
+The harpoon-line is from fifty to one hundred and fifty fathoms long,
+and is ordinarily what is known as "fifteen-thread line." At the end is
+sometimes fastened a buoy, and an ordinary mackerel-keg is generally
+used for this purpose.
+
+In addition to the harpoon every swordfish fisherman carries a lance.
+This implement is precisely similar to a whaleman's lance, except that
+it is smaller, consisting of a lanceolate blade perhaps one inch wide
+and two inches long, upon the end of a shank of five-eighths-inch iron,
+perhaps two or three feet in length, fastened in the ordinary way upon a
+pole fifteen to eighteen feet in length.
+
+The swordfish are always harpooned from the end of the bowsprit of a
+sailing-vessel. It is next to impossible to approach them in a small
+boat. All vessels regularly engaged in this fishery are supplied with a
+special apparatus called a "rest," or "pulpit," for the support of the
+harpooner as he stands on the bowsprit, and this is almost essential to
+success, although it is possible for an active man to harpoon a fish
+from this station without the aid of the ordinary framework. Not only
+the professional swordfish fisherman, but many mackerel-schooners and
+packets are supplied in this manner.
+
+The swordfish never comes to the surface except in moderate, smooth
+weather. A vessel cruising in search of them proceeds to the
+fishing-ground, and cruises hither and thither wherever the abundance of
+small fish indicates that they ought to be found. Vessels which are met
+are hailed and asked whether any swordfish have been seen, and if
+tidings are thus obtained the ship's course is at once laid for the
+locality where they were last noticed. A man is always stationed at the
+masthead, where, with the keen eye which practice has given him, he can
+easily descry the telltale dorsal fins at a distance of two or three
+miles. When a fish has once been sighted, the watch "sings out," and the
+vessel is steered directly toward it. The skipper takes his place in the
+"pulpit" holding the pole in both hands by the small end, and directing
+the man at the wheel by voice and gesture how to steer. There is no
+difficulty in approaching the fish with a large vessel, although, as has
+already been remarked, they will not suffer a small boat to come near
+them. The vessel plows and swashes through the water, plunging its
+bowsprit into the waves without exciting their fears. Noises frighten
+them and drive them down. Although there would be no difficulty in
+bringing the end of a bowsprit directly over the fish, a skilful
+harpooner never waits for this. When the fish is from six to ten feet in
+front of the vessel it is struck. The harpoon is never thrown, the pole
+being too long. The strong arm of the harpooner punches the dart into
+the back of the fish, right at the side of the high dorsal fin, and the
+pole is withdrawn and fastened again to its place. When the dart has
+been fastened to the fish the line is allowed to run out as far as the
+fish will carry it, and is then passed in a small boat, which is towing
+at the stern. Two men jump into this, and pull in upon the line until
+the fish is brought in alongside; it is then killed with a whale-lance
+or a whale-spade, which is stuck into the gills.
+
+The fish having been killed, it is lifted upon the deck by a purchase
+tackle of two double blocks rigged in the shrouds.
+
+The pursuit of the swordfish is much more exciting than ordinary
+fishing, for it resembles the hunting of large animals upon the land and
+partakes more of the nature of the chase. There is no slow and careful
+baiting and patient waiting, and no disappointment caused by the
+accidental capture of worthless "bait-stealers." The game is seen and
+followed, and outwitted by wary tactics, and killed by strength of arm
+and skill. The swordfish is a powerful antagonist sometimes, and sends
+his pursuers' vessel into harbor leaking, and almost sinking, from
+injuries he has inflicted. I have known a vessel to be struck by wounded
+swordfish as many as twenty times in a season. There is even the spice
+of personal danger to savor the chase, for the men are occasionally
+wounded by the infuriated fish. One of Captain Ashby's crew was severely
+wounded by a swordfish which thrust his beak through the oak floor of a
+boat on which he was standing, and penetrated about two inches in his
+naked heel. The strange fascination draws men to this pursuit when they
+have once learned its charms. An old swordfish fisherman, who had
+followed the pursuit for twenty years, told me that when he was on the
+cruising-ground, he fished all night in his dreams, and that many a time
+he has rubbed the skin off his knuckles by striking them against the
+ceiling of his bunk when he raised his arms to thrust the harpoon into
+visionary monster swordfishes.
+
+               _The Spear-fish or Bill-fish_
+
+The bill-fish or spear-fish, _Tetrapturus indicus_ (with various related
+forms, which may or may not be specifically identical), occurs in the
+western Atlantic from the West Indies (latitude 10� to 20� N.) to
+southern England (latitude 40� N.); in the eastern Atlantic, from
+Gibraltar (latitude 45� N.) to the Cape of Good Hope (latitude 30� S.)
+in the Indian Ocean, the Malay Archipelago, New Zealand (latitude 40�
+S.), and on the west coast of Chile and Peru. In a general way, the
+range is between latitude 40� N. and latitude 40� S.
+
+The species of _Tetrapturus_ which we have been accustomed to call _T.
+albidus_, abundant about Cuba, is not very usual on the coast of
+southern New England. Several are taken every year by the swordfish
+fishermen. I have not known of their capture along the southern Atlantic
+coast of the United States. All I have known about were taken between
+Sandy Hook and the eastern part of Georges Banks.
+
+The Mediterranean spear-fish, _Tetrapturus balone_, appears to be a
+landlocked form, never passing west of the Straits of Gibraltar.
+
+The spear-fish in our waters is said by our fishermen to resemble the
+swordfish in its movements and manner of feeding. Professor Poey
+narrates that both the Cuban species swim at a depth of one hundred
+fathoms, and they journey in pairs, shaping their course toward the Gulf
+of Mexico, the females being full of eggs. Only adults are taken. It is
+not known whence they come, or where they breed, or how the young
+return. It is not even known whether the adult fish return by the same
+route. When the fish has swallowed the hook it rises to the surface,
+making prodigious leaps and plunges. At last it is dragged to the boat,
+secured with a boat-hook, and beaten to death before it is hauled on
+board. Such fishing is not without danger, for the spear-fish sometimes
+rushes upon the boat, drowning the fisherman, or wounding him with its
+terrible weapon. The fish becomes furious at the appearance of sharks,
+which are its natural enemies. They engage in violent combats, and when
+the spear-fish is attached to the fisherman's line it often receives
+frightful wounds from the adversaries.
+
+The spear-fish strikes vessels in the same manner as the swordfish. I am
+indebted to Capt. William Spicer, of Noank, Connecticut, for this note:
+
+     Mr. William Taylor, of Mystic, a man seventy-six years old, who was
+     in the smack _Evergreen_, Capt. John Appleman, tells me that they
+     started from Mystic, October 3, 1832, on a fishing voyage to Key
+     West, in company with the smack _Morning Star_, Captain Rowland. On
+     the 12th were off Cape Hatteras, the winds blowing heavily from the
+     northeast, and the smack under double-reefed sails. At ten o'clock
+     in the evening they struck a woho, which shocked the vessel all
+     over. The smack was leaking badly, and they made a signal to the
+     _Morning_ _Star_ to keep close to them. The next morning they
+     found the leak, and both smacks kept off Charleston. On arrival
+     they took out the ballast, hove her out, and found that the sword
+     had gone through the planking, timber, and ceiling. The plank was
+     two inches thick, the timber five inches, and the ceiling
+     one-and-a-half-inch white oak. The sword projected two inches
+     through the ceiling, on the inside of the "after run." It struck by
+     a butt on the outside, which caused the leak. They took out and
+     replaced a piece of the plank, and proceeded on their voyage.
+
+               _The Sailfish_
+
+The sailfish, _Histiophorus gladius_ (with _H. americanus_ and _H.
+orientalis_, questionable species, and _H. pulchellus_ and _H.
+immaculatus_, young), occurs in the Red Sea, Indian Ocean, Malay
+Archipelago, and south at least as far as the Cape of Good Hope
+(latitude 35� S.); in the Atlantic on the coast of Brazil (latitude 30�
+S.) to the equator, and north to southern New England (latitude 42� N.);
+in the Pacific to southwestern Japan (latitude 30� to 10� N.). In a
+general way the range may be said to be in tropical and temperate seas,
+between latitude 30� S. and 40� N., and in the western parts of those
+seas.
+
+The first allusion to this genus occurs in Piso's _Historia Naturalis
+Brasili�_ printed in Amsterdam in 1648. In this book may be found an
+identical, though rough, figure of the American species, accompanied by
+a few lines of description, which, though good, when the fact that they
+were written in the seventeenth century is brought to mind, are of no
+value for critical comparison.
+
+The name given to the Brazilian sailfish by Marcgrave, the talented
+young German who described the fish in the book referred to, and who
+afterward sacrificed his life in exploring the unknown fields of
+American zoology, is interesting, since it gives a clue to the
+derivation of the name "boohoo," by which this fish, and probably
+spear-fish, are known to English-speaking sailors in the tropical
+Atlantic.
+
+Sailfish were observed in the East Indies by Renard and Valentijn,
+explorers of that region from 1680 to 1720, and by other Eastern
+voyagers. No species of the genus was, however, systematically described
+until 1786, when a stuffed specimen from the Indian Ocean, eight feet
+long, was taken to London, where it still remains in the collections of
+the British Museum. From this specimen M. Broussonet prepared a
+description, giving it the name _Scomber gladius_, rightly regarding it
+as a species allied to the mackerel.
+
+From the time of Marcgrave until 1872 it does not appear that any
+zoologist had any opportunity to study a sailfish from America or even
+the Atlantic; yet in Gunther's Catalogue, the name _H. americanus_ is
+discarded and the species of America is assumed to be identical with
+that of the Indian Ocean.
+
+The materials in the National Museum consist of a skeleton and a painted
+plaster cast of the specimen taken near Newport, Rhode Island, in
+August, 1872, and given to Professor Baird by Mr. Samuel Powell, of
+Newport. No others were observed in our waters until March, 1878, when,
+according to Mr. Neyle Habersham, of Savannah, Georgia, two were taken
+by a vessel between Savannah and Indian River, Florida, and were brought
+to Savannah, where they attracted much attention in the market. In
+1873, according to Mr. E. G. Blackford, a specimen in a very mutilated
+condition was brought from Key West to New York City.
+
+No observations have been made in this country, and recourse must be had
+to the statements of observers in the other hemisphere.
+
+In the Life of Sir Stamford Raffles is printed a letter from Singapore,
+under date of November 30, 1822, with the following statement:
+
+     The only amusing discovery we have recently made is that of a
+     sailing-fish, called by the natives "ikan layer," of about ten or
+     twelve feet long, which hoists a mainsail, and often sails in the
+     manner of a native boat, and with considerable swiftness. I have
+     sent a set of the sails home, as they are beautifully cut and form
+     a model for a fast-sailing boat. When a school of these are under
+     sail together they are frequently mistaken for a school of native
+     boats.
+
+The fish referred to is in all likelihood _Histiophorus gladius_, a
+species very closely related to, if not identical with, our own.
+
+               _The Cutlass-fish_
+
+The cutlass-fish, _Trichiurus lepturus_, unfortunately known in eastern
+Florida and at Pensacola as the swordfish; at New Orleans, in the St.
+John's River, and at Brunswick, Georgia, it is known as the "silver
+eel"; on the coast of Texas as "saber-fish," while in the Indian River
+region it is called the "skip-jack." No one of these names is
+particularly applicable, and, the latter being preoccupied, it would
+seem advantageous to use in this country the name "cutlass-fish," which
+is current for the same species in the British West Indies.
+
+Its appearance is very remarkable on account of its long, compressed
+form and its glistening, silvery color. The name "scabbard-fish," which
+has been given to an allied species in Europe, would be very proper also
+for this species, for in general shape and appearance it looks very like
+the metallic scabbard of the sword. It attains the length of four or
+five feet, though ordinarily not exceeding twenty-five or thirty inches.
+This species is found in the tropical Atlantic, on the coast of Brazil,
+in the Gulf of California, the West Indies, the Gulf of Mexico, and
+north to Woods Hole, Massachusetts, where, during the past ten years,
+specimens have been occasionally taken. In 1845 one was found at
+Wellfleet, Massachusetts; and in the Essex Institute is a specimen which
+is said to have been found on the shores of the Norway Frith many years
+ago, and during the past decade it has become somewhat abundant in
+southern England. It does not, however, enter the Mediterranean. Some
+writers believed the allied species, _Trichiurus haumela_, found in the
+Indian Ocean and Archipelago and in various parts of the Pacific, to be
+specifically the same.
+
+The cutlass-fish is abundant in the St. John's River, Florida, in the
+Indian River region, and in the Gulf of Mexico. Several instances were
+related to me in which these fish had thrown themselves from the water
+into rowboats, a feat which might be very easily performed by a lithe,
+active species like the _Trichiurus_. A small one fell into a boat
+crossing the mouth of the Arlington River, where the water is nearly
+fresh.
+
+Many individuals of the same species are taken every year at the mouth
+of the St. John's River at Mayport. Stearn states that they are caught
+in the deep waters of the bays about Pensacola, swimming nearly at the
+surface, but chiefly with hooks and lines from the wharves. He has known
+them to strike at the oars of the boat and at the end of the ropes that
+trailed in the water. At Pensacola they reach a length of twenty to
+thirty inches, and are considered good food fish. Richard Hill states
+that in Jamaica this species is much esteemed, and is fished for
+assiduously in a "hole," as it is called--that is, a deep portion of the
+waters off Fort Augusta. This is the best fishing-place for the
+cutlass-fish, _Trichiurus_. The fishing takes place before day; all
+lines are pulled in as fast as they are thrown out, with the certainty
+that the cutlass has been hooked. As many as ninety boats have been
+counted on this fishing-ground at daybreak during the season.
+
+
+
+
+X
+
+THE GLADIATOR OF THE SEA
+
+
+Three summers in Catalina waters I had tried persistently to capture my
+first broadbill swordfish; and so great were the chances against me that
+I tried really without hope. It was fisherman's pride, I imagined,
+rather than hope that drove me. At least I had a remarkably keen
+appreciation of the defeats in store for any man who aspired to
+experience with that marvel of the sea--_Xiphius gladius_, the broadbill
+swordsman.
+
+On the first morning of my fourth summer, 1917, I was up at five. Fine,
+cool, fresh, soft dawn with a pale pink sunrise. Sea rippling with an
+easterly breeze. As the sun rose it grew bright and warm. We did not get
+started out on the water until eight o'clock. The east wind had whipped
+up a little chop that promised bad. But the wind gradually died down and
+the day became hot. Great thunderheads rose over the mainland,
+proclaiming heat on the desert. We saw scattered sheerwater ducks and a
+school of porpoises; also a number of splashes that I was sure were made
+by swordfish.
+
+The first broadbill I sighted had a skinned tail, and evidently had been
+in a battle of some kind. We circled him three times with flying-fish
+bait and once with barracuda, and as he paid no attention to them we
+left him. This fish leaped half out on two occasions, once showing his
+beautiful proportions, his glistening silver white, and his
+dangerous-looking rapier.
+
+ [Illustration: THE ONLY PHOTOGRAPH EVER TAKEN OF LEAPING BROADBILL
+ SWORDFISH]
+
+ [Illustration: XIPHIAS GLADIUS, THE BROADSWORDED GLADIATOR OF THE SEA]
+
+The second one leaped twice before we neared him. And as we made a poor
+attempt at circling him, he saw the boat and would have none of our
+offers.
+
+The third one was skimming along just under the surface, difficult to
+see. After one try at him we lost him.
+
+They were not up on the surface that day, as they are when the best
+results are obtained. The east wind may have had something to do with
+that. These fish would average about three hundred pounds each. Captain
+Dan says the small ones are more wary, or not so hungry, for they do not
+strike readily.
+
+I got sunburnt and a dizzy headache and almost seasick. Yet the day was
+pleasant. The first few days are always hard, until I get broken in.
+
+Next morning the water and conditions were ideal. The first two
+swordfish we saw did not stay on the surface long enough to be worked.
+The third one stayed up, but turned away from the bait every time we got
+it near him. So we left him.
+
+About noon I sighted a big splash a mile off shoreward, and we headed
+that way. Soon I sighted fins. The first time round we got the bait
+right and I felt the old thrill. He went down. I waited; but in vain.
+
+He leaped half out, and some one snapped a picture. It looked like a
+fortunate opportunity grasped. We tried him again, with flying-fish and
+barracuda. But he would not take either. Yet he loafed around on the
+surface, showing his colors, quite near the boat. He leaped clear out
+once, but I saw only the splash. Then he came out sideways, a skittering
+sort of plunge, lazy and heavy. He was about a three-hundred pounder,
+white and blue and green, a rare specimen of fish. We tried him again
+and drew a bait right in front of him. No use! Then we charged him--ran
+him down. Even then he was not frightened, and came up astern. At last,
+discouraged at his indifference, we left him.
+
+This day was ideal up to noon. Then the sun got very hot. My wrists were
+burnt, and neck and face. My eyes got tired searching the sea for fins.
+It was a great game, this swordfishing, and beat any other I ever tried,
+for patience and endurance. The last fish showed his cunning. They were
+all different, and a study of each would be fascinating and instructive.
+
+Next morning was fine. There were several hours when the sea was smooth
+and we could have sighted a swordfish a long distance. We went eastward
+of the ship course almost over to Newport. At noon a westerly wind
+sprang up and the water grew rough. It took some hours to be out of it
+to the leeward of the island.
+
+I saw a whale bend his back and sound and lift his flukes high in the
+air--one of the wonder sights of the ocean.
+
+It was foggy all morning, and rather too cool. No fish of any kind
+showed on the surface. One of those inexplicably blank days that are
+inevitable in sea angling.
+
+When we got to the dock we made a discovery. There was a kink in my
+leader about one inch above the hook. Nothing but the sword of old
+_Xiphius gladius_ could have made that kink! Then I remembered a
+strange, quick, hard jerk that had taken my bait, and which I thought
+had been done by a shark. It was a swordfish striking the bait off!
+
+Next day we left the dock at six fifteen, Dan and I alone. The day was
+lowering and windy--looked bad. We got out ahead of every one. Trolled
+out five miles, then up to the west end. We got among the Japs fishing
+for albacore.
+
+About eleven I sighted a B. B. We dragged a bait near him and he went
+down with a flirt of his tail. My heart stood still. Dan and I both made
+sure it was a strike. But, no! He came up far astern, and then went down
+for good.
+
+The sea got rough. The wind was chilling to the bone. Sheerwater ducks
+were everywhere, in flocks and singly. Saw one yellow patch of small
+bait fish about an inch long. This patch was forty yards across. No fish
+appeared to be working on it.
+
+Dan sighted a big swordfish. We made for him. Dan put on an albacore.
+But it came off before I could let out the line. Then we tried a
+barracuda. I got a long line out and the hook pulled loose. This was
+unfortunate and aggravating. We had one barracuda left. Dan hooked it on
+hard.
+
+"That'll never come off!" he exclaimed. We circled old _Xiphius_, and
+when about fifty yards distant he lifted himself clear out--a most
+terrifying and magnificent fish. He would have weighed four hundred. His
+colors shone--blazed--purple blue, pale green, iridescent copper, and
+flaming silver. Then he made a long, low lunge away from us. I bade him
+good-by, but let the barracuda drift back. We waited a long time while
+the line slowly bagged, drifting toward us. Suddenly I felt a quick,
+strong pull. It electrified me. I yelled to Dan. He said, excitedly,
+"Feed it to him!" but the line ceased to play out. I waited, slowly
+losing hope, with my pulses going back to normal. After we drifted for
+five minutes I wound in the line. The barracuda was gone and the leader
+had been rolled up. This astounded us. That swordfish had taken my bait.
+I felt his first pull. Then he had come toward the boat, crushing the
+bait off the hook, without making even a twitch on the slack line. It
+was heartbreaking. But we could not have done any different. Dan decided
+the fish had come after the teasers. This experience taught us exceeding
+respect for the broadbill.
+
+Again we were off early in the morning. Wind outside and growing rough.
+Sun bright until off Isthmus, when we ran into fog. The Jap
+albacore-boats were farther west. Albacore not biting well. Sea grew
+rough. About eleven thirty the fog cleared and the sea became
+beautifully blue and white-crested.
+
+I was up on the deck when a yell from below made me jump. I ran back.
+Some one was holding my rod, and on the instant that a huge swordfish
+got the bait had not the presence of mind to throw off the drag and let
+out line. We hurried to put on another flying-fish and I let out the
+line.
+
+Soon Dan yelled, "There he is--behind your bait!"
+
+I saw him--huge, brown, wide, weaving after my bait. Then he hit it with
+his sword. I imagined I could feel him cut it. Winding in, I found the
+bait cut off neatly back of the head. While Dan hurried with another
+bait I watched for the swordfish, and saw him back in the wake, rather
+deep. He was following us. It was an intensely exciting moment. I let
+the bait drift back. Almost at once I felt that peculiar rap at my bait,
+then another. Somehow I knew he had cut off another flying-fish. I
+reeled in. He had severed this bait in the middle. Frantically we baited
+again. I let out a long line, and we drifted. Hope was almost gone when
+there came a swift tug on my line, and then the reel whirred. I thumbed
+the pad lightly. Dan yelled for me to let him have it. I was all
+tingling with wonderful thrills. What a magnificent strike! He took line
+so fast it amazed me.
+
+All at once, just as Dan yelled to hook him, the reel ceased to turn,
+the line slacked. I began to jerk hard and wind in, all breathless with
+excitement and frenzy of hope. Not for half a dozen pumps and windings
+did I feel him. Then heavy and strong came the weight. I jerked and
+reeled. But I did not get a powerful strike on that fish. Suddenly the
+line slacked and my heart contracted. He had shaken the hook. I reeled
+in. Bait gone! He had doubled on me and run as swiftly toward the boat
+as he had at first run from it.
+
+The hook had not caught well. Probably he had just held the bait between
+his jaws. The disappointment was exceedingly bitter and poignant. My
+respect for _Xiphius_ increased in proportion to my sense of lost
+opportunity. This great fish thinks! That was my conviction.
+
+We sighted another that refused to take a bait and soon went down.
+
+We had learned the last few days that broadbills will strike when not on
+the surface, just as Marlin swordfish do.
+
+On our next day out we had smooth sea all morning, with great,
+slow-running swells, long and high, with deep hollows between. Vast,
+heaving bosom of the deep! It was majestic. Along the horizon ran dark,
+low, lumpy waves, moving fast. A thick fog, like a pall, hung over the
+sea all morning.
+
+About eleven o'clock I sighted fins. We made a circle round him, and
+drew the bait almost right across his bill. He went down. Again that
+familiar waiting, poignant suspense!... He refused to strike.
+
+Next one was a big fellow with pale fins. We made a perfect circle, and
+he went down as if to take the bait!... But he came up. We tried again.
+Same result. Then we put on an albacore and drew that, tail first, in
+front of him. Slowly he swam toward it, went down, and suddenly turned
+and shot away, leaving a big wake. He was badly scared by that albacore.
+
+Next one we worked three times before he went down, and the last one
+gave us opportunity for only one circle before he sank.
+
+They are shy, keen, and wise.
+
+The morning following, as we headed out over a darkly rippling sea, some
+four miles off Long Point, where we had the thrilling strikes from the
+big swordfish, and which place we had fondly imagined was our happy
+hunting-ground--because it was near shore and off the usual fishing
+course out in the channel--we ran into Boschen fighting a fish.
+
+This is a spectacle not given to many fishermen, and I saw my
+opportunity.
+
+With my glass I watched Boschen fight the swordfish, and I concluded
+from the way he pulled that he was fast to the bottom of the ocean. We
+went on our way then, and that night when I got in I saw his wonderful
+swordfish, the world's record we all knew he would get some day. Four
+hundred and sixty-three pounds! And he had the luck to kill this great
+fish in short time. My friend Doctor Riggin, a scientist, dissected this
+fish, and found that Boschen's hook had torn into the heart. This
+strange feature explained the easy capture, and, though it might detract
+somewhat from Boschen's pride in the achievement, it certainly did not
+detract from the record.
+
+That night, after coming in from the day's hunt for swordfish, Dan and I
+decided to get good bait. At five thirty we started for seal rocks. The
+sun was setting, and the red fog over the west end of the island was
+weird and beautiful. Long, slow swells were running, and they boomed
+inshore on the rocks. Seals were barking--a hoarse, raucous croak. I saw
+a lonely heron silhouetted against the red glow of the western horizon.
+
+We fished--trolling slowly a few hundred yards offshore--and soon were
+fighting barracuda, which we needed so badly for swordfish bait.
+
+They strike easily, and put up a jerky kind of battle. They are a long,
+slim fish, yellow and white in the water, a glistening pale bronze and
+silver when landed. I hooked a harder-fighting fish, which, when brought
+in, proved to be a white sea-bass, a very beautiful species with faint
+purplish color and mottled opal tints above the deep silver.
+
+Next morning we left the bay at six thirty. It was the calmest day we
+had had in days. The sea was like a beveled mirror, oily, soft, and
+ethereal, with low swells barely moving. An hour and a half out we were
+alone on the sea, out of sight of land, with the sun faintly showing,
+and all around us, inclosing and mystical, a thin haze of fog.
+
+Alone, alone, all alone on a wide, wide sea! This was wonderful, far
+beyond any pursuit of swordfish.
+
+We sighted birds, gulls, and ducks floating like bits of colored cork,
+and pieces of kelp, and at length a broadbill. We circled him three
+times with barracuda, and again with a flying-fish. Apparently he had no
+interest in edibles. He scorned our lures. But we stayed with him until
+he sank for good.
+
+Then we rode the sea for hours, searching for fins.
+
+At ten forty we sighted another. Twice we drew a fresh fine barracuda in
+front of him, which he refused. It was so disappointing, in fact, really
+sickening.
+
+Dan was disgusted. He said, "We can't get them to bite!"
+
+And I said, "Let's try again!"
+
+So we circled him once more. The sea was beautifully smooth, with the
+slow swells gently heaving. The swordfish rode them lazily and
+indifferently. His dorsal stood up straight and stiff, and the big
+sickle-shaped tail-fin wove to and fro behind. I gazed at them
+longingly, in despair, as unattainable. I knew of nothing in the
+fishing game as tantalizing and despairing as this sight.
+
+ [Illustration: A STRAIGHTAWAY GREYHOUND LEAP, MARVELOUS FOR ITS SPEED
+ AND WILDNESS]
+
+ [Illustration: LIKE A LEAPING SPECTER]
+
+We got rather near him this time, as he turned, facing us, and slowly
+swam in the direction of my bait. I could see the barracuda shining
+astern. Dan stopped the boat. I slowly let out line. The swordfish
+drifted back, and then sank.
+
+I waited, intensely, but really without hope. And I watched my bait
+until it sank out of sight. Then followed what seemed a long wait.
+Probably it was really only a few moments. I had a sort of hopeless
+feeling. But I respected the fish all the more.
+
+Then suddenly I felt a quiver of my line, as if an electric current had
+animated it. I was shocked keen and thrilling. My line whipped up and
+ran out.
+
+"He's got it!" I called, tensely. That was a strong, stirring instant as
+with fascinated eyes I watched the line pass swiftly and steadily off
+the reel. I let him run a long way.
+
+Then I sat down, jammed the rod in the socket, put on the drag, and
+began to strike. The second powerful sweep of the rod brought the line
+tight and I felt that heavy live weight. I struck at least a dozen times
+with all my might while the line was going off the reel. The swordfish
+was moving ponderously. Presently he came up with a great splash,
+showing his huge fins, and then the dark, slender, sweeping sword. He
+waved that sword, striking fiercely at the leader. Then he went down. It
+was only at this moment I realized I had again hooked a broadbill. Time,
+ten forty-five.
+
+The fight was on.
+
+For a while he circled the boat and it was impossible to move him a
+foot. He was about two hundred and fifty yards from us. Every once in a
+while he would come up. His sword would appear first, a most
+extraordinary sight as it pierced the water. We could hear the swish.
+Once he leaped half out. We missed this picture. I kept a steady, hard
+strain on him, pumping now and then, getting a little line in, which he
+always got back. The first hour passed swiftly with this surface fight
+alternating with his slow heavy work down. However, he did not sound.
+
+About eleven forty-five he leaped clear out, and we snapped two pictures
+of him. It was a fierce effort to free the hook, a leap not beautiful
+and graceful, like that of the Marlin, but magnificent and dogged.
+
+After this leap he changed his tactics. Repeatedly I was pulled forward
+and lifted from my seat by sudden violent jerks. They grew more frequent
+and harder. He came up and we saw how he did that. He was facing the
+boat and batting the leader with his sword. This was the most remarkable
+action I ever observed in a fighting fish. That sword was a weapon. I
+could hear it hit the leader. But he did most of this work under the
+surface. Every time he hit the leader it seemed likely to crack my neck.
+The rod bent, then the line slackened so I could feel no weight, the rod
+flew straight. I had an instant of palpitating dread, feeling he had
+freed himself--then harder came the irresistible, heavy drag again. This
+batting of the leader and consequent slacking of the line worried Dan,
+as it did me. Neither of us expected to hold the fish. As a performance
+it was wonderful. But to endure it was terrible. And he batted that
+leader at least three hundred times!
+
+In fact, every moment or two he banged the leader several times for over
+an hour. It almost wore me out. If he had not changed those tactics
+again those jerks would have put a kink in my neck and back. But
+fortunately he came up on the surface to thresh about some more. Again
+he leaped clear, affording us another chance for a picture. Following
+that he took his first long run. It was about one hundred yards and as
+fast as a Marlin. Then he sounded. He stayed down for half an hour. When
+he came up somewhat he seemed to be less resistant, and we dragged him
+at slow speed for several miles. At the end of three hours I asked Dan
+for the harness, which he strapped to my shoulders. This afforded me
+relief for my arms and aching hands, but the straps cut into my back,
+and that hurt. The harness enabled me to lift and pull by a movement of
+shoulders. I worked steadily on him for an hour, five different times
+getting the two-hundred-foot mark on the line over my reel. When I tired
+Dan would throw in the clutch and drag him some more. Once he followed
+us without strain for a while; again we dragged him two or three miles.
+And most remarkable of all, there was a period of a few moments when he
+towed us. A wonderful test for a twenty-four-strand line! We made
+certain of this by throwing papers overboard and making allowance for
+the drift. At that time there was no wind. I had three and one-half
+hours of perfectly smooth water.
+
+It was great to be out there on a lonely sea with that splendid fish. I
+was tiring, but did not fail to see the shimmering beauty of the sea,
+the playing of albacore near at hand, the flight of frightened
+flying-fish, the swooping down of gulls, the dim shapes of boats far
+off, and away above the cloud-bank of fog the mountains of California.
+
+About two o'clock our indefatigable quarry began to belabor the leader
+again. He appeared even more vicious and stronger. That jerk, with its
+ragged, rough loosening of the line, making me feel the hook was tearing
+out, was the most trying action any fish ever worked on me. The physical
+effort necessary to hold him was enough, without that onslaught on my
+leader. Again there came a roar of water, a splash, and his huge
+dark-blue and copper-colored body surged on the surface. He wagged his
+head and the long black sword made a half-circle. The line was taut from
+boat to fish in spite of all I could do in lowering my rod. I had to
+hold it up far enough to get the spring. There was absolutely no way to
+keep him from getting slack. The dangerous time in fighting heavy,
+powerful fish is when they head toward the angler. Then the hook will
+pull out more easily than at any other time. He gave me a second long
+siege of these tactics until I was afraid I would give out. When he got
+through and sounded I had to have the back-rest replaced in the seat to
+rest my aching back.
+
+Three o'clock came and passed. We dragged him awhile, and found him
+slower, steadier, easier to pull. That constant long strain must have
+been telling upon him. It was also telling upon me. As I tried to
+save some strength for the finish, I had not once tried my utmost at
+lifting him or pulling him near the boat. Along about four o'clock he
+swung round to the west in the sun glare and there he hung, broadside,
+about a hundred yards out, for an hour. We had to go along with him.
+
+ [Illustration: WALKING ON HIS TAIL]
+
+ [Illustration: A MAGNIFICENT FLASHING LEAP. THIS PERFECT PICTURE
+ CONSIDERED BY AUTHOR TO BE WORTH HIS FIVE YEARS' LABOR AND PATIENCE]
+
+The sea began to ripple with a breeze, and at length white-caps
+appeared. In half an hour it was rough, not bad, but still making my
+work exceedingly hard. I had to lift the rod up to keep the seat from
+turning and to hold my footing on the slippery floor. The water dripping
+from the reel had wet me and all around me.
+
+At five o'clock I could not stand the harness any longer, so had Dan
+remove it. That was a relief. I began to pump my fish as in the earlier
+hours of the fight. Eventually I got him out of that broadside position
+away from us and to the boat. He took some line, which I got back. I now
+began to have confidence in being able to hold him. He had ceased
+batting the leader. For a while he stayed astern, but gradually worked
+closer. This worried Dan. He was getting under the boat. Dan started
+faster ahead and still the swordfish kept just under us, perhaps fifty
+feet down. It was not long until Dan was running at full speed. But we
+could not lose the old gladiator! Then I bade Dan slow down, which he
+was reluctant to do. He feared the swordfish would ram us, and I had
+some qualms myself. At five thirty he dropped astern again and we
+breathed freer. At this time I decided to see if I could pull him close.
+I began to pump and reel, and inch by inch, almost, I gained line. I
+could not tell just how far away he was, because the marks had worn off
+my line. It was amazing and thrilling, therefore, to suddenly see the
+end of the double line appear. Dan yelled. So did I. Like a Trojan I
+worked till I got that double line over my reel. Then we all saw the
+fish. He was on his side, swimming with us--a huge, bird-shaped creature
+with a frightful bill. Dan called me to get the leader out of water and
+then hold. This took about all I had left of strength. The fish wavered
+from side to side, and Dan feared he would go under the boat. He ordered
+me to hold tight, and he put on more speed. This grew to be more than I
+could stand. It was desperately hard to keep the line from slipping. And
+I knew a little more of that would lose my fish. So I called Dan to take
+the leader. With his huge gaff in right hand, Dan reached for the leader
+with his left, grasped it, surged the fish up and made a lunge. There
+came a roar and a beating against the boat. Dan yelled for another gaff.
+It was handed to him and he plunged that into the fish.
+
+Then I let down my rod and dove for the short rope to lasso the sweeping
+tail. Fortunately he kept quiet a moment in which I got the loop fast.
+It was then _Xiphius gladius_ really woke up. He began a tremendous
+beating with his tail. Both gaff ropes began to loosen, and the rope on
+his tail flew out of my hands. Dan got it in time. But it was slipping.
+He yelled for me to make a hitch somewhere. I was pulled flat in the
+cockpit, but scrambled up, out on the stern, and held on to that rope
+grimly while I tried to fasten it. Just almost impossible! The water was
+deluging us. The swordfish banged the boat with sodden, heavy blows.
+But I got the rope fast. Then I went to Dan's assistance. The two of us
+pulled that tremendous tail up out of the water and made fast the rope.
+Then we knew we had him. But he surged and strained and lashed for a
+long while. And side blows of his sword scarred the boat. At last he
+sagged down quiet, and we headed for Avalon. Once more in smooth water,
+we loaded him astern. I found the hook just in the corner of his mouth,
+which fact accounted for the long battle.
+
+Doctor Riggin, the University of Pennsylvania anatomist, and classmate
+of mine, dissected this fish for me. Two of the most remarkable features
+about _Xiphius gladius_ were his heart and eye.
+
+The heart was situated deep in just back of the gills. It was a big
+organ, exceedingly heavy, and the most muscular tissue I ever saw. In
+fact, so powerfully muscular was it that when cut the tissue contracted
+and could not be placed together again. The valves were likewise
+remarkably well developed and strong. This wonderful heart accounted for
+the wonderful vitality of the swordfish. The eyes of a swordfish
+likewise proved the wonder of nature. They were huge and prominent, a
+deep sea-blue set in pale crystal rims and black circles. A swordfish
+could revolve his eyes and turn them in their sockets so that they were
+absolutely protected in battle with his mates and rivals. The eye had a
+covering of bone, cup-shaped, and it was this bone that afforded
+protection. It was evident that when the eye was completely turned in
+the swordfish could not see at all. Probably this was for close battle.
+The muscles were very heavy and strong, one attached at the rim of the
+eye and the other farther back. The optic nerve was as large as the
+median nerve of a man's arm--that is to say, half the size of a
+lead-pencil. There were three coverings over the fluid that held the
+pupil. And these were as thick and tough as isinglass. Most remarkable
+of all was the ciliary muscle which held the capacity of contracting the
+lens for distant vision. A swordfish could see as far as the rays of
+light penetrated in whatever depth he swam. I have always suspected he
+had extraordinary eyesight, and this dissection of the eye proved it. No
+fear a swordfish will not see a bait! He can see the boat and the bait a
+long distance.
+
+Doctor Riggin found no sperm in any of the male fish he dissected, which
+was proof that swordfish spawn before coming to Catalina waters. They
+are a warm-water fish, and probably head off the Japan current into some
+warm, intersecting branch that leads to spawning-banks.
+
+This was happy knowledge for me, because it will be good to know that
+when old _Xiphius gladius_ is driven from Catalina waters he will be
+roaming some other place of the Seven Seas, his great sickle fins
+shining dark against the blue.
+
+ [Illustration: TIRED OUT--THE LAST SLOW HEAVE]
+
+ [Illustration: HAULED ABOARD WITH BLOCK AND TACKLE]
+
+
+
+
+XI
+
+SEVEN MARLIN SWORDFISH IN ONE DAY
+
+
+San Clemente lies forty miles south of Santa Catalina, out in the
+Pacific, open to wind and fog, scorched by sun, and beaten on every
+shore by contending tides. Seen from afar, the island seems a bleak,
+long, narrow strip of drab rock rising from a low west end to the
+dignity of a mountain near the east end. Seen close at hand, it is still
+barren, bleak, and drab; but it shows long golden slopes of wild oats;
+looming, gray, lichen-colored crags, where the eagles perch; and rugged
+deep ca�ons, cactus-covered on the south side and on the other indented
+by caves and caverns, and green with clumps of wild-lilac and
+wild-cherry and arbor-vit�; and bare round domes where the wild goats
+stand silhouetted against the blue sky.
+
+This island is volcanic in origin and structure, and its great caves
+have been made by blow-holes in hot lava. Erosion has weathered slope
+and wall and crag. For the most part these slopes and walls are
+exceedingly hard to climb. The goat trails are narrow and steep, the
+rocks sharp and ragged, the cactus thick and treacherous. Many years ago
+Mexicans placed goats on the island for the need of shipwrecked sailors,
+and these goats have traversed the wild oat slopes until they are like
+a network of trails. Every little space of grass has its crisscross of
+goat trails.
+
+I rested high up on a slope, in the lee of a rugged rock, all
+rust-stained and gray-lichened, with a deep cactus-covered ca�on to my
+left, the long, yellow, windy slope of wild oats to my right, and
+beneath me the Pacific, majestic and grand, where the great white
+rollers moved in graceful heaves along the blue. The shore-line, curved
+by rounded gravelly beach and jutted by rocky point, showed creeping
+white lines of foam, and then green water spotted by beds of golden
+kelp, reaching out into the deeps. Far across the lonely space rose
+creamy clouds, thunderheads looming over the desert on the mainland.
+
+A big black raven soared by with dismal croak. The wind rustled the
+oats. There was no other sound but the sound of the sea--deep,
+low-toned, booming like thunder, long crash and continuous roar.
+
+How wonderful to watch eagles in their native haunts! I saw a bald eagle
+sail by, and then two golden eagles winging heavy flight after him.
+There seemed to be contention or rivalry, for when the white-headed bird
+alighted the others swooped down upon him. They circled and flew in and
+out of the ca�on, and one let out a shrill, piercing scream. They
+disappeared and I watched a lonely gull riding the swells. He at least
+was at home on the restless waters. Life is beautiful, particularly
+elemental life. Then far above I saw the white-tipped eagle and I
+thrilled to see the difference now in his flight. He was monarch of the
+air, king of the wind, lonely and grand in the blue. He soared, he
+floated, he sailed, and then, away across the skies he flew, swift as an
+arrow, to slow and circle again, and swoop up high and higher,
+wide-winged and free, ringed in the azure blue, and then like a
+thunderbolt he fell, to vanish beyond the crags.
+
+Again I saw right before me a small brown hawk, poised motionless,
+resting on the wind, with quivering wings, and he hung there, looking
+down for his prey--some luckless lizard or rat. He seemed suspended on
+wires. There, down like a brown flash he was gone, and surely that swoop
+meant a desert tragedy.
+
+I heard the bleat of a lamb or kid, and it pierced the melancholy roar
+of the sea.
+
+If there is a rapture on the lonely shore, there was indeed rapture here
+high above it, blown upon by the sweet, soft winds. I heard the bleat
+close at hand. Turning, I saw a she-goat with little kid scarce a foot
+high. She crossed a patch of cactus. The kid essayed to follow here, but
+found the way too thorny. He bleated--a tiny, pin-pointed bleat--and his
+mother turned to answer encouragingly. He leaped over a cactus,
+attempted another, and, failing, fell on the sharp prickers. He bleated
+in distress and scrambled out of that hard and painful place. The mother
+came around, and presently, reunited, they went on, to disappear.
+
+The island seemed consecrated to sun and sea. It lay out of the latitude
+of ships. Only a few Mexican sheep-herders lived there, up at the east
+end where less-rugged land allowed pasture for their flocks. A little
+rain falls during the winter months, and soon disappears from the
+porous ca�on-beds. Water-holes were rare and springs rarer. The summit
+was flat, except for some rounded domes of mountains, and there the
+deadly cholla cactus grew--not in profusion, but enough to prove the
+dread of the Mexicans for this species of desert plant. It was a small
+bush, with cones like a pine cone in shape, growing in clusters, and
+over stems and cones were fine steel-pointed needles with invisible
+hooks at the ends.
+
+A barren, lonely prospect, that flat plateau above, an empire of the
+sun, where heat veils rose and mirages haunted the eye. But at sunset
+fog rolled up from the outer channel, and if the sun blasted the life on
+the island, the fog saved it. So there was war between sun and fog, the
+one that was the lord of day, and the other the dew-laden savior of
+night.
+
+South, on the windward side, opened a wide bay, Smugglers Cove by name,
+and it was infinitely more beautiful than its name. A great curve
+indented the league-long slope of island, at each end of which low,
+ragged lines of black rock jutted out into the sea. Around this immense
+bare amphitheater, which had no growth save scant cactus and patches of
+grass, could be seen long lines of shelves where the sea-levels had been
+in successive ages of the past.
+
+Near the middle of the curve, on a bleached bank, stood a lonely little
+hut, facing the sea. Old and weather-beaten, out of place there, it held
+and fascinated the gaze. Below it a white shore-line curved away where
+the waves rolled in, sadly grand, to break and spread on the beach.
+
+At the east end, where the jagged black rocks met the sea, I loved to
+watch a great swell rise out of the level blue, heave and come,
+slow-lifting as if from some infinite power, to grow and climb aloft
+till the blue turned green and sunlight showed through, and the long,
+smooth crest, where the seals rode, took on a sharp edge to send wisps
+of spray in the wind, and, rising sheer, the whole swell, solemn and
+ponderous and majestic, lifted its volume one beautiful instant, then
+curled its shining crest and rolled in and down with a thundering,
+booming roar, all the curves and contours gone in a green-white seething
+mass that climbed the reefs and dashed itself to ruin.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+An extraordinary achievement and record fell to my brother R. C. It was
+too much good luck ever to come my way. Fame is a fickle goddess. R. C.
+had no ambition to make a great catch of swordfish. He angles for these
+big game of the sea more to furnish company for me than for any other
+reason. He likes best the golden, rocky streams where the bronze-back
+black-bass hide, or the swift, amber-colored brooks full of rainbow
+trout.
+
+I must add that in my opinion, and Captain Danielson's also, R. C. is a
+superior angler, and all unconscious of it. He has not my intimate
+knowledge of big fish, but he did not seem to need that. He is powerful
+in the shoulders and arms, his hands are strong and hard from baseball
+and rowing, and he is practically tireless. He never rested while
+fighting a fish. We never saw him lean the rod on the gunwale. All of
+which accounts for his quick conquering of a Marlin swordfish. We have
+yet to see him work upon a broadbill or a big tuna; and that is
+something Captain Dan and I are anticipating with much pleasure and
+considerable doubt.
+
+August 31st dawned fine and cool and pleasant, rather hazy, with warm
+sun and smooth sea.
+
+The night before we had sat in front of our tents above the beach and
+watched the flying-fish come out in twos and threes and schools, all the
+way down the rugged coast. I told the captain then that swordfish were
+chasing them. But he was skeptical.
+
+This morning I remembered, and I was watching. Just at the Glory Hole my
+brother yelled, "Strike!" I did not see the fish before he hit the bait.
+It is really remarkable how these swordfish can get to a bait on the
+surface without being seen. R. C. hooked the Marlin.
+
+The first leap showed the fish to be small. He did not appear to be much
+of a jumper or fighter. He leaped six times, and then tried to swim out
+to sea. Slow, steady work of R. C.'s brought him up to the boat in
+fifteen minutes. But we did not gaff him. We estimated his weight at one
+hundred and thirty pounds. Captain Dan cut the leader close to the hook.
+I watched the fish swim lazily away, apparently unhurt, and sure to
+recover.
+
+We got going again, and had scarce trolled a hundred yards when I saw
+something my companions missed. I stood up.
+
+"Well, this starts out like your day," I remarked to my brother.
+
+Then he saw a purple shape weaving back of his bait and that galvanized
+him into attention. It always thrilled me to see a swordfish back of the
+bait. This one took hold and ran off to the right. When hooked it took
+line with a rush, began to thresh half out, and presently sounded. We
+lost the direction. It came up far ahead of the boat and began to leap
+and run on the surface.
+
+We followed while R. C. recovered the line. Then he held the fish well
+in hand; and in the short time of twelve minutes brought the leader to
+Dan's hand. The Marlin made a great splash as he was cut loose.
+
+"Say, two swordfish in less than half an hour!" I expostulated. "Dan,
+this might be _the_ day."
+
+Captain Dan looked hopeful. We were always looking for that day which
+came once or twice each season.
+
+"I'm tired," said my brother. "Now you catch a couple."
+
+He talked about swordfish as carelessly as he used to talk about
+sunfish. But he was not in the least tired. I made him take up the rod
+again. I sensed events. The sea looked darkly rippling, inviting, as if
+to lure us on.
+
+We had worked and drifted a little offshore. But that did not appear to
+put us out of the latitude of swordfish. Suddenly Captain Dan yelled,
+"Look out!" Then we all saw a blaze of purple back of R. C.'s bait. Dan
+threw out the clutch. But this Marlin was shy. He flashed back and
+forth. How swift! His motion was only a purple flash. He loomed up after
+the teasers. We had three of these flying-fish out as teasers, all close
+to the boat. I always wondered why the swordfish appear more attracted
+to the teasers than to our hooked baits only a few yards back. I made
+the mistake to pull the teasers away from this swordfish. Then he left
+us.
+
+I was convinced, however, that this was to be R. C.'s day, and so, much
+to his amaze and annoyance, I put away my rod. No sooner had I quit
+fishing than a big black tail showed a few yards out from R. C.'s bait.
+Then a shining streak shot across under the water, went behind R. C.'s
+bait, passed it, came again. This time I saw him plainly. He was big and
+hungry, but shy. He rushed the bait. I saw him take it in his pointed
+jaws and swerve out of sight, leaving a boil on the surface. R. C. did
+not give him time to swallow the hook, but struck immediately. The fish
+ran off two hundred yards and then burst up on the surface. He was a
+jumper, and as he stayed in sight we all began to yell our admiration.
+He cleared the water forty-two times, all in a very few minutes. At the
+end of twenty-eight minutes R. C., with a red face and a bulging jaw,
+had the swordfish beaten and within reach of Captain Dan.
+
+"He's a big one--over two hundred and fifty," asserted that worthy.
+"Mebbe you won't strike a bigger one."
+
+"Cut him loose," I said, and my brother echoed my wish.
+
+It was a great sight to see that splendid swordfish drift away from the
+boat--to watch him slowly discover that he was free.
+
+"Ten o'clock! We'll hang up two records to-day!" boomed Captain Dan,
+as with big, swift hands he put on another bait for R. C.
+
+ [Illustration: R. C. ON THE JOB]
+
+ [Illustration: 304 POUNDS]
+
+ [Illustration: R. C. GREY AND RECORD MARLIN]
+
+"Do you fellows take me for a drag-horse?" inquired R. C., mildly. "I've
+caught enough swordfish for this year."
+
+"Why, man, it's the day!" exclaimed Captain Dan, in amaze and fear.
+
+"Humph!" replied my brother.
+
+"But the chance for a record!" I added, weakly. "Only ten o'clock....
+Three swordfish already.... Great chance for Dan, you know.... Beat the
+dickens out of these other fishermen."
+
+"Aw, that's a lot of 'con'!" replied my brother.
+
+Very eloquently then I elaborated on the fact that we were releasing the
+fish, inaugurating a sportsman-like example never before done there;
+that it really bid fair to be a wonderful day; that I was having a great
+chance to snap pictures of leaping fish; that it would be a favor to me
+for him to go the limit on this one occasion.
+
+But R. C. showed no sign of wavering. He was right, of course, and I
+acknowledged that afterward to myself. On the instant, however, I racked
+my brain for some persuasive argument. Suddenly I had an inspiration.
+
+"They think you're a dub fisherman," I declared, forcefully.
+
+"_They?_" My brother glared darkly at me.
+
+"Sure," I replied, hurriedly, with no intention of explaining that
+dubious _they_. "Now's your chance to fool them."
+
+"Ahuh! All right, fetch on a flock of swordfish, and then some
+broadbills," remarked R. C., blandly. "Hurry, Dan! There's a fin right
+over there. Lead me to him! See."
+
+Sure enough, R. C. pointed out a dark sickle fin on the surface. I
+marveled at the sight. It certainly is funny the luck some fishermen
+have! Captain Dan, beaming like a sunrise, swung the boat around toward
+the swordfish.
+
+That Marlin rushed the teasers. I pulled all three away from him, while
+R. C. was reeling in his bait to get it close. Then the swordfish fell
+all over himself after it. He got it. He would have climbed aboard after
+it. The way R. C. hooked this swordfish showed that somebody had got his
+dander up and was out to do things. This pleased me immensely. It scared
+me a little, too, for R. C. showed no disposition to give line or be
+gentle to the swordfish. In fact, it was real fight now. And this
+particular fish appeared to have no show on earth--or rather in the
+water--and after fourteen leaps he was hauled up to the boat in such
+short order that if we had gaffed him, as we used to gaff Marlin, we
+would have had a desperate fight to hold him. But how easy to cut him
+free! He darted down like a blue streak. I had no fair sight of him to
+judge weight, but Captain Dan said he was good and heavy.
+
+"Come on! Don't be so slow!" yelled R. C., with a roving eye over the
+deep.
+
+Captain Dan was in his element. He saw victory perched upon the mast of
+the _Leta D._ He moved with a celerity that amazed me, when I remembered
+how exasperatingly slow he could be, fooling with kites. This was
+Captain Dan's game.
+
+"The ocean's alive with swordfish!" he boomed. Only twice before had I
+heard him say that, and he was right each time. I gazed abroad over the
+beautiful sea, and, though I could not see any swordfish, somehow I
+believed him. It was difficult now, in this exciting zest of a record
+feat, to think of the nobler attributes of fishing. Strong, earnest,
+thrilling business it was indeed for Captain Dan.
+
+We all expected to see a swordfish again. That was exactly what
+happened. We had not gone a dozen boat-lengths when up out of the blue
+depths lunged a lazy swordfish and attached himself to R. C.'s hook. He
+sort of half lolled out in lazy splashes four or five times. He looked
+huge. All of a sudden he started off, making the reel hum. That run
+developed swiftly. Dan backed the boat full speed. In vain! It was too
+late to turn. That swordfish run became the swiftest and hardest I ever
+saw. A four-hundred-yard run, all at once, was something new even for
+me. I yelled for R. C. to throw off the drag. He tried, but failed. I
+doubted afterward if that would have done any good. That swordfish was
+going away from there. He broke the line.
+
+"Gee! What a run!" I burst out. "I'm sorry. I hate to break off hooks in
+fish."
+
+"Put your hand on my reel," said R. C.
+
+It was almost too hot to bear touching. R. C. began winding in the long
+slack line.
+
+"Did you see that one?" he asked, grimly.
+
+"Not plain. But what I did see looked big."
+
+"Say, he was a whale!" R. C.'s flashing eyes showed he had warmed to the
+battle.
+
+In just ten minutes another swordfish was chasing the teasers. It was
+my thrilling task to keep them away from him. Hard as I pulled, I failed
+to keep at least one of them from him. He took it with a "wop," his bill
+half out of the water, and as he turned with a splash R. C. had his bait
+right there. Smash! The swordfish sheered off, with the bait shining
+white in his bill. When hooked he broke water about fifty yards out and
+then gave an exhibition of high and lofty tumbling, water-smashing, and
+spray-flinging that delighted us. Then he took to long, greyhound leaps
+and we had to chase him. But he did not last long, with the inexorable
+R. C. bending back on that Murphy rod. After being cut free, this
+swordfish lay on the surface a few moments, acting as if he was out of
+breath. He weighed about one hundred and fifty, and was a particularly
+beautiful specimen. The hook showed in the corner of his mouth. He did
+not have a scratch on his graceful bronze and purple and silver body. I
+waved my hat at him and then he slowly sank.
+
+"What next?" I demanded. "This can't keep up. Something is going to
+happen."
+
+But my apprehension in no wise disturbed R. C. or Captain Dan.
+
+They proceeded to bait up again, to put out the teasers, to begin to
+troll; and then almost at once a greedy swordfish appeared, absolutely
+fearless and determined. R. C. hooked him. The first leap showed the
+Marlin to be the smallest of the day so far. But what he lacked in
+weight he made up in activity. He was a great performer, and his forte
+appeared to be turning upside down in the air. He leaped clear
+twenty-two times. Then he settled down and tried to plug out to sea.
+Alas! that human steam-winch at the rod drew him right up to the boat,
+where he looked to weigh about one hundred and twenty-five pounds.
+
+ [Illustration: 328-POUND RECORD MARLIN BY R. C. GREY. SHAPELIEST AND
+ MOST BEAUTIFUL SPECIMEN EVER TAKEN]
+
+ [Illustration: SUNSET OVER CLEMENTE CHANNEL]
+
+"Six!" I exclaimed, as we watched the freed fish swim away. "That's the
+record.... And all let go alive--unhurt.... Do you suppose any one will
+believe us?"
+
+"It doesn't make any difference," remarked my brother. "We know. That's
+the best of the game--letting the fish go alive."
+
+"Come on!" boomed Dan, with a big flying-fish in his hands. "You're not
+tired."
+
+"Yes, I am tired," replied R. C.
+
+"It's early yet," I put in. "We'll cinch the record for good. Grab the
+rod. I'll enjoy the work for you."
+
+R. C. resigned himself, not without some remarks anent the insatiable
+nature of his host and boatman.
+
+We were now off the east end of Clemente Island, that bleak and ragged
+corner where the sea, whether calm or stormy, contended eternally with
+the black rocks, and where the green and white movement of waves was
+never still. When almost two hundred yards off the yellow kelp-beds I
+saw a shadow darker than the blue water. It seemed to follow the boat,
+rather deep down and far back. But it moved. I was on my feet,
+thrilling.
+
+"That's a swordfish!" I called.
+
+"No," replied R. C.
+
+"Some wavin' kelp, mebbe," added Dan, doubtfully.
+
+"Slow up a little," I returned. "I see purple."
+
+Captain Dan complied and we all watched. We all saw an enormous colorful
+body loom up, take the shape of a fish, come back of R. C.'s bait, hit
+it and take it.
+
+"By George!" breathed R. C., tensely. His line slowly slipped out a
+little, then stopped.
+
+"He's let go," said my brother.
+
+"There's another one," cried Dan.
+
+With that I saw what appeared to be another swordfish, deeper down,
+moving slowly. This one also looked huge to me. He was right under the
+teasers. It dawned upon me that he must have an eye on them, so I began
+to pull them in.
+
+As they came in the purple shadow seemed to rise. It was a swordfish and
+he resembled a gunboat with purple outriggers. Slowly he came onward and
+upward, a wonderful sight.
+
+"Wind your bait in!" I yelled to R. C.
+
+Suddenly Dan became like a jumping-jack. "He's got your hook," he
+shouted to my brother. "He's had it all the time."
+
+The swordfish swam now right under the stern of the boat so that I could
+look down upon him. He was deep down, but not too deep to look huge.
+Then I saw R. C.'s leader in his mouth. He had swallowed the flying-fish
+bait and had followed us for the teasers. The fact was stunning. R. C.,
+who had been winding in, soon found out that his line went straight
+down. He felt the fish. Then with all his might he jerked to hook that
+swordfish.
+
+Just then, for an instant my mind refused to work swiftly. It was locked
+round some sense of awful expectancy. I remembered my camera in my
+hands and pointed it where I expected something wonderful about to
+happen.
+
+The water on the right, close to the stern, bulged and burst with a
+roar. Upward even with us, above us, shot a tremendously large, shiny
+fish, shaking and wagging, with heavy slap of gills.
+
+Water deluged the boat, but missed me. I actually smelled that fish, he
+was so close. What must surely have been terror for me, had I actually
+seen and realized the peril, gave place to flashing thought of the one
+and great chance for a wonderful picture of a big swordfish close to the
+boat. That gripped me. While I changed the focus on my camera I missed
+seeing the next two jumps. But I heard the heavy sousing splashes and
+the yells of Dan and R. C., with the shrill screams of the ladies.
+
+When I did look up to try to photograph the next leap of the swordfish I
+saw him, close at hand, monstrous and animated, in a surging,
+up-sweeping splash. I heard the hiss of the boiling foam. He lunged
+away, churning the water like a sudden whirl of a ferryboat wheel, and
+then he turned squarely at us. Even then Captain Dan's yell did not warn
+us. I felt rather than saw that he had put on full speed ahead. The
+swordfish dove toward us, went under, came up in a two-sheeted white
+splash, and rose high and higher, to fall with a cracking sound. Like a
+flash of light he shot up again, and began wagging his huge
+purple-barred body, lifting himself still higher, until all but his tail
+stood ponderously above the surface; and then, incredibly powerful, he
+wagged and lashed upright in a sea of hissing foam, mouth open wide,
+blood streaming down his wet sides and flying in red spray from his
+slapping gills--a wonderful and hair-raising spectacle. He stayed up
+only what seemed a moment. During this action and when he began again to
+leap and smash toward us, I snapped my camera three times upon him. But
+I missed seeing some of his greatest leaps because I had to look at the
+camera while operating it.
+
+"Get back!" yelled Dan, hoarsely.
+
+I was so excited I did not see the danger of the swordfish coming
+aboard. But Captain Dan did. He swept the girls back into the cabin
+doorway, and pushed Mrs. R. C. into a back corner of the cockpit.
+Strange it seemed to me how pale Dan was!
+
+The swordfish made long, swift leaps right at the boat. On the last he
+hit us on the stern, but too low to come aboard. Six feet closer to us
+would have landed that huge, maddened swordfish right in the cockpit!
+But he thumped back, and the roar of his mighty tail on the water so
+close suddenly appalled me. I seemed to grasp how near he had come
+aboard at the same instant that I associated the power of his tail with
+a havoc he would have executed in the boat. It flashed over me that he
+would weigh far over three hundred.
+
+When he thumped back the water rose in a sounding splash, deluging us
+and leaving six inches in the cockpit. He sheered off astern, sliding
+over the water in two streaks of white running spray, and then up he
+rose again in a magnificent wild leap. He appeared maddened with pain
+and fright and instinct to preserve his life.
+
+Again the fish turned right at us. This instant was the most
+terrifying. Not a word from R. C.! But out of the tail of my eye I saw
+him crouch, ready to leap. He grimly held on to his rod, but there had
+not been a tight line on it since he struck the fish.
+
+Yelling warningly, Captain Dan threw the wheel hard over. But that
+seemed of no use. We could not lose the swordfish.
+
+He made two dives into the air, and the next one missed us by a yard,
+and showed his great, glistening, striped body, thick as a barrel, and
+curved with terrible speed and power, right alongside the cockpit. He
+passed us, and as the boat answered to the wheel and turned, almost at
+right angles, the swordfish sheered too, and he hit us a sounding thud
+somewhere foreward. Then he went under or around the bow and began to
+take line off the reel for the first time. I gave him up. The line
+caught all along the side of the boat. But it did not break, and kept
+whizzing off the reel. I heard the heavy splash of another jump. When we
+had turned clear round, what was our amaze and terror to see the
+swordfish, seemingly more tigerish than ever, thresh and tear and leap
+at us again. He was flinging bloody spray and wigwagging his huge body,
+so that there was a deep, rough splashing furrow in the sea behind him.
+I had never known any other fish so fast, so powerful, so wild with
+fury, so instinct with tremendous energy and life. Dan again threw all
+his weight on the wheel. The helm answered, the boat swung, and the
+swordfish missed hitting us square. But he glanced along the port side,
+like a toboggan down-hill, and he seemed to ricochet over the water. His
+tail made deep, solid thumps. Then about a hundred feet astern he
+turned in his own length, making a maelstrom of green splash and white
+spray, out of which he rose three-quarters of his huge body,
+purple-blazed, tiger-striped, spear-pointed, and, with the sea boiling
+white around him, he spun around, creating an indescribable picture of
+untamed ferocity and wild life and incomparable beauty. Then down he
+splashed with a sullen roar, leaving a red foam on the white.
+
+That appeared the end of his pyrotechnics. It had been only a few
+moments. He began to swim off slowly and heavily. We followed. After a
+few tense moments it became evident that his terrible surface work had
+weakened him, probably bursting his gills, from which his life-blood
+escaped.
+
+We all breathed freer then. Captain Dan left the wheel, mopping his
+pale, wet face. He gazed at me to see if I had realized our peril. With
+the excitement over, I began to realize. I felt a little shaky then. The
+ladies were all talking at once, still glowing with excitement. Easy to
+see they had not appreciated the danger! But Captain Dan and I knew that
+if the swordfish had come aboard--which he certainly would have done had
+he ever slipped his head over the gunwale--there would have been a
+tragedy on the _Leta D._
+
+"I never knew just how easy it could happen," said Dan. "No one ever
+before hooked a big fish right under the boat."
+
+"With that weight, that tail, right after being hooked, he would have
+killed some of us and wrecked the boat!" I exclaimed, aghast.
+
+"Well, I had him figured to come into the boat and I was ready to jump
+overboard," added my brother.
+
+"We won't cut him loose," said Dan. "That's some fish. But he acts like
+he isn't goin' to last long."
+
+Still, it took two hours longer of persistent, final effort on the part
+of R. C. to bring this swordfish to gaff. We could not lift the fish up
+on the stern and we had to tow him over to Mr. Jump's boat and there
+haul him aboard by block and tackle. At Avalon he weighed three hundred
+and twenty-eight pounds.
+
+R. C. had caught the biggest Marlin in 1916--three hundred and four
+pounds, and this three-hundred-and-twenty-eight-pound fish was the
+largest for 1918. Besides, there was the remarkable achievement and
+record of seven swordfish in one day, with six of them freed to live and
+roam the sea again. But R. C. was not impressed. He looked at his hands
+and said:
+
+"You and Dan put a job up on me.... Never again!"
+
+
+
+
+XII
+
+RANDOM NOTES
+
+
+                         AVALON, _July 1, 1918_.
+
+Cool, foggy morning; calm sea up until one o'clock, then a west wind
+that roughened the water white. No strikes. Did not see a fish. Trolled
+with kite up to the Isthmus and back. When the sun came out its warmth
+was very pleasant. The slopes seemed good to look at--so steep and
+yellow-gray with green spots, and long slides running down to the shore.
+The tips of the hills were lost in the fog. It was lonely on the sea,
+and I began again to feel the splendor and comfort of the open spaces,
+the free winds, the canopy of gray and blue, the tidings from afar.
+
+                         _July 3d._
+
+Foggy morning; pale line of silver on eastern horizon; swell, but no
+wind. Warm. After a couple of hours fog disintegrated. Saw a big Marlin
+swordfish. Worked him three times, then charged him. No use!
+
+Gradually rising wind. Ran up off Long Point and back. At 3:30 was
+tired. We saw a school of tuna on the surface. Flew the kite over them.
+One big fellow came clear out on his side and got the hook. He made one
+long run, then came in rather easily. Time, fifteen minutes. He was
+badly hooked. Seventy-eight pounds.
+
+We trolled then until late afternoon. I saw some splashes far out. Tuna!
+We ran up. Found patches of anchovies. I had a strike. Tuna hooked
+himself and got off. We tried again. I had another come clear out in a
+smashing charge. He ran off heavy and fast. It took fifty minutes of
+very hard work to get him in. He weaved back of the boat for half an
+hour and gave me a severe battle. He was hooked in the corner of the
+mouth and was a game, fine fish. Seventy-three and one-half pounds.
+
+                         _July 6th._
+
+Started out early. Calm, cool, foggy morning; rather dark. Sea smooth,
+swelling, heaving. Mysterious, like a shadowed opal. Long mounds of
+water waved noiselessly, wonderfully, ethereally from the distance, and
+the air was hazy, veiled, and dim. A lonely, silent vastness.
+
+We saw several schools of tuna, but got no strikes. Worked a Marlin
+swordfish, but he would not notice the bait.
+
+It was a long, hard day on the sea.
+
+                         _July 10th._
+
+We got off at 6:30 before the other boats. Smooth water. Little breeze.
+Saw a school of tuna above Long Point. Put up the kite. The school went
+down. But R. C. got a little strike. Did not hook fish.
+
+Then we sighted a big school working east. We followed it, running into
+a light wind. Kite blew O. K. and R. C. got one fish (seventy-one
+pounds), then another (forty-eight pounds). They put up fair fights.
+
+Then I tried light tackle. All the time the school traveled east, going
+down and coming up. The first fish that charged my bait came clear out
+after it. He got it and rushed away. I had the light drag on, and I did
+not thumb the pad hard, but the tuna broke the line. We tried again. Had
+another thrilling strike. The fish threw the hook. We had to pull in the
+kite, put up another one--get it out, and all the time keep the school
+in sight. The tuna traveled fast. The third try on light tackle resulted
+in another fine strike, and another tuna that broke the line.
+
+Then R. C. tried the heavy tackle again, and lost a fish.
+
+When my turn came I was soon fast to a hard-fighting fish, but he did
+not stay with me long. This discouraged me greatly.
+
+Then R. C. took his rod once more. It was thrilling to run down on the
+school and skip a flying-fish before the leaders as they rolled along,
+fins out, silver sides showing, raising little swells and leaving a
+dark, winkling, dimpling wake behind them. When the bait got just right
+a larger tuna charged furiously, throwing up a great splash. He hit the
+bait, and threw the hook before R. C. could strike hard.
+
+We had nine bites out of this school. Followed it fifteen miles. Twice
+we were worried by other boats, but for the rest of the time had the
+school alone.
+
+                         _July 11th._
+
+Morning was cold, foggy, raw. East wind. Disagreeable. Trolled out about
+six miles and all around. Finally ran in off east end, where I caught a
+yellow-fin. The sun came up, but the east wind persisted. No fish. Came
+in early.
+
+                         _July 12th._
+
+Went out early. Clear morning. Cool. Rippling sea. Fog rolled down like
+a pale-gray wall. Misty, veiled, vague, strange, opaque, silent, wet,
+cold, heavy! It enveloped us. Then we went out of the bank into a great
+circle, clear and bright, with heaving, smooth sea, surrounded by fog.
+
+After an hour or two the fog rose and drifted away.
+
+We trolled nine hours. Three little fish struck at the bait, but did not
+get the hook.
+
+                         _August 6th._
+
+To-day I went out alone with Dan. Wonderful sea. Very long, wide, deep,
+heaving swells, beautiful and exhilarating to watch. No wind. Not very
+foggy. Sunshine now and then. I watched the sea--marveled at its grace,
+softness, dimpled dark beauty, its vast, imponderable racing, its
+restless heaving, its eternal motion. I learned from it. I found
+loneliness, peace.
+
+Saw a great school of porpoises coming. Ran toward them. About five
+hundred all crashing in and out of the great swells, making a spectacle
+of rare sea action and color and beauty. They surrounded the bow of the
+boat, and then pandemonium broke loose. They turned to play with us,
+racing, diving, leaping, shooting--all for our delight. I stood right
+up on the bow and could see deep. It was an unforgetable experience.
+
+                         _August 7th._
+
+Long run to-day, over eighty miles. East to Point Vincent, west to end
+of Catalina, then all around. Fine sea and weather. Just right for kite.
+Saw many ducks and a great number of big sharks. The ducks were
+traveling west, the sharks east. We saw no tuna.
+
+Coming back the wind sprang up and we had a following sea. It was fine
+to watch the green-and-white rollers breaking behind us.
+
+The tuna appear to be working farther and farther off the east end.
+Marlin swordfish have showed up off the east end. Three caught yesterday
+and one to-day. I have not yet seen a broadbill, and fear none are
+coming this year.
+
+                         _August 8th._
+
+Went off east end. Had a Marlin strike. The fish missed the hook. A
+shark took the bait. When it was pulled in to the gaff Captain Dan
+caught the leader, drew the shark up, and it savagely bit the boat. Then
+it gave a flop and snapped Captain Dan's hand.
+
+I was frightened. The captain yelled for me to hit the shark with a
+club. I did not lose a second. The shark let go. We killed it, and found
+Dan's hand badly lacerated. My swiftness of action saved Dan's hand.
+
+
+
+
+XII
+
+BIG TUNA
+
+
+It took me five seasons at Catalina to catch a big tuna, and the event
+was so thrilling that I had to write to my fisherman friends about it.
+The result of my effusions seem rather dubious. Robert H. Davis, editor
+of _Munsey's_, replies in this wise: "If you went out with a
+mosquito-net to catch a mess of minnows your story would read like Roman
+gladiators seining the Tigris for whales." Now, I am at a loss to know
+how to take that compliment. Davis goes on to say more, and he also
+quotes me: "You say 'the hard, diving fight of a tuna liberates the
+brute instinct in a man.' Well, Zane, it also liberates the qualities of
+a liar!" Davis does not love the sweet, soft scent that breathes from
+off the sea. Once on the Jersey coast I went tuna-fishing with him. He
+was not happy on the boat. But once he came up out of the cabin with a
+jaunty feather in his hat. I admired it. I said:
+
+"Bob, I'll have to get something like that for my hat."
+
+"Zane," he replied, piercingly, "what you need for your hat is a head!"
+
+My friend Joe Bray, who publishes books in Chicago, also reacts
+peculiarly to my fish stories. He writes me a satiric, doubting
+letter--then shuts up his office and rushes for some river or lake.
+Will Dilg, the famous fly-caster, upon receipt of my communication,
+wrote me a nine-page prose-poem epic about the only fish in the
+world--black-bass. Professor Kellogg always falls ill and takes a
+vacation, during which he writes me that I have not mental capacity to
+appreciate my luck.
+
+These fellows will illustrate how my friends receive angling news from
+me. I ought to have sense enough to keep my stories for publication. I
+strongly suspect that their strange reaction to my friendly feeling is
+because I have caught more and larger black-bass than they ever saw.
+Some day I will go back to the swift streams and deep lakes, where the
+bronze-backs live, and fish with my friends, and then they will realize
+that I never lie about the sport and beauty and wonder of the great
+outdoors.
+
+Every season for the five years that I have been visiting Avalon there
+has been a run of tuna. But the average weight was from sixty to
+ninety-five pounds. Until this season only a very few big tuna had been
+taken. The prestige of the Tuna Club, the bragging of the old members,
+the gossip of the boatmen--all tend to make a fisherman feel small until
+he has landed a big one. Come to think of it, considering the years of
+the Tuna Club fame, not so very many anglers have captured a blue-button
+tuna. I vowed I did not care in particular about it, but whenever we ran
+across a school of tuna I acted like a boy.
+
+A good many tuna fell to my rod during these seasons. During the
+present season, to be exact, I caught twenty-two. This is no large
+number for two months' fishing. Boschen caught about one hundred; Jump,
+eighty-four; Hooper, sixty. Among these tuna I fought were three that
+stand out strikingly. One seventy-three-pounder took fifty minutes of
+hard fighting to subdue; a ninety-one-pounder took one hour fifty; and
+the third, after two hours and fifty minutes, got away. It seems, and
+was proved later, that the number fifty figured every time I hooked one
+of the long, slim, hard-fighting male tuna.
+
+Beginning late in June, for six weeks tuna were caught almost every day,
+some days a large number being taken. But big ones were scarce. Then one
+of the Tuna Club anglers began to bring in tuna that weighed well over
+one hundred pounds. This fact inspired all the anglers. He would slip
+out early in the morning and return late at night. Nobody knew where his
+boatman was finding these fish. More than one boatman tried to follow
+him, but in vain. Quite by accident it was discovered that he ran up on
+the north side of the island, clear round the west end. When he was
+discovered on the west side he at once steered toward Clemente Island,
+evidently hoping to mislead his followers. This might have succeeded but
+for the fact that both Bandini and Adams hooked big tuna before they had
+gone a mile. Then the jig was up. That night Adams came in with a
+one-hundred-and-twenty-and a one-hundred-and-thirty-six-pound tuna, and
+Bandini brought the record for this season--one hundred and forty-nine
+pounds.
+
+Next day we were all out there on the west side, a few miles offshore.
+The ocean appeared to be full of blackfish. They are huge, black marine
+creatures, similar to a porpoise in movement, but many times larger, and
+they have round, blunt noses that look like battering-rams. Some seemed
+as big as gunboats, and when they heaved up on the swells we could see
+the white stripes below the black. I was inclined to the belief that
+this species was the orca, a whale-killing fish. Boatmen and deep-sea
+men report these blackfish to be dangerous and had better be left alone.
+They certainly looked ugly. We believed they were chasing tuna.
+
+The channel that day contained more whales than I ever saw before at one
+time. We counted six pairs in sight. I saw as many as four of the
+funnel-like whale spouts of water on the horizon at once. It was very
+interesting to watch these monsters of the deep. Once when we were all
+on top of the boat we ran almost right upon two whales. The first
+spouted about fifty feet away. The sea seemed to open up, a terrible
+roar issued forth, then came a cloud of spray and rush of water. Then we
+saw another whale just rising a few yards ahead. My hair stood up stiff.
+Captain Dan yelled, leaped down to reverse the engine. The whale saw us
+and swerved. Dan's action and the quickness of the whale prevented a
+collision. As it was, I looked down in the clear water and saw the huge,
+gleaming, gray body of the whale as he passed. That was another sight to
+record in the book of memory. The great flukes of his tail moved with
+surprising swiftness and the water bulged on the surface. Then we ran
+close to the neighborhood of a school of whales, evidently feeding. They
+would come up and blow, and then sound. To see a whale sound and then
+raise his great, broad, shining flukes in the air, high above the water,
+is in my opinion the most beautiful spectacle to be encountered upon the
+ocean. Up to this day, during five seasons, I had seen three whales
+sound with tails in the air. And upon this occasion I had the exceeding
+good fortune to see seven. I tried to photograph one. We followed a big
+bull. When he came up to blow we saw a yellow moving space on the water,
+then a round, gray, glistening surface, then a rugged snout. Puff! His
+blow was a roar. He rolled on, downward a little; the water surged white
+and green. When he came up to sound he humped his huge back. It was
+shiny, leathery, wonderfully supple. It bent higher and higher in an
+arch. Then this great curve seemed to slide swiftly out of sight and his
+wonderful tail, flat as a floor and wide as a house, emerged to swing
+aloft. The water ran off it in sheets. Then it waved higher, and with
+slow, graceful, ponderous motion sank into the sea. That sight more than
+anything impressed me with the immensity of the ocean, with its mystery
+of life, with the unattainable secrets of the deep.
+
+The tuna appeared to be scattered, and none were on the surface. I had
+one strike that plowed up the sea, showing the difference between the
+strike of a big tuna and that of a little one. He broke my line on the
+first rush. Then I hooked another and managed to stop him. I had a
+grueling battle with him, and at the end of two hours and fifty minutes
+he broke my hook. This was a disappointment far beyond reason, but I
+could not help it.
+
+Next day was windy. The one following we could not find the fish, and
+the third day we all concluded they had gone for 1918. I think the fame
+of tuna, the uncertainty of their appearance, the difficulty of
+capturing a big one, are what excite the ambition of anglers. Long
+effort to that end, and consequent thinking and planning and feeling,
+bring about a condition of mind that will be made clear as this story
+progresses.
+
+But Captain Danielson did not give up. The fifth day we ran off the west
+side with several other boats, and roamed the sea in search of fins. No
+anchovies on the surface, no sheerwater ducks, no sharks, nothing to
+indicate tuna. About one o'clock Captain Dan sheered southwest and we
+ran sixteen miles toward Clemente Island.
+
+It was a perfect day, warm, hazy, with light fog, smooth, heaving,
+opalescent sea. There was no wind. At two thirty not one of the other
+boats was in sight. At two forty Captain Dan sighted a large, dark,
+rippling patch on the water. We ran over closer.
+
+"School of tuna!" exclaimed the captain, with excitement. "Big fish! Oh,
+for some wind now to fly the kite!"
+
+"There's another school," said my brother, R. C., and he pointed to a
+second darkly gleaming spot on the smooth sea.
+
+"I've spotted one, too!" I shouted.
+
+"The ocean's alive with tuna--big tuna!" boomed Captain Dan. "Here we
+are alone, blue-button fish everywhere--and no wind."
+
+"We'll watch the fish and wait for wind," I said.
+
+This situation may not present anything remarkable to most fishermen.
+But we who knew the game realized at once that this was an experience of
+a lifetime. We counted ten schools of tuna near at hand, and there were
+so many farther on that they seemed to cover the sea.
+
+"Boys," said Captain Dan, "here's the tuna we heard were at Anacapa
+Island last week. The Japs netted hundreds of tons. They're working
+southeast, right in the middle of the channel, and haven't been inshore
+at all. It's ninety miles to Anacapa. Some traveling!... That school
+close to us is the biggest school I ever saw and I believe they're the
+biggest fish."
+
+"Run closer to them," I said to him.
+
+We ran over within fifty feet of the edge of the school, stopped the
+boat, and all climbed up on top of the deck.
+
+Then we beheld a spectacle calculated to thrill the most phlegmatic
+fisherman. It simply enraptured me, and I think I am still too close to
+it to describe it well. The dark-blue water, heaving in great, low, lazy
+swells, showed a roughened spot of perhaps two acres in extent. The sun,
+shining over our shoulders, caught silvery-green gleams of fish,
+flashing wide and changing to blue. Long, round, bronze backs deep under
+the surface, caught the sunlight. Blue fins and tails, sharp and curved,
+like sabers, cleared the water. Here a huge tuna would turn on his side,
+gleaming broad and bright, and there another would roll on the surface,
+breaking water like a tarpon with a slow, heavy souse.
+
+"Look at the leaders," said Captain Dan. "I'll bet they're
+three-hundred-pound fish."
+
+I saw then that the school, lazy as they seemed, were slowly following
+the leaders, rolling and riding the swells. These leaders threw up
+surges and ridges on the surface. They plowed the water.
+
+"What'd happen if we skipped a flying-fish across the water in front of
+those leaders?" I asked Captain Dan.
+
+He threw up his hands. "You'd see a German torpedo explode."
+
+"Say! tuna are no relation to Huns!" put in my brother.
+
+It took only a few moments for the school to drift by us. Then we ran
+over to another school, with the same experience. In this way we visited
+several of these near-by schools, all of which were composed of large
+tuna. Captain Dan, however, said he believed the first two schools,
+evidently leaders of this vast sea of tuna, contained the largest fish.
+For half an hour we fooled around, watching the schools and praying for
+wind to fly the kite. Captain Dan finally trolled our baits through one
+school, which sank without rewarding us with a strike.
+
+At this juncture I saw a tiny speck of a boat way out on the horizon.
+Captain Dan said it was Shorty's boat with Adams. I suggested that, as
+we had to wait for wind to fly the kite, we run in and attract Shorty's
+attention. I certainly wanted some one else to see those magnificent
+schools of tuna. Forthwith we ran in several miles until we attracted
+the attention of the boatman Captain Dan had taken to be Shorty. But it
+turned out to be somebody else, and my good intentions also turned out
+to my misfortune.
+
+Then we ran back toward the schools of tuna. On the way my brother
+hooked a Marlin swordfish that leaped thirty-five times and got away.
+After all those leaps he deserved to shake the hook. We found the tuna
+milling and lolling around, slowly drifting and heading toward the
+southeast. We also found a very light breeze had begun to come out of
+the west. Captain Dan wanted to try to get the kite up, but I objected
+on the score that if we could fly it at all it would only be to drag a
+bait behind the boat. That would necessitate running through the schools
+of tuna, and as I believed this would put them down, I wanted to wait
+for enough wind to drag a bait at right angles with the boat. This is
+the proper procedure, because it enables an angler to place his bait
+over a school of tuna at a hundred yards or more from the boat. It
+certainly is the most beautiful and thrilling way to get a strike.
+
+So we waited. The boatman whose attention we had attracted had now come
+up and was approaching the schools of tuna some distance below us. He
+put out a kite that just barely flew off the water and it followed
+directly in the wake of his boat. We watched this with disgust, but
+considerable interest, and we were amazed to see one of the anglers in
+that boat get a strike and hook a fish.
+
+That put us all in a blaze of excitement. Still we thought the strike
+they got might just have been lucky. In running down farther, so we
+could come back against the light breeze, we ran pretty close to the
+school out of which the strike had been gotten. Captain Dan stood up to
+take a good look.
+
+"They're hundred-pounders, all right," he said. "But they're not as big
+as the tuna in those two leading schools. I'm glad those ginks in that
+boat are tied up with a tuna for a spell."
+
+I took a look at the fisherman who was fighting the tuna. Certainly I
+did not begrudge him one, but somehow, so strange are the feelings of a
+fisherman that I was mightily pleased to see that he was a novice at the
+game, was having his troubles, and would no doubt be a long, long time
+landing his tuna. My blood ran cold at the thought of other anglers
+appearing on the scene, and anxiously I scanned the horizon. No boat in
+sight! If I had only known then what sad experience taught me that
+afternoon I would have been tickled to pieces to see all the great
+fishermen of Avalon tackle this school of big tuna.
+
+Captain Dan got a kite up a little better than I had hoped for. It was
+not good, but it was worth trying. My bait, even on a turn of the boat,
+skipped along just at the edge of the wake of the boat. And the wake of
+a boat will almost always put a school of tuna down.
+
+We headed for the second school. My thrilling expectancy was tinged and
+spoiled with doubt. I skipped my bait in imitation of a flying-fish
+leaping and splashing along. We reached the outer edge of the school.
+Slowly the little boils smoothed out. Slowly the big fins sank. So did
+my heart. We passed the school. They all sank. And then when Captain Dan
+swore and I gave up there came a great splash back of my bait. I yelled
+and my comrades echoed me. The tuna missed. I skipped the bait. A
+sousing splash--and another tuna had my bait. My line sagged. I jerked
+hard. But too late! The tuna threw the hook before it got a hold.
+
+"They're hungry!" exclaimed Dan. "Hurry--reel the kite in. We'll get
+another bait on quick.... Look! that school is coming up again! They're
+not shy of boats. Boys, there's something doing."
+
+Captain Dan's excitement augmented my own. I sensed an unusual
+experience that had never before befallen me.
+
+The school of largest fish was farther to the west. The breeze lulled.
+We could not fly the kite except with the motion and direction of the
+boat. It was exasperating. When we got close the kite flopped down into
+the water. Captain Dan used language. We ran back, picked up the kite.
+It was soaked, of course, and would not fly. While Dan got out a new
+kite, a large silk one which we had not tried yet, we ran down to the
+eastward of the second school. To our surprise and delight this untried
+kite flew well without almost any wind.
+
+We got in position and headed for the school. I was using a big hook
+half embedded near the tail of the flying-fish and the leader ran
+through the bait. It worked beautifully. A little jerk of my rod sent
+the bait skittering over the water, for all the world like a live
+flying-fish. I knew now that I would get another strike. Just as we
+reached a point almost opposite the school of tuna they headed across
+our bow, so that it seemed inevitable we must either run them down or
+run too close. My spirit sank to zero. Something presaged bad luck. I
+sensed disaster. I fought the feeling, but it persisted. Captain Dan
+swore. My brother shouted warnings from over us where he sat on top. But
+we ran right into the leaders. The school sank. I was sick and furious.
+
+"Jump your bait! It's not too late," called Dan.
+
+I did so. Smash! The water seemed to curl white and smoke. A tuna had my
+bait. I jerked. I felt him. He threw the hook. Half the bait remained
+upon it. Smash! A great boil and splash! Another tuna had that. I tried
+to jerk. But both kite and tuna pulling made my effort feeble. This one
+also threw out the hook. It came out with a small piece of mangled red
+flying-fish still hanging to it. Instinctively I jumped that remains of
+my bait over the surface. Smash! The third tuna cleaned the hook.
+
+Captain Dan waxed eloquent and profane.
+
+My brother said, "What do you know about that?"
+
+As for myself, I was stunned one second and dazzled the next. Three
+strikes on one bait! It seemed disaster still clogged my mind, but what
+had already happened was new and wonderful. Half a mile below us I saw
+the angler still fighting the tuna he had hooked. I wanted him to get
+it, but I hoped he would be all afternoon on the job.
+
+"Hurry, Cap!" was all I said.
+
+Ordinarily Dan is the swiftest of boatmen. To-day he was slower than
+molasses and all he did went wrong. What he said about the luck was more
+than melancholy. I had no way to gauge my own feelings because I had
+never had such an experience before. Nor had I ever heard or read of any
+one having it.
+
+We got a bait on and the kite out just in time to reach the first and
+larger school. I was so excited that I did not see we were heading right
+into it. My intent gaze was riveted upon my bait as it skimmed the
+surface. The swells were long, low, smooth mounds. My bait went out of
+sight behind one. It was then I saw water fly high and I felt a tug. I
+jerked so hard I nearly fell over. My bait shot over the top of the
+swell. Then that swell opened and burst--a bronze back appeared. He
+missed the hook. Another tuna, also missing, leaped into the air--a fish
+of one hundred and fifty pounds, glittering green and silver and blue,
+jaws open, fins stiff, tail quivering, clear and clean-cut above the
+surface. Again we all yelled. Actually before he fell there was another
+smash and another tuna had my bait. This one I hooked. His rush was
+irresistible. I released the drag on the reel. It whirled and whizzed.
+The line threw a fine spray into my face. Then the tip of my rod flew up
+with a jerk, the line slacked. We all knew what that meant. I reeled in.
+The line had broken above the few feet of double line which we always
+used next the leader. More than ever disaster loomed over me. The
+feeling was unshakable now.
+
+Nevertheless, I realized that wonderful good fortune attended us in the
+fact that the school of big tuna had scarcely any noticeable fear of the
+boat; they would not stay down, and they were ravenous.
+
+On our next run down upon them I had a smashing strike. The tuna threw
+the hook. Another got the bait and I hooked him. He sounded. The line
+broke. We tried again. No sooner had we reached the school when the
+water boiled and foamed at my bait. Before I could move that tuna
+cleaned the hook. Our next attempt gained another sousing strike. But he
+was so swift and I was so slow that I could not fasten to him.
+
+"He went away from here," my brother said, with what he meant for
+comedy. But it was not funny.
+
+Captain Dan then put on a double hook, embedding it so one hook stood
+clear of the bait. We tested my line with the scales and it broke at
+fifty-three pounds, which meant it was a good strong line. The breeze
+lulled and fanned at intervals. It seemed, however, we did not need any
+breeze. We had edged our school of big tuna away from the other schools,
+and it was milling on the surface, lazily and indifferently. But what
+latent speed and power lay hidden in that mass of lolling tuna.
+
+R. C. from his perch above yelled: "Look out! You're going to drag your
+bait in front of the leaders this time!"
+
+That had not happened yet. I glowed in spite of the fact that I was
+steeped in gloom. We were indeed heading most favorably for the leaders.
+Captain Dan groaned. "Never seen the like of this!" he added. These
+leaders were several yards apart, as could be told by the blunt-nosed
+ridges of water they shoved ahead of them. That was another moment added
+to the memorable moments of my fishing years. It was strained suspense.
+Hope would not die, but disaster loomed like a shadow.
+
+Before I was ready, before we expected anything, before we got near
+these leaders, a brilliant, hissing, white splash burst out of the sea,
+and a tuna of magnificent proportions shot broadside along and above the
+surface, sending the spray aloft, and he hit that bait with incredible
+swiftness, raising a twenty-foot-square, furious splash as he hooked
+himself. I sat spellbound. I heard my line whistling off the reel. But I
+saw only that swift-descending kite. So swiftly did the tuna sound that
+the kite shot down as if it had been dropping lead. My line broke and my
+rod almost leaped out of my hands.
+
+We were all silent a moment. The school of tuna showed again, puttering
+and fiddling around, with great blue-and-green flashes caught by the
+sun.
+
+"That one weighed about two hundred and fifty," was all Captain Dan
+said.
+
+R. C. remarked facetiously, evidently to cheer me, "Jakey, you picks de
+shots out of that plue jay an' we makes ready for anudder one!"
+
+"Say, do you imagine you can make me laugh!" I asked, in tragic scorn.
+
+"Well, if you could have seen yourself when that tuna struck you'd have
+laughed," replied he.
+
+While Dan steered the boat R. C. got out on the bow and gaffed the kite.
+I watched the tuna tails standing like half-simitars out of the smooth,
+colored water. The sun was setting in a golden haze spotted by pink
+clouds. The wind, if anything, was softer than ever; in fact, we could
+not feel it unless we headed the boat into it. The fellow below us was
+drifting off farther, still plugging at his tuna.
+
+Captain Dan put the wet kite on the deck to dry and got out another
+silk one. It soared aloft so easily that I imagined our luck was
+changing. Vain fisherman's delusion! Nothing could do that. There were
+thousands of tons--actually thousands of tons of tuna in that three-mile
+stretch of ruffled water, but I could not catch one. It was a settled
+conviction. I was reminded of what Enos, the Portuguese boatman,
+complained to an angler he had out, "You mos' unluck' fisherman I ever
+see!"
+
+We tried a shorter kite-line and a shorter length of my line, and we ran
+down upon that mess of tuna once more. It was strange--and foolish--how
+we stuck to that school of biggest fish. This time Dan headed right into
+the thick of them. Out of the corners of my eyes I seemed to see tuna
+settling down all around. Suddenly my brother yelled.
+
+Zam! That was a huge loud splash back of my bait. The tuna missed. R. C.
+yelled again. Captain Dan followed suit:
+
+"He's after it!... Oh, he's the biggest yet!"
+
+Then I saw a huge tuna wallowing in a surge round my bait. He heaved up,
+round and big as a barrel, flashing a wide bar of blue-green, and he got
+the hook. If he had been strangely slow he was now unbelievably swift.
+His size gave me panic. I never moved, and he hooked himself. Straight
+down he shot and the line broke.
+
+My brother's sympathy now was as sincere as Captain Dan's misery. I
+asked R. C. to take the rod and see if he could do better.
+
+"Not much!" he replied. "When you get one, then I'll try. Stay with 'em,
+now!"
+
+Not improbably I would have stayed out until the tuna quit if that had
+taken all night. Three more times we put up the kite--three more
+flying-fish we wired on the double hooks--three more runs we made
+through that tantalizing school of tuna that grew huger and swifter and
+more impossible--three more smashing wide breaks of water on the
+strike--and quicker than a flash three more broken lines!
+
+I imagined I was resigned. My words to my silent comrades were even
+cheerful.
+
+"Come on. Try again. Where there's life there's hope. It's an
+exceedingly rare experience--anyway. After all, nothing depends upon my
+catching one of these tuna. It doesn't matter."
+
+All of which attested to the singular state of my mind.
+
+Another kite, another leader and double hook, another bait had to be
+arranged. This took time. My impatience, my nervousness were hard to
+restrain. Captain Dan was pale and grim. I do not know how I looked.
+Only R. C. no longer looked at me.
+
+As we put out the bait we made the discovery that the other anglers, no
+doubt having ended their fight, were running down upon our particular
+school of tuna. This was in line with our luck. Other schools of tuna
+were in sight, but these fellows had to head for ours. It galled me when
+I thought how sportsman-like I had been to attract their attention. We
+aimed to head them off and reach the school first. As we were the
+closest all augured well for our success. But gloom invested whatever
+hopes I had.
+
+We beat the other boat. We had just gotten our boat opposite the school
+of tuna when Dan yelled: "Look out for that bunch of kelp! Jump your
+bait over it!"
+
+Then I spied the mass of floating seaweed. I knew absolutely that my
+hook was going to snag it. But I tried to be careful, quick, accurate. I
+jumped my bait. It fell short. The hook caught fast in the kelp. In the
+last piece! The kite fluttered like a bird with broken wings and
+dropped. Captain Dan reversed the boat. Then he burst out. Now Dan was a
+big man and he had a stentorian voice, deep like booming thunder. No man
+ever swore as Dan swore then. It was terrible. It was justified. But it
+was funny, and despite all this agony of disappointment, despite the
+other boat heading into the tuna and putting them down, I laughed till I
+cried.
+
+The fishermen in that other boat hooked a fish and broke it off. We saw
+from the excitement on board that they had realized the enormous size of
+these tuna. We hurried to get ready again. It was only needful to drag a
+bait anywhere near that school. And we alternated with the other boat. I
+saw those fishermen get four more strikes and lose the four fish
+immediately. I had even worse luck. In fact, disaster grew and grew. But
+there is no need for me to multiply these instances. The last three
+tunas I hooked broke the double line on the first run. This when I had
+on only a slight drag!
+
+The other boat puddled around in our school and finally put it down for
+good, and, as the other schools had disappeared, we started for home.
+
+This was the most remarkable and unfortunate day I ever had on the sea,
+where many strange fishing experiences have been mine. Captain Dan had
+never heard of the like in eighteen years as boatman. No such
+large-sized tuna, not to mention numbers, had visited Catalina for many
+years. I had thirteen strikes, not counting more than one strike to a
+bait. Seven fish broke the single line and three the double line,
+practically, I might say, before they had run far enough to cause any
+great strain. And the parting of the double line, where, if a break had
+occurred, it would have come on the single, convinced us that all these
+lines were cut. Cut by other tuna! In this huge school of hungry fish,
+whenever one ran for or with a bait, all the others dove pellmell after
+him. The line, of course, made a white streak in the water. Perhaps the
+tuna bit it off. Perhaps they crowded it off. However they did it, the
+fact was that they cut the line. Probably it would have been impossible
+to catch one of those large tuna on the Tuna Club tackle. I hated to
+think of breaking off hooks in fish, but, after it was too late, I
+remembered with many a thrill the size and beauty and tremendous
+striking energy of those tuna, the wide, white, foamy, furious boils on
+the surface, the lunges when hooked, and the runs swift as bullets.
+
+That experience would never come to me again. It was like watching for
+the rare transformations of nature that must be waited for and which
+come so seldom.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+But, such is the persistence of mankind in general and the doggedness of
+fishermen in particular, Captain Dan and I kept on roaming the seas in
+search of tuna. Nothing more was seen or heard of the great drifting
+schools. They had gone down the channel toward Mexico, down with the
+mysterious currents of the sea, fulfilling their mission in life.
+However, different anglers reported good-sized tuna off Seal Rocks and
+Silver Ca�on. Several fish were hooked. Mr. Reed brought in a
+one-hundred-and-forty-one-pound tuna that took five hours to land. It
+made a dogged, desperate resistance and was almost unbeatable. Mr. Reed
+is a heavy, powerful man, and he said this tuna gave him the hardest
+task he ever attempted. I wondered what I would have done with one of
+those two-or three-hundred-pounders. There is a difference between
+Pacific and Atlantic tuna. The latter are seacows compared to these blue
+pluggers of the West. I have hooked several very large tuna along the
+Seabright coast, and, though these fish got away, they did not give me
+the battle I have had with small tuna of the Pacific. Mr. Wortheim,
+fishing with my old boatman, Horse-mackerel Sam, landed a
+two-hundred-and-sixty-two-pound Atlantic tuna in less than two hours.
+Sam said the fish made a loggy, rolling, easy fight. Crowninshield, also
+fishing with Sam, caught one weighing three hundred pounds in rather
+short order. This sort of feat cannot be done out here in the Pacific.
+The deep water here may have something to do with it, but the tuna are
+different, if not in species, then in disposition.
+
+My lucky day came after no tuna had been reported for a week. Captain
+Dan and I ran out off Silver Ca�on just on a last forlorn hope. The sea
+was rippling white and blue, with a good breeze. No whales showed. We
+left Avalon about one o'clock, ran out five miles, and began to fish.
+Our methods had undergone some change. We used a big kite out on three
+hundred yards of line; we tied this line on my leader, and we tightened
+the drag on the reel so that it took a nine-pound pull to start the line
+off. This seemed a fatal procedure, but I was willing to try anything.
+My hope of getting a strike was exceedingly slim. Instead of a
+flying-fish for bait we used a good-sized smelt, and we used hooks big
+and strong and sharp as needles.
+
+We had not been out half an hour when Dan left the wheel and jumped up
+on the gunwale to look at something.
+
+"What do you see?" I asked, eagerly.
+
+He was silent a moment. I dare say he did not want to make any mistakes.
+Then he jumped back to the wheel.
+
+"School of tuna!" he boomed.
+
+I stood up and looked in the direction indicated, but I could not see
+them. Dan said only the movement on the water could be seen. Good long
+swells were running, rather high, and presently I did see tuna showing
+darkly bronze in the blue water. They vanished. We had to turn the boat
+somewhat, and it began to appear that we would have difficulty in
+putting the bait into the school. So it turned out. We were in the wrong
+quarter to use the wind. I saw the school of tuna go by, perhaps two
+hundred feet from the boat. They were traveling fast, somewhat under the
+surface, and were separated from one another. They were big tuna, but
+nothing near the size of those that had wrecked my tackle and hopes.
+Captain Dan said they were hungry, hunting fish. To me they appeared
+game, swift, and illusive.
+
+We lost sight of them. With the boat turned fairly into the west wind
+the kite soared, pulling hard, and my bait skipped down the slopes of
+the swells and up over the crests just like a live, leaping little fish.
+It was my opinion that the tuna were running inshore. Dan said they were
+headed west. We saw nothing of them. Again the old familiar
+disappointment knocked at my heart, with added bitterness of past
+defeat. Dan scanned the sea like a shipwrecked mariner watching for a
+sail.
+
+"I see them!... There!" he called. "They're sure traveling fast."
+
+That stimulated me with a shock. I looked and looked, but I could not
+see the darkened water. Moments passed, during which I stood up,
+watching my bait as it slipped over the waves. I knew Dan would tell me
+when to begin to jump it. The suspense grew to be intense.
+
+"We'll catch up with them," said Dan, excitedly. "Everything's right
+now. Kite high, pulling hard--bait working fine. You're sure of a
+strike.... When you see one get the bait hook him quick and hard."
+
+The ambition of years, the long patience, the endless efforts, the
+numberless disappointments, and that never-to-be-forgotten day among the
+giant tuna--these flashed up at Captain Dan's words of certainty, and,
+together with the thrilling proximity of the tuna we were chasing, they
+roused in me emotion utterly beyond proportion or reason. This had
+happened to me before, notably in swordfishing, but never had I felt
+such thrills, such tingling nerves, such oppression on my chest, such a
+wild, eager rapture. It would have been impossible, notwithstanding my
+emotional temperament, if the leading up to this moment had not included
+so much long-sustained feeling.
+
+"Jump your bait!" called Dan, with a ring in his voice. "In two jumps
+you'll be in the tail-enders."
+
+I jerked my rod. The bait gracefully leaped over a swell--shot along the
+surface, and ended with a splash. Again I jerked. As the bait rose into
+the air a huge angry splash burst just under it, and a broad-backed tuna
+lunged and turned clear over, his tail smacking the water.
+
+"Jump it!" yelled Dan.
+
+Before I could move, a circling smash of white surrounded my bait. I
+heard it. With all my might I jerked. Strong and heavy came the weight
+of the tuna. I had hooked him. With one solid thumping splash he
+sounded. Here was test for line and test for me. I could not resist one
+turn of the thumb-wheel, to ease the drag. He went down with the same
+old incomparable speed. I saw the kite descending. Dan threw out the
+clutch--ran to my side. The reel screamed. Every tense second, as the
+line whizzed off, I expected it to break. There was no joy, no sport in
+that painful watching. He ran off two hundred feet, then, marvelous to
+see, he slowed up. The kite was still high, pulling hard. What with kite
+and drag and friction of line in the water, that tuna had great strain
+upon him. He ran off a little more, slower this time, then stopped. The
+kite began to flutter.
+
+I fell into the chair, jammed the rod-butt into the socket, and began to
+pump and wind.
+
+"Doc, you're hooked on and you've stopped him!" boomed Dan. His face
+beamed. "Look at your legs!"
+
+It became manifest then that my knees were wabbling, my feet puttering
+around, my whole lower limbs shaking as if I had the palsy. I had lost
+control of my lower muscles. It was funny; it was ridiculous. It showed
+just what was my state of excitement.
+
+The kite fluttered down to the water. The kite-line had not broken off,
+and this must add severely to the strain on the fish. Not only had I
+stopped the tuna, but soon I had him coming up, slowly yet rather
+easily. He was directly under the boat. When I had all save about one
+hundred feet of line wound in the tuna anchored himself and would not
+budge for fifteen minutes. Then again rather easily he was raised fifty
+more feet. He acted like any small, hard-fighting fish.
+
+"I've hooked a little one," I began. "That big fellow missed the bait,
+and a small one grabbed it."
+
+Dan would not say so, but he feared just that. What miserable black
+luck! Almost I threw the rod and reel overboard. Some sense, however,
+prevented me from such an absurdity. And as I worked the tuna closer and
+closer I grew absolutely sick with disappointment. The only thing to do
+was to haul this little fish in and go hunt up the school. So I pumped
+and pulled. That half-hour seemed endless and bad business altogether.
+Anger possessed me and I began to work harder. At this juncture
+Shorty's boat appeared close to us. Shorty and Adams waved me
+congratulations, and then made motions to Dan to get the direction of
+the school of tuna. That night both Shorty and Adams told me that I was
+working very hard on the fish, too hard to save any strength for a long
+battle.
+
+ [Illustration: A BLUE-FINNED PLUGGER OF THE DEEP--138-POUND TUNA]
+
+ [Illustration: AVALON, THE BEAUTIFUL]
+
+Captain Dan watched the slow, steady bends of my rod as the tuna
+plugged, and at last he said, "Doc, it's a big fish!"
+
+Strange to relate, this did not electrify me. I did not believe it. But
+at the end of that half-hour the tuna came clear to the surface, about
+one hundred feet from us, and there he rode the swells. Doubt folded his
+sable wings! Bronze and blue and green and silver flashes illumined the
+swells. I plainly saw that not only was the tuna big, but he was one of
+the long, slim, hard-fighting species.
+
+Presently he sounded, and I began to work. I was fresh, eager, strong,
+and I meant to whip him quickly. Working on a big tuna is no joke. It is
+a man's job. A tuna fights on his side, with head down, and he never
+stops. If the angler rests the tuna will not only rest, too, but he will
+take more and more line. The method is a long, slow lift or pump of
+rod--then lower the rod quickly and wind the reel. When the tuna is
+raised so high he will refuse to come any higher, and then there is a
+deadlock. There lives no fisherman but what there lives a tuna that can
+take the conceit and the fight out of him.
+
+For an hour I worked. I sweat and panted and burned in the hot sun; and
+I enjoyed it. The sea was beautiful. A strong, salty fragrance, wet and
+sweet, floated on the breeze. Catalina showed clear and bright, with
+its colored cliffs and yellow slides and dark ravines. Clemente Island
+rose a dark, long, barren, lonely land to the southeast. The clouds in
+the west were like trade-wind clouds, white, regular, with level
+base-line.
+
+At the end of the second hour I was tiring. There came a subtle change
+of spirit and mood. I had never let up for a minute. Captain Dan praised
+me, vowed I had never fought either broadbill or roundbill swordfish so
+consistently hard, but he cautioned me to save myself.
+
+"That's a big tuna," he said, as he watched my rod.
+
+Most of the time we drifted. Some of the time Dan ran the boat to keep
+even with the tuna, so he could not get too far under the stern and cut
+the line. At intervals the fish appeared to let up and at others he
+plugged harder. This I discovered was merely that he fought the hardest
+when I worked the hardest. Once we gained enough on him to cut the
+tangle of kite-line that had caught some fifty feet above my leader.
+This afforded cause for less anxiety.
+
+"I'm afraid of sharks," said Dan.
+
+Sharks are the bane of tuna fishermen. More tuna are cut off by sharks
+than are ever landed by anglers. This made me redouble my efforts, and
+in half an hour more I was dripping wet, burning hot, aching all over,
+and so spent I had to rest. Every time I dropped the rod on the gunwale
+the tuna took line--zee--zee--zee--foot by foot and yard by yard. My
+hands were cramped; my thumbs red and swollen, almost raw. I asked Dan
+for the harness, but he was loath to put it on because he was afraid I
+would break the fish off. So I worked on and on, with spurts of fury and
+periods of lagging.
+
+At the end of three hours I was in bad condition. I had saved a little
+strength for the finish, but I was in danger of using that up before the
+crucial moment arrived. Dan had to put the harness on me. I knew
+afterward that it saved the day. By the aid of the harness, putting my
+shoulders into the lift, I got the double line over the reel, only to
+lose it. Every time the tuna was pulled near the boat he sheered off,
+and it did not appear possible for me to prevent it. He got into a habit
+of coming to the surface about thirty feet out, and hanging there, in
+plain sight, as if he was cabled to the rocks of the ocean. Watching him
+only augmented my trouble. It had ceased long ago to be fun or sport or
+game. It was now a fight and it began to be torture. My hands were all
+blisters, my thumbs raw. The respect I had for that tuna was great.
+
+He plugged down mostly, but latterly he began to run off to each side,
+to come to the surface, showing his broad green-silver side, and then he
+weaved to and fro behind the boat, trying to get under it. Captain Dan
+would have to run ahead to keep away from him. To hold what gain I had
+on the tuna was at these periods almost unendurable. Where before I had
+sweat, burned, throbbed, and ached, I now began to see red, to grow
+dizzy, to suffer cramps and nausea and exceeding pain.
+
+Three hours and a half showed the tuna slower, heavier, higher, easier.
+He had taken us fifteen miles from where we had hooked him. He was
+weakening, but I thought I was worse off than he was. Dan changed the
+harness. It seemed to make more effort possible.
+
+The floor under my feet was wet and slippery from the salt water
+dripping off my reel. I could not get any footing. The bend of that rod
+downward, the ceaseless tug, tug, tug, the fear of sharks, the
+paradoxical loss of desire now to land the tuna, the change in my
+feeling of elation and thrill to wonder, disgust, and utter weariness of
+spirit and body--all these warned me that I was at the end of my tether,
+and if anything could be done it must be quickly.
+
+Relaxing, I took a short rest. Then nerving myself to be indifferent to
+the pain, and yielding altogether to the brutal instinct this
+tuna-fighting rouses in a fisherman, I lay back with might and main.
+Eight times I had gotten the double line over the reel. On the ninth I
+shut down, clamped with my thumbs, and froze there. The wire leader sung
+like a telephone wire in the cold. I could scarcely see. My arms
+cracked. I felt an immense strain that must break me in an instant.
+
+Captain Dan reached the leader. Slowly he heaved. The strain upon me was
+released. I let go the reel, threw off the drag, and stood up. There the
+tuna was, the bronze-and-blue-backed devil, gaping, wide-eyed, shining
+and silvery as he rolled, a big tuna if there ever was one, and he was
+conquered.
+
+When Dan lunged with the gaff the tuna made a tremendous splash that
+deluged us. Then Dan yelled for another gaff. I was quick to get it.
+Next it was for me to throw a lasso over that threshing tail. When I
+accomplished this the tuna was ours. We hauled him up on the stern,
+heaving, thumping, throwing water and blood; and even vanquished he was
+magnificent. Three hours and fifty minutes! The number fifty stayed with
+me. As I fell back in a chair, all in, I could not see for my life why
+any fisherman would want to catch more than one large tuna.
+
+
+
+
+XIV
+
+AVALON, THE BEAUTIFUL
+
+
+If you are a fisherman, and aspire to the study or conquest of the big
+game of the sea, go to Catalina Island once before it is too late.
+
+The summer of 1917 will never be forgotten by those fishermen who were
+fortunate enough to be at Avalon. Early in June, even in May, there were
+indications that the first record season in many years might be
+expected. Barracuda and white sea-bass showed up in great schools; the
+ocean appeared to be full of albacore; yellowtail began to strike all
+along the island shores and even in the bay of Avalon; almost every day
+in July sight of broadbill swordfish was reported, sometimes as many as
+ten in a day; in August the blue-fin tuna surged in, school after
+school, in vast numbers; and in September returned the Marlin, or
+roundbill swordfish that royal-purple swashbuckler of the Pacific.
+
+This extraordinary run of fish appeared like old times to the boatmen
+and natives who could look back over many Catalina years. The cause, of
+course, was a favorable season when the sardines and anchovies came to
+the island in incalculable numbers. Acres and acres of these little bait
+fish drifted helplessly to and fro, back and forth with the tides, from
+Seal Rocks to the west end. These schools were not broken up until the
+advent of the voracious tuna; and when they arrived the ocean soon
+seemed littered with small, amber-colored patches, each of which was a
+densely packed mass of sardines or anchovies, drifting with the current.
+It has not yet been established that swordfish feed on these schools,
+but the swordfish were there in abundance, at any rate; and it was
+reasonable to suppose that some of the fish they feed on were in pursuit
+of the anchovies.
+
+Albacore feeding on the surface raise a thin, low, white line of water
+or multitudes of slight, broken splashes. Tuna raise a white wall,
+tumbling and spouting along the horizon; and it is a sight not soon to
+be forgotten by a fisherman. Near at hand a big school of feeding tuna
+is a thrilling spectacle. They move swiftly, breaking water as they
+smash after the little fish, and the roar can be heard quite a distance.
+The wall of white water seems full of millions of tiny, glinting fish,
+leaping frantically from the savage tuna. And when the sunlight shines
+golden through this wall of white spray, and the great bronze and silver
+and blue tuna gleam for an instant, the effect is singularly exciting
+and beautiful.
+
+All through August and much of September these schools of tuna,
+thousands of them, ranted up and down the coast of Catalina, thinning
+out the amber patches of anchovies, and affording the most magnificent
+sport to anglers.
+
+These tuna may return next year and then again they may not return for
+ten years. Some time again they will swing round the circle or drift
+with the currents, in that mysterious and inscrutable nature of the
+ocean. And if a fisherman can only pick out the year or have the
+obsession to go back season after season he will some day see these
+wonderful schools again.
+
+But as for the other fish--swordfish, white sea-bass, yellowtail, and
+albacore--their doom has been spelled, and soon they will be no more.
+That is why I say to fishermen if they want to learn something about
+these incomparable fish they must go soon to Catalina before it is too
+late.
+
+The Japs, the Austrians, the round-haul nets, the canneries and the
+fertilizer-plants--that is to say, foreigners and markets, greed and
+war, have cast their dark shadow over beautiful Avalon. The intelligent,
+far-seeing boatmen all see it. My boatman, Captain Danielson, spoke
+gloomily of the not distant time when his occupation would be gone. And
+as for the anglers who fish at Catalina, some of them see it and many of
+them do not. The standard raised at Avalon has been to haul in as many
+of the biggest fish in the least possible time. One famous fisherman
+brought in thirteen tuna--nine hundred and eighty-six pounds of
+tuna--that he caught in one day! This is unbelievable, yet it is true.
+Another brought in eleven tuna in one day. These fishermen are
+representative of the coterie who fish for records. All of them are big,
+powerful men, and when they hook a fish they will not give him a foot of
+line if they can help it. They horse him in, and if they can horse him
+in before he wakes up to real combat they are the better pleased. All of
+which is to say that the true motive (or pleasure, if it can be such)
+is the instinct to kill. I have observed this in many fishermen. Any one
+who imagines that man has advanced much beyond the savage stage has only
+carefully to observe fishermen.
+
+ [Illustration: THE OLD AVALON BARGE WHERE THE GULLS FISH AND SCREAM]
+
+ [Illustration: THE END OF THE DAY OFF CATALINA ISLAND]
+
+I have demonstrated the practicability of letting Marlin swordfish go
+after they were beaten, but almost all of the boatmen will not do it.
+The greater number of swordfish weigh under two hundred pounds, and when
+exhausted and pulled up to the boat they can be freed by cutting the
+wire leader close to the hook. Probably all these fish would live. A
+fisherman will have his fun seeing and photographing the wonderful
+leaps, and conquering the fish, and when all this is over it would be
+sportsman-like to let him go. Marlin are not food fish, and they are
+thrown to the sharks. During 1918, however, many were sold as food fish.
+It seems a pity to treat this royal, fighting, wonderful, purple-colored
+fish in this way. But the boatmen will not free them. My boatman claimed
+that his reputation depended upon the swordfish he caught; and that in
+Avalon no one would believe fish were caught unless brought to the dock.
+It was his bread and butter. His reputation brought him new fishermen,
+and so he could not afford to lose it. Nevertheless, he was persuaded to
+do it in 1918. The fault, then, does not lie with the boatman.
+
+The Japs are the greatest market fishermen in the world. And some five
+hundred boats put out of San Pedro every day, to scour the ocean for
+"the chicken of the sea," as albacore are advertised to the millions of
+people who are always hungry. It must be said that the Japs mostly fish
+square. They use a hook, and a barbless hook at that. Usually four Japs
+constitute the crew of one of these fast eighty-horse-power motor-boats.
+They roam the sea with sharp eyes ever alert for that thin white line on
+the horizon, the feeding albacore. Their method of fishing is unique and
+picturesque. When they sight albacore they run up on the school and slow
+down.
+
+In the stern of the boat stands a huge tank, usually painted red. I have
+become used to seeing dots of red all over the ocean. This tank is kept
+full of fresh sea-water by a pump connected with the engine, and it is
+used to keep live bait--no other than the little anchovies. One Jap,
+using a little net, dips up live bait and throws them overboard to the
+albacore. Another Jap beats on the water with long bamboo poles, making
+splashes. The other two Japs have short, stiff poles with a wire
+attached and the barbless hook at the end. They put on a live bait and
+toss it over. Instantly they jerk hard, and two big white albacore, from
+fifteen to thirty pounds, come wiggling up on to the stern of the boat.
+Down goes the pole and whack! goes a club. It is all done with swift
+mechanical precision. It used to amaze me and fill me with sadness. If
+the Japs could hold the school of albacore they would very soon load the
+boat. But usually a school of albacore cannot be held long.
+
+You cannot fish in the channel any more without encountering these Jap
+boats. Once at one time in 1917 I saw one hundred and thirty-two boats.
+Most of them were fishing! They ran to and fro over the ocean, chasing
+every white splash, and they make an angler's pleasure taste bitter.
+
+Fortunately the Japs had let the tuna alone, for the simple and good
+reason that they had not found a way to catch the wise blue-fins. But
+they will find a way! Yet they drove the schools down, and that was
+almost as bad. As far as swordfish are concerned, it is easy to see what
+will happen, now that the albacore have become scarce. Broadbill
+swordfish are the finest food fish in the sea. They can be easily
+harpooned by these skilful Japs. And so eventually they will be killed
+and driven away. This misfortune may not come at once, but it will come.
+
+In this connection it is interesting to note that I tried to photograph
+one of the Austrian crews in action. But Captain Dan would not let me
+get near enough to take a picture. There is bad blood between Avalon
+boatmen and these foreign market fishermen. Shots had been exchanged
+more than once. Captain Dan kept a rifle on board. This news sort of
+stirred me. And I said: "Run close to that bunch, Cap. Maybe they'll
+take a peg at me!" But he refused to comply, and I lost a chance to
+serve my country!
+
+The Japs, however, are square fishermen, mostly, and I rather admire
+those albacore-chasers, who at least give the fish a chance. Some of
+them use nets, and against them and the Austrian round-haul netters I am
+exceedingly bitter. These round-haul nets, some of them, must be a mile
+long, and they sink two hundred feet in the water. What chance has a
+school of fish against that? They surround a school and there is no
+escape.
+
+Clemente Island, the sister island to Catalina, was once a paradise for
+fish, especially the beautiful, gamy yellowtail. But there are no more
+fish there, except Marlin swordfish in August and September. The great,
+boiling schools of yellowtail are gone. Clemente Island has no
+three-mile law protecting it, as has Catalina. But that Catalina law has
+become a farce. It is violated often in broad daylight, and probably all
+night long. One Austrian round-haul netter took seven tons of white
+sea-bass in one haul. Seven tons! Did you ever look at a white sea-bass?
+He is the most beautiful of bass--slender, graceful, thoroughbred,
+exquisitely colored like a paling opal, and a fighter if there ever was
+one.
+
+What becomes of these seven tons of white sea-bass and all the other
+tons and tons of yellowtail and albacore? That is a question. It needs
+to be answered. During the year 1917 one heard many things. The
+fish-canneries were working day and night, and every can of fish--the
+whole output had been bought by the government for the soldiers. Very
+good. We are a nation at war. Our soldiers must be properly fed and so
+must our allies. If it takes all the fish in the sea and all the meat on
+the land, we must and will win this war.
+
+But real patriotism is one thing and misstatement is another. If there
+were not so much deceit and greed in connection with this war it would
+be easier to stomach.
+
+As a matter of cold fact, that round-haul netter's seven tons of
+beautiful white sea-bass did not go into cans for our good soldiers or
+for our fighting allies. Those seven tons of splendid white sea-bass
+went into the fertilizer-plant, where many and many a ton had gone
+before!
+
+It is not hard to comprehend. When they work for the fertilizer-plants
+they do not need ice--they do not need to hurry to the port to save
+spoiling--they can stay out till the boat is packed full. So often a
+greater part of the magnificent schools of white sea-bass, albacore, and
+yellowtail--splendid food fish--go into the fertilizer-plants to make a
+few foreign-born hogs rich. Hundreds of aliens, many of them hostile to
+the United States, are making big money, which is sent abroad.
+
+I believe that the great kelp-beds round Catalina are the
+spawning-grounds of these fish in question. And not only a
+spawning-ground, but, what is more important, a feeding-ground. And now
+the kelp-beds are being exploited. The government needs potash. Formerly
+our supply of potash came from Germany. But, now that we are not on
+amiable terms with those nice gentle Germans, we cannot get any potash.
+Hence the great, huge kelp-cutters that you hear cut only the tops of
+the kelp-beds. Six feet they say, and it all grows up again quickly. But
+in my opinion the once vast, heaving, wonderful beds of kelp along the
+Clemente and Catalina shores have been cut too deeply. They will die.
+
+Some of my predictions made in 1917 were verified in 1918.
+
+A few scattered schools of albacore appeared in the channel in July. But
+these were soon caught or chased away by the market boats.
+Albacore-fishing was poor in other localities up and down the coast.
+Many of the Jap fishermen sold their boats and sought other industry.
+It was a fact, and a great pleasure, that an angler could go out for
+tuna without encountering a single market boat on the sea. Maybe the
+albacore did not come this year; maybe they were mostly all caught;
+maybe they were growing shyer of boats; at any event, they were scarce,
+and the reason seems easy to see.
+
+It was significant that the broadbill swordfish did not return to Avalon
+in 1918, as in former years. I saw only one in two months roaming the
+ocean. A few were seen. Not one was caught during my stay on the island.
+Many boatmen and anglers believe that the broadbills follow the
+albacore. It seems safe to predict that when the albacore cease to come
+to Catalina there will not be any fishing for the great flat-sworded
+_Xiphias_.
+
+The worst that came to pass in 1918, from an angler's viewpoint, was
+that the market fishermen found a way to net the blue-fin tuna, both
+large and small. All I could learn was that the nets were lengthened and
+deepened. The Japs got into the great schools of large tuna which
+appeared off Anacapa Island and netted tons and tons of hundred-pound
+tuna. These schools drifted on down the middle of the Clemente Channel,
+and I was the lucky fellow who happened to get among them for one
+memorable day.
+
+Take it all in all, my gloomy prophecies of other years were
+substantiated in 1918, especially in regard to the devastated kelp-beds;
+but there have been a few silver rifts in the black cloud, and it seems
+well to end this book with mention of brighter things.
+
+All fish brought into Avalon in 1918 were sold for food.
+
+We inaugurated the releasing of small Marlin swordfish.
+
+There was a great increase in the interest taken in the use of light
+tackle.
+
+We owe the latter stride toward conservation and sportsmanship to Mr.
+James Jump, and to Lone Angler, and to President Coxe of the Tuna Club.
+I had not been entirely in sympathy with their feats of taking Marlin
+swordfish and tuna on light tackle. My objections to the use of too
+light tackle have been cited before in this book. Many fish break away
+on the nine-thread. I know this because I tried it out. Fifteen of those
+small tuna, one after another, broke my line on the first rush. But I
+believe that was my lack of skill with handling of rod and boat.
+
+As for Marlin, I have always known that I could take some of these
+roundbill swordfish on light tackle. But likewise there have been some
+that could not have been taken so, and these are the swordfish I have
+fished for.
+
+Nevertheless, I certainly do not want to detract from Jump's
+achievements, as I will show. They have been remarkable. And they have
+attracted wide attention to the possibilities of light tackle. Thus Mr.
+Jump has done conservative angling an estimable good, as well as placed
+himself in a class alone.
+
+The use of light tackle by experts for big game fish of the sea has come
+to be an established practice in American angling. A few years ago, when
+sport with light tackle was exceptional, it required courage to flaunt
+its use in the faces of fishermen of experience and established
+reputation. Long Key, now the most noted fishing resort on the Atlantic
+coast, was not many years back a place for hand-lines and huge rods and
+tackle, and boat-loads of fish for one man. It has become a resort for
+gentlemen anglers, and its sportsmen's club claims such experts and fine
+exponents of angling as Heilner, Lester, Cassiard, Crowninshield,
+Conill, the Schutts, and others, who can safely be trusted to advance
+the standard. Fishermen are like sheep--they follow the boldest leaders.
+And no one wants to be despised by the elect. Long Key, with its
+isolation, yet easy accession, its beauty and charm, its loneliness and
+quiet, its big game fish, will become the Mecca of high-class
+light tackle anglers, who will in time answer for the ethics and
+sportsmanship of the Atlantic seaboard.
+
+On the Pacific side the light tackle advocates have had a different row
+to hoe. With nothing but keen, fair, honest, and splendid zealousness
+Mr. James Jump has pioneered this sport almost single-handed against the
+heavy tackle record-holder who until recently dominated the Tuna Club
+and the boatmen and the fishing at Avalon. To my shame and regret I
+confess that it took me three years to recognize Jump's bigness as an
+angler and his tenacity as a fighter. But I shall make amends. It seems
+when I fished I was steeped in dreams of the sea and the beauty of the
+lonely islands. I am not in Jump's class as a fisherman, nor in Lone
+Angler's, either. They stand by themselves. But I can write about them,
+and so inspire others.
+
+Jump set out in 1914 to catch swordfish on light tackle, and
+incidentally tuna under one hundred pounds. He was ridiculed, scorned,
+scoffed at, made a butt of by this particular heavy tackle angler, and
+cordially hated for his ambitions. Most anglers and boatmen repudiated
+his claims and looked askance at him. Personally I believed Jump might
+catch some swordfish or tuna on light tackle, but only one out of many,
+and that one not the fighting kind. I was wrong. It was Lone Angler who
+first drew my attention to Jump's achievements and possibilities.
+President Coxe was alive to them also, and he has rebuilt and
+rejuvenated the Tuna Club on the splendid standard set by its founder,
+Dr. Charles Frederick Holder, and with infinite patience and tact and
+labor, and love of fine angling and good fellowship, he has put down
+that small but mighty clique who threatened the ruin of sport at fair
+Avalon. This has not been public news, but it ought to be and shall be
+public news.
+
+The malignant attack recently made upon Mr. Jump's catches of Marlin
+swordfish on light tackle was uncalled for and utterly false. It was
+an obvious and jealous attempt to belittle, discredit, and dishonor
+one of the finest gentlemen sportsmen who ever worked for the good
+of the game. I know and I will swear that Jump's capture of the
+three-hundred-and-fourteen-pound Marlin on light tackle in twenty-eight
+minutes was absolutely as honest as it was skilful, as sportsman-like as
+it was wonderful. A number of well-known sportsmen _watched_ him take
+this Marlin. Yet his enemies slandered him, accused him of using ropes
+and Heaven knows what else! It was vile and it failed.
+
+Jump has performed the apparently impossible. Marlin swordfish hooked on
+light tackle can be handled by an exceedingly skilful angler. They make
+an indescribably spectacular, wonderful fight, on the surface all the
+time, and can be taken as quickly as on heavy tackle. Obviously, then,
+this becomes true of tarpon and sailfish and small tuna. What a world to
+conquer lies before the fine-spirited angler! A few fish on light
+outfits magnifying all the excitement and thrills of many fish on heavy
+outfits! There are no arguments against this, for men who have time and
+money.
+
+We pioneers of light tackle are out of the woods _now_. There was a
+pride in a fight against odds--a pride of silence, and a fight of
+example and expressed standards and splendid achievements. But now we
+have followers, disciples who have learned, who have profited, who have
+climbed to the heights, and we are no longer alone. Hence we can scatter
+the news to the four winds and ask for the comradeship of kindred
+spirits, of men who love the sea and the stream and the gameness of a
+fish. The Open Sesame to our clan is just that love, and an ambition to
+achieve higher things. Who fishes just to kill? At Long Key last winter
+I met two self-styled sportsmen. They were eager to convert me to what
+they claimed was the dry-fly class angling of the sea. And it was to jab
+harpoons and spears into porpoises and manatee and sawfish, and be
+dragged about in their boat. The height of their achievements that
+winter had been the harpooning of several sawfish, each of which gave
+birth to a little one while being fought on the harpoon! Ye gods! It
+would never do to record my utterances.
+
+But I record this fact only in the hope of opening the eyes of anglers.
+I have no ax to grind for myself. I have gone through the game, over to
+the fair side, and I want anglers to know.
+
+We are a nation of fishermen and riflemen. Who says the Americans cannot
+shoot or fight? What made that great bunch of Yankee boys turn back the
+Hun hordes? It was the quick eye, the steady nerve, the unquenchable
+spirit of the American boy--his heritage from his hunter forefathers. We
+are great fishermen's sons also, and we can save the fish that are being
+depleted in our waters.
+
+Let every angler who loves to fish think what it would mean to him to
+find the fish were gone. The mackerel are gone, the bluefish are going,
+the menhaden are gone, every year the amberjack and kingfish grow
+smaller and fewer. We must find ways and means to save our game fish of
+the sea; and one of the finest and most sportsman-like ways is to use
+light tackle.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Wiborn, the Lone Angler, is also in a class by himself. To my mind
+Wiborn is the ideal angler of the sea. I have aspired to his method, but
+realize it is impossible for me. He goes out alone. Hence the name Lone
+Angler. He operates his motor-launch, rigs his tackle and bait and
+teasers, flies his kite, finds the fish, fights the one he hooks, and
+gaffs and hauls it aboard or releases it, all by himself. Any one who
+has had the slightest experience in Pacific angling can appreciate this
+hazardous, complicated, and laborsome job of the Lone Angler. Any one
+who ever fought a big tuna or swordfish can imagine where he would have
+been without a boatman. After some of my fights with fish Captain
+Danielson has been as tired as I was. His job had been as hard as mine.
+But Wiborn goes out day by day alone, and he has brought in big tuna and
+swordfish. Not many! He is too fine a sportsman to bring in many fish.
+
+And herein is the point I want to drive home in my tribute to Lone
+Angler. No one can say how many fish he catches. He never tells. Always
+he has a fine, wonderful, beautiful day on the water. It matters not to
+him, the bringing home of fish to exhibit. This roused my admiration,
+and also my suspicion. I got to believing that Lone Angler caught many
+more fish than he ever brought home.
+
+So I spied upon him. Whenever chance afforded I watched him through my
+powerful binoculars. He was always busy. His swift boat roamed the seas.
+Always he appeared a white dot on the blue horizon, like the flash of a
+gull. I have watched his kite flutter down; I have seen his boat stop
+and stand still; I have seen sheeted splashes of water near him; and
+more than once I have seen him leaning back with bent rod, working and
+pumping hard. But when he came into Avalon on these specific occasions,
+he brought no tuna, no swordfish--nothing but a cheerful, enigmatic
+smile and a hopeful question as to the good luck of his friends.
+
+"But I saw you hauling away on a fish," I ventured to say, once.
+
+ [Illustration: SEAL ROCKS]
+
+"Oh, that was an old shark," he replied, laughing.
+
+Well, it might have been, but I had my doubts. And at the close of 1918
+I believed, though I could not prove, that Lone Angler let the most of
+his fish go free. Hail to Lone Angler! If a man must roam the salt sea
+in search of health and peace, and in a manly, red-blooded
+exercise--here is the ideal. I have not seen its equal. I envy him--his
+mechanical skill, his fearlessness of distance and fog and wind, his
+dexterity with kite and rod and wheel, but especially I envy him the
+lonesome rides upon a lonesome sea--
+
+     Alone, all alone on a wide, wide sea.
+
+The long, heaving swells, the windy lanes, the flight of the sheerwater
+and the uplifted flukes of the whale, the white wall of tuna on the
+horizon, the leap of the dolphin, the sweet, soft scent that breathes
+from off the sea, the beauty and mystery and color and movement of the
+deep--these are Lone Angler's alone, and he is as rich as if he had
+found the sands of the Pacific to be pearls, the waters nectar, and the
+rocks pure gold.
+
+Happily, neither war nor business nor fish-hogs can ruin the wonderful
+climate of Catalina Island. Nature does not cater to evil conditions.
+The sun and the fog, the great, calm Pacific, the warm Japanese current,
+the pleasant winds--these all have their tasks, and they perform them
+faithfully, to the happiness of those who linger at Catalina.
+
+Avalon, the beautiful! Somehow even the fire that destroyed half of
+Avalon did not greatly mar its beauty. At a distance the bay and the
+grove of eucalyptus-trees, the green-and-gold slopes, look as they
+always looked. Avalon has a singular charm outside of its sport of
+fishing. It is the most delightful and comfortable place I ever visited.
+The nights are cool. You sleep under blankets even when over in Los
+Angeles people are suffocating with the heat. At dawn the hills are
+obscured in fog and sometimes this fog is chilly. But early or late in
+the morning it breaks up and rolls away. The sun shines. It is the kind
+of sunshine that dazzles the eye, elevates the spirit, and warms the
+back. And out there rolls the vast blue Pacific--calm, slowly heaving,
+beautiful, and mysterious.
+
+During the summer months Avalon is gay, colorful, happy, and mirthful
+with its crowds of tourists and summer visitors. The one broad street
+runs along the beach and I venture to say no other street in America can
+compare with it for lazy, idle, comfortable, pleasant, and picturesque
+effects. It is difficult to determine just where the beach begins and
+the street ends, because of the strollers in bathing-suits. Many a time,
+after a long fishing-day on the water, as I was walking up the middle of
+the street, I have been stunned to a gasp by the startling apparition of
+Venus or Hebe or Little Egypt or Annette Kellermann parading
+nonchalantly to and fro. It seems reasonable and fair to give notice
+that broadbill swordfish are not the only dangers to encounter at
+Avalon. I wish they had a policeman there.
+
+But the spirit of Avalon, like the climate, is something to love. It is
+free, careless, mirthful, wholesome, restful, and serene. The resort is
+democratic and indifferent and aloof. Yet there is always mirth, music,
+and laughter. Many and many a night have I awakened, anywhere from ten
+to one, to listen to the low lap of the waves on the beach, the soft
+tones of an Hawaiian ukulele, the weird cry of a nocturnal sea-gull, the
+bark of a sea-lion, or the faint, haunting laugh of some happy girl,
+going by late, perhaps with her lover.
+
+Avalon is so clean and sweet. It is the only place I have been, except
+Long Key, where the omnipresent, hateful, and stinking automobile does
+not obtrude upon real content. Think of air not reeking with gasolene
+and a street safe to cross at any time! Safe, I mean, of course, from
+being run down by some joy-rider. You are liable to encounter one of the
+Loreleis or Aphrodites at any hour from five till sunset. You must risk
+chance of that.
+
+So, in conclusion, let me repeat that if you are a fisherman of any
+degree, and if you aspire to some wonderful experiences with the great
+and vanishing game fish of the Pacific, and if you would love to
+associate with these adventures some dazzling white hot days, and
+unforgetable cool nights where your eyelids get glued with sleep, and
+the fragrant salt breath of the sea, its music and motion and color and
+mystery and beauty--then go to Avalon before it is too late.
+
+                         THE END
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Tales of Fishes, by Zane Grey
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+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Tales of Fishes, by Zane Grey
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Tales of Fishes
+
+Author: Zane Grey
+
+Release Date: July 7, 2009 [EBook #29346]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TALES OF FISHES ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Brian Janes, D. Alexander and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+<h1>TALES <i>of</i> FISHES</h1>
+
+<h3>by</h3>
+
+<h2>Zane Grey</h2>
+
+<p class="center"><i>President of the Long Key Fishing Club<br />
+Honorary Vice-President of the Tuna Club, Avalon</i></p>
+
+<p class="center">
+<i>Author of</i><br />
+&#8220;The U. P. Trail&#8221; &#8220;The Desert of Wheat&#8221; Etc.</p>
+
+<p class="center">
+<i>Illustrated from Photographs<br />
+by the author</i></p>
+
+<p class="smallgap">&nbsp;</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 100px;">
+<img src="images/illus005.jpg" width="100" height="125" alt="Publishers Logo" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="smallgap">&nbsp;</p>
+
+<p class="center">
+HARPER &amp; BROTHERS PUBLISHERS<br />
+New York and London
+</p>
+
+<hr class="large" />
+
+<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Tales of Fishes</span></p>
+
+<hr class="tiny" />
+
+<p class="center">Copyright 1919, by Harper &amp; Brothers</p>
+
+<p class="center">Printed in the United States of America</p>
+
+<p class="center">Published June, 1919</p>
+
+<hr class="large" />
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"><p><a name="Frontispiece" id="Frontispiece"></a></p>
+<img src="images/illus004.jpg" width="600" height="367" alt="THE GREAT COLORED ROLLERS OF THE PACIFIC" title="" />
+<span class="caption">THE GREAT COLORED ROLLERS OF THE PACIFIC</span>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="large" />
+
+<div class="centered"><h2>CONTENTS</h2>
+<table border="0" width="60%" cellpadding="3" cellspacing="3" summary="CONTENTS">
+
+<tr>
+<td>CHAP.</td>
+<td align="left">&nbsp;</td>
+<td align="right">PAGE</td></tr>
+
+<tr><td>&nbsp;</td>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Verses</span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#ZANE_GREY">0</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td>I.</td>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Byme-by-Tarpon</span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#I">1</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td>II.</td>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Island of the Dead</span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#II">8</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td>III.</td>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Royal Purple Game of the Sea</span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#III">26</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td>IV.</td>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Two Fights with Swordfish</span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#IV">54</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td>V.</td>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Sailfish</span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#V">72</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td>VI.</td>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Gulf Stream Fishing</span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#VI">88</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td>VII.</td>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Bonefish</span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#VII">107</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td>VIII.</td>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Some Rare Fish</span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#VIII">136</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td>IX.</td>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Swordfish</span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#IX">153</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td>X.</td>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Gladiator of the Sea</span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#X">180</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td>XI.</td>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Seven Marlin Swordfish in One Day</span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#XI">197</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td>XII.</td>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Random Notes</span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#XII">216</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td>XIII.</td>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Big Tuna</span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#XIII">221</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td>XIV.</td>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Avalon, the Beautiful</span></td>
+<td align="right"><a href="#XIV">250</a></td></tr>
+
+</table></div>
+
+<hr class="large" />
+
+<div class="centered"><h2>ILLUSTRATIONS</h2>
+<table border="0" width="75%" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="1" summary="ILLUSTRATIONS">
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Great Colored Rollers of the Pacific</span></td>
+<td align="right" colspan="2"><a href="#Frontispiece"><i>Frontispiece</i></a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Tarpon Throwing Hook</span></td>
+<td align="center"><span style="white-space: nowrap"><i>Facing p.</i></span></td>
+<td align="center"><a href="#illo2">2</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Leaping Tarpon</span></td>
+<td align="center">&#8220;</td>
+<td align="center"><a href="#illo3">3</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Savalo, or Silver King</span></td>
+<td align="center">&#8220;</td>
+<td align="center"><a href="#illo4">4</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">These Wild Fowl Have the Wonderful Beauty and
+Speed of Falcons</span></td>
+<td align="center">&#8220;</td>
+<td align="center"><a href="#illo5">5</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Rabihorcado</span></td>
+<td align="center">&#8220;</td>
+<td align="center"><a href="#illo6">12</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Boobies Had No Fear of Man, but Both Young
+and Old Would Pick with Their Sharp Bills</span></td>
+<td align="center">&#8220;</td>
+<td align="center"><a href="#illo7">13</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Young Boobies</span></td>
+<td align="center">&#8220;</td>
+<td align="center"><a href="#illo8">14</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Suggestive of a Wild, Wind-swept Island of the Sea</span></td>
+<td align="center">&#8220;</td>
+<td align="center"><a href="#illo9">15</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Nests Everywhere in the Sand and Moss</span></td>
+<td align="center">&#8220;</td>
+<td align="center"><a href="#illo10">16</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">These Huge Black Rabihorcados Were the Largest
+Species of Frigate or Man-of-war Bird</span></td>
+<td align="center">&#8220;</td>
+<td align="center"><a href="#illo11">17</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Rabihorcado Rising from Their Eggs</span></td>
+<td align="center">&#8220;</td>
+<td align="center"><a href="#illo12">20</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Boobies of Isla de la Muerte in the Caribbean Sea</span></td>
+<td align="center">&#8220;</td>
+<td align="center"><a href="#illo13">21</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">A Swordfish Leaping off the Bold Black Shore of
+Clemente</span></td>
+<td align="center">&#8220;</td>
+<td align="center"><a href="#illo14">28</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">On the Rampage</span></td>
+<td align="center">&#8220;</td>
+<td align="center"><a href="#illo15">29</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Swordfish on the Surface</span></td>
+<td align="center">&#8220;</td>
+<td align="center"><a href="#illo16">32</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Holding Hard</span></td>
+<td align="center">&#8220;</td>
+<td align="center"><a href="#illo17">33</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">A Clean Greyhound Leap</span></td>
+<td align="center">&#8220;</td>
+<td align="center"><a href="#illo18">36</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">316-pound Swordfish</span></td>
+<td align="center">&#8220;</td>
+<td align="center"><a href="#illo19">37</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Wild oats Slope of Clemente</span></td>
+<td align="center">&#8220;</td>
+<td align="center"><a href="#illo20">44</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Where the Deep-blue Swell Booms Against the Lava
+Wall of Clemente Island</span></td>
+<td align="center">&#8220;</td>
+<td align="center"><a href="#illo21">45</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Four Marlin Swordfish in One Day</span></td>
+<td align="center">&#8220;</td>
+<td align="center"><a href="#illo22">68</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">A Big Sailfish Breaking Water</span></td>
+<td align="center">&#8220;</td>
+<td align="center"><a href="#illo23">69</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Four Sailfish in One Day on Light Tackle</span></td>
+<td align="center">&#8220;</td>
+<td align="center"><a href="#illo24">76</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Sailfish Threshing on the Surface</span></td>
+<td align="center">&#8220;</td>
+<td align="center"><a href="#illo25">77</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Memorable of Long Key</span></td>
+<td align="center">&#8220;</td>
+<td align="center"><a href="#illo26">84</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Leaping Sailfish</span></td>
+<td align="center">&#8220;</td>
+<td align="center"><a href="#illo27">85</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Solitude on the Sea</span></td>
+<td align="center">&#8220;</td>
+<td align="center"><a href="#illo28">92</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Sunset by the Sea</span></td>
+<td align="center">&#8220;</td>
+<td align="center"><a href="#illo29">93</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Twin Tigers of the Sea&mdash;the Savage Barracuda</span></td>
+<td align="center">&#8220;</td>
+<td align="center"><a href="#illo30">98</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Happy Pastime of Bonefishing</span></td>
+<td align="center">&#8220;</td>
+<td align="center"><a href="#illo31">99</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Gamest Fish That Swims</span></td>
+<td align="center">&#8220;</td>
+<td align="center"><a href="#illo32">110</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">A Waahoo</span></td>
+<td align="center">&#8220;</td>
+<td align="center"><a href="#illo33">111</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">At Long Key, the Lonely Coral Shore Where the Sun
+Shines White All Day and the Stars Shine White
+All Night</span></td>
+<td align="center">&#8220;</td>
+<td align="center"><a href="#illo34">144</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Famous Stunt of a Marlin Swordfish, &#8220;Walking
+on His Tail&#8221;</span></td>
+<td align="center">&#8220;</td>
+<td align="center"><a href="#illo35">145</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Surging in a Half-circle</span></td>
+<td align="center">&#8220;</td>
+<td align="center"><a href="#illo36">148</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Broadbill Swordfish on the Surface&mdash;the Most
+Thrilling Sight to a Sea Angler</span></td>
+<td align="center">&#8220;</td>
+<td align="center"><a href="#illo37">149</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Shining in the Sunlight</span></td>
+<td align="center">&#8220;</td>
+<td align="center"><a href="#illo38">156</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Throwing White Water Like the Explosion of a
+Torpedo</span></td>
+<td align="center">&#8220;</td>
+<td align="center"><a href="#illo39">157</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">A Long, Slim Sailfish Wiggling in the Air</span></td>
+<td align="center">&#8220;</td>
+<td align="center"><a href="#illo40">160</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Fighting a Broadbill Swordfish</span></td>
+<td align="center">&#8220;</td>
+<td align="center"><a href="#illo41">161</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Only Photograph Ever Taken of Leaping Broadbill
+Swordfish</span></td>
+<td align="center">&#8220;</td>
+<td align="center"><a href="#illo42">180</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Xiphias Gladius, the Broadsworded Gladiator of the
+Sea</span></td>
+<td align="center">&#8220;</td>
+<td align="center"><a href="#illo43">181</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">A Straightaway Greyhound Leap, Marvelous for Its
+Speed and Wildness</span></td>
+<td align="center">&#8220;</td>
+<td align="center"><a href="#illo44">188</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Like a Leaping Specter</span></td>
+<td align="center">&#8220;</td>
+<td align="center"><a href="#illo45">189</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Walking on His Tail</span></td>
+<td align="center">&#8220;</td>
+<td align="center"><a href="#illo46">192</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">A Magnificent Flashing Leap. This Perfect Picture
+Considered by Author to Be Worth His Five
+Years&#8217; Labor and Patience</span></td>
+<td align="center">&#8220;</td>
+<td align="center"><a href="#illo47">193</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Tired Out&mdash;the Last Slow Heave</span></td>
+<td align="center">&#8220;</td>
+<td align="center"><a href="#illo48">196</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Hauled Aboard with Block and Tackle</span></td>
+<td align="center">&#8220;</td>
+<td align="center"><a href="#illo49">197</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">R. C. On the Job</span></td>
+<td align="center">&#8220;</td>
+<td align="center"><a href="#illo50">204</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">304 Pounds</span></td>
+<td align="center">&#8220;</td>
+<td align="center"><a href="#illo51">205</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">R. C. Grey and Record Marlin</span></td>
+<td align="center">&#8220;</td>
+<td align="center"><a href="#illo52">205</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">328-pound Record Marlin by R. C. Grey. Shapeliest
+and Most Beautiful Specimen Ever Taken</span></td>
+<td align="center">&#8220;</td>
+<td align="center"><a href="#illo53">208</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Sunset Over Clemente Channel</span></td>
+<td align="center">&#8220;</td>
+<td align="center"><a href="#illo54">209</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">A Blue-finned Plugger of the Deep&mdash;138-pound Tuna</span></td>
+<td align="center">&#8220;</td>
+<td align="center"><a href="#illo55">244</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Avalon, the Beautiful</span></td>
+<td align="center">&#8220;</td>
+<td align="center"><a href="#illo56">245</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The Old Avalon Barge Where the Gulls Fish and
+Scream</span></td>
+<td align="center">&#8220;</td>
+<td align="center"><a href="#illo57">252</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">The End of the Day off Catalina Island</span></td>
+<td align="center">&#8220;</td>
+<td align="center"><a href="#illo58">253</a></td></tr>
+
+<tr>
+<td align="left"><span class="smcap">Seal Rocks</span></td>
+<td align="center">&#8220;</td>
+<td align="center"><a href="#illo59">264</a></td></tr>
+
+</table></div>
+
+<hr class="large" />
+
+<h2><a name="ZANE_GREY" id="ZANE_GREY">ZANE GREY</a></h2>
+
+<div class="centerbox bbox">
+<h3>By W. Livingston Larned</h3>
+
+<p>Been to Avalon with Grey ... been most everywhere;<br />
+Chummed with him and fished with him in every Sportsman&#8217;s<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">lair.</span><br />
+Helped him with the white Sea-bass and Barracuda haul,<br />
+Shared the Tuna&#8217;s sprayful sport and heard his Hunter-call,<br />
+Me an&#8217; Grey are fishin&#8217; friends.... Pals of rod and reel,<br />
+Whether it&#8217;s the sort that fights ... or th&#8217; humble eel,<br />
+On and on, through Wonderland ... winds a-blowin&#8217; free,<br />
+Catching all th&#8217; fins that grow ... Sportsman Grey an&#8217; Me.<br />
+<br />
+Been to Florida with Zane ... scouting down th&#8217; coast;<br />
+Whipped the deep for Tarpon, too, that natives love th&#8217; most.<br />
+Seen the smiling, Tropic isles that pass, in green review,<br />
+Gathered cocoanut and moss where Southern skies were blue.<br />
+Seen him laugh that boyish laugh, when things were goin&#8217;<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">right;</span><br />
+Helped him beach our little boat and kindle fires at night.<br />
+Comrades of the Open Way, the Treasure-Trove of Sea,<br />
+Port Ahoy and who cares where, with Mister Grey an&#8217; Me!<br />
+<br />
+Been to Western lands with Grey ... hunted fox and deer.<br />
+Seen the Grizzly&#8217;s ugly face with danger lurkin&#8217; near.<br />
+Slept on needles, near th&#8217; sky, and marked th&#8217; round moon<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">rise</span><br />
+Over purpling peaks of snow that hurt a fellow&#8217;s eyes.<br />
+Gone, like Indians, under brush and to some mystic place&mdash;<br />
+Home of red men, long since gone, to join their dying race.<br />
+Yes ... we&#8217;ve chummed it, onward&mdash;outward ... mountain,<br />
+<span style="margin-left: 2em;">wood, and Key,</span><br />
+At the quiet readin&#8217;-table ... Sportsman Grey an&#8217; Me.<br />
+</p></div>
+
+<hr class="large" />
+<h2><a name="TALES_OF_FISHES" id="TALES_OF_FISHES"></a>TALES OF FISHES</h2>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="I" id="I"></a>I</h2>
+
+<h3>BYME-BY-TARPON</h3>
+
+<p>To capture the fish is not all of the fishing. Yet there are
+circumstances which make this philosophy hard to accept. I have in mind
+an incident of angling tribulation which rivals the most poignant
+instant of my boyhood, when a great trout flopped for one sharp moment
+on a mossy stone and then was gone like a golden flash into the depths
+of the pool.</p>
+
+<p>Some years ago I followed Attalano, my guide, down the narrow Mexican
+street of Tampico to the bank of the broad Panuco. Under the rosy dawn
+the river quivered like a restless opal. The air, sweet with the song of
+blackbird and meadowlark, was full of cheer; the rising sun shone in
+splendor on the water and the long line of graceful palms lining the
+opposite bank, and the tropical forest beyond, with its luxuriant
+foliage festooned by gray moss. Here was a day to warm the heart of any
+fisherman; here was the beautiful river, celebrated in many a story;
+here was the famous guide, skilled with oar and <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span>gaff, rich in
+experience. What sport I would have; what treasure of keen sensation
+would I store; what flavor of life would I taste this day! Hope burns
+always in the heart of a fisherman.</p>
+
+<p>Attalano was in harmony with the day and the scene. He had a cheering
+figure, lithe and erect, with a springy stride, bespeaking the Montezuma
+blood said to flow in his Indian veins. Clad in a colored cotton shirt,
+blue jeans, and Spanish girdle, and treading the path with brown feet
+never deformed by shoes, he would have stopped an artist. Soon he bent
+his muscular shoulders to the oars, and the ripples circling from each
+stroke hardly disturbed the calm Panuco. Down the stream glided long
+Indian canoes, hewn from trees and laden with oranges and bananas. In
+the stern stood a dark native wielding an enormous paddle with ease.
+Wild-fowl dotted the glassy expanse; white cranes and pink flamingoes
+graced the reedy bars; red-breasted kingfishers flew over with friendly
+screech. The salt breeze kissed my cheek; the sun shone with the
+comfortable warmth Northerners welcome in spring; from over the white
+sand-dunes far below came the faint boom of the ever-restless Gulf.</p>
+
+<p>We trolled up the river and down, across from one rush-lined lily-padded
+shore to the other, for miles and miles with never a strike. But I was
+content, for over me had been cast the dreamy, care-dispelling languor
+of the South.</p>
+
+<p>When the first long, low swell of the changing tide rolled in, a
+stronger breeze raised little dimpling waves and chased along the water
+in dark, quick-moving frowns. All at once the tarpon began to <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span>show,
+to splash, to play, to roll. It was as though they had been awakened by
+the stir and murmur of the miniature breakers. Broad bars of silver
+flashed in the sunlight, green backs cleft the little billows, wide
+tails slapped lazily on the water. Every yard of river seemed to hold a
+rolling fish. This sport increased until the long stretch of water,
+which had been as calm as St. Regis Lake at twilight, resembled the
+quick current of a Canadian stream. It was a fascinating, wonderful
+sight. But it was also peculiarly exasperating, because when the fish
+roll in this sportive, lazy way they will not bite. For an hour I
+trolled through this whirlpool of flying spray and twisting tarpon, with
+many a salty drop on my face, hearing all around me the whipping crash
+of breaking water.</p>
+
+<p><a name="illo2" id="illo2"></a></p><div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/illus017.jpg" class="jpg ispace" width="500" height="288" alt="TARPON THROWING HOOK" title="" />
+<span class="caption">TARPON THROWING HOOK</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><a name="illo3" id="illo3"></a></p><div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
+<img src="images/illus018a.jpg" class="ispace jpg" width="400" height="289" alt="LEAPING TARPON" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
+<img src="images/illus018b.jpg" class="jpg smispace" width="400" height="290" alt="" title="" />
+<span class="caption">LEAPING TARPON</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>&#8220;Byme-by-tarpon,&#8221; presently remarked Attalano, favoring me with the
+first specimen of his English.</p>
+
+<p>The rolling of the tarpon diminished, and finally ceased as noon
+advanced.</p>
+
+<p>No more did I cast longing eyes upon those huge bars of silver. They
+were buried treasure. The breeze quickened as the flowing tide gathered
+strength, and together they drove the waves higher. Attalano rowed
+across the river into the outlet of one of the lagoons. This narrow
+stream was unruffled by wind; its current was sluggish and its muddy
+waters were clarifying under the influence of the now fast-rising tide.</p>
+
+<p>By a sunken log near shore we rested for lunch. I found the shade of the
+trees on the bank rather pleasant, and became interested in a blue
+heron, a russet-colored duck, and a brown-and-black snipe, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span>all sitting
+on the sunken log. Near by stood a tall crane watching us solemnly, and
+above in the tree-top a parrot vociferously proclaimed his knowledge of
+our presence. I was wondering if he objected to our invasion, at the
+same time taking a most welcome bite for lunch, when directly in front
+of me the water flew up as if propelled by some submarine power. Framed
+in a shower of spray I saw an immense tarpon, with mouth agape and fins
+stiff, close in pursuit of frantically leaping little fish.</p>
+
+<p>The fact that Attalano dropped his sandwich attested to the large size
+and close proximity of the tarpon. He uttered a grunt of satisfaction
+and pushed out the boat. A school of feeding tarpon closed the mouth of
+the lagoon. Thousands of mullet had been cut off from their river haunts
+and were now leaping, flying, darting in wild haste to elude the great
+white monsters. In the foamy swirls I saw streaks of blood.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Byme-by-tarpon!&#8221; called Attalano, warningly.</p>
+
+<p>Shrewd guide! I had forgotten that I held a rod. When the realization
+dawned on me that sooner or later I would feel the strike of one of
+these silver tigers a keen, tingling thrill of excitement quivered over
+me. The primitive man asserted himself; the instinctive lust to conquer
+and to kill seized me, and I leaned forward, tense and strained with
+suspended breath and swelling throat.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly the strike came, so tremendous in its energy that it almost
+pulled me from my seat; so quick, fierce, bewildering that I could think
+of nothing but to hold on. Then the water split with a hissing sound to
+let out a great tarpon, long as a <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span>door, seemingly as wide, who shot
+up and up into the air. He wagged his head and shook it like a
+struggling wolf. When he fell back with a heavy splash, a rainbow,
+exquisitely beautiful and delicate, stood out of the spray, glowed,
+paled, and faded.</p>
+
+<p><a name="illo4" id="illo4"></a></p><div class="figcenter" style="width: 289px;">
+<img src="images/illus021.jpg" class="jpg ispace" width="289" height="450" alt="SAVALO, OR SILVER KING" title="" />
+<span class="caption">SAVALO, OR SILVER KING</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><a name="illo5" id="illo5"></a></p><div class="figcenter" style="width: 269px;">
+<img src="images/illus022.jpg" class="jpg ispace" width="269" height="449" alt="THESE WILD FOWL HAVE THE WONDERFUL BEAUTY AND SPEED OF
+FALCONS" title="" />
+<span class="caption">THESE WILD FOWL HAVE THE WONDERFUL BEAUTY AND SPEED OF
+FALCONS</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>Five times he sprang toward the blue sky, and as many he plunged down
+with a thunderous crash. The reel screamed. The line sang. The rod,
+which I had thought stiff as a tree, bent like a willow wand. The silver
+king came up far astern and sheered to the right in a long, wide curve,
+leaving behind a white wake. Then he sounded, while I watched the line
+with troubled eyes. But not long did he sulk. He began a series of
+magnificent tactics new in my experience. He stood on his tail, then on
+his head; he sailed like a bird; he shook himself so violently as to
+make a convulsive, shuffling sound; he dove, to come up covered with
+mud, marring his bright sides; he closed his huge gills with a slap and,
+most remarkable of all, he rose in the shape of a crescent, to
+straighten out with such marvelous power that he seemed to actually
+crack like a whip.</p>
+
+<p>After this performance, which left me in a condition of mental
+aberration, he sounded again, to begin a persistent, dragging pull which
+was the most disheartening of all his maneuvers; for he took yard after
+yard of line until he was far away from me, out in the Panuco. We
+followed him, and for an hour crossed to and fro, up and down, humoring
+him, responding to his every caprice, as if he verily were a king. At
+last, with a strange inconsistency more human than fishlike, he returned
+to the scene of his fatal error, and here in the mouth of the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span>smaller
+stream he leaped once more. But it was only a ghost of his former
+efforts&mdash;a slow, weary rise, showing he was tired. I could see it in the
+weakening wag of his head. He no longer made the line whistle.</p>
+
+<p>I began to recover the long line. I pumped and reeled him closer.
+Reluctantly he came, not yet broken in spirit, though his strength had
+sped. He rolled at times with a shade of the old vigor, with a pathetic
+manifestation of the temper that became a hero. I could see the long,
+slender tip of his dorsal fin, then his broad tail and finally the gleam
+of his silver side. Closer he came and slowly circled around the boat,
+eying me with great, accusing eyes. I measured him with a fisherman&#8217;s
+glance. What a great fish! Seven feet, I calculated, at the very least.</p>
+
+<p>At this triumphant moment I made a horrible discovery. About six feet
+from the leader the strands of the line had frayed, leaving only one
+thread intact. My blood ran cold and the clammy sweat broke out on my
+brow. My empire was not won; my first tarpon was as if he had never
+been. But true to my fishing instincts, I held on morosely; tenderly I
+handled him; with brooding care I riveted my eye on the frail place in
+my line, and gently, ever so gently, I began to lead the silver king
+shoreward. Every smallest move of his tail meant disaster to me, so when
+he moved it I let go of the reel. Then I would have to coax him to swim
+back again.</p>
+
+<p>The boat touched the bank. I stood up and carefully headed my fish
+toward the shore, and slid <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span>his head and shoulders out on the lily-pads.
+One moment he lay there, glowing like mother-of-pearl, a rare fish,
+fresh from the sea. Then, as Attalano warily reached for the leader, he
+gave a gasp, a flop that deluged us with muddy water, and a lunge that
+spelled freedom.</p>
+
+<p>I watched him swim slowly away with my bright leader dragging beside
+him. Is it not the loss of things which makes life bitter? What we have
+gained is ours; what is lost is gone, whether fish, or use, or love, or
+name, or fame.</p>
+
+<p>I tried to put on a cheerful aspect for my guide. But it was too soon.
+Attalano, wise old fellow, understood my case. A smile, warm and living,
+flashed across his dark face as he spoke:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Byme-by-tarpon.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Which defined his optimism and revived the failing spark within my
+breast. It was, too, in the nature of a prophecy.</p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="II" id="II"></a>II</h2>
+
+<h3>THE ISLAND OF THE DEAD</h3>
+
+<p>Strange wild adventures fall to the lot of a fisherman as well as to
+that of a hunter. On board the <i>Monterey</i>, from Havana to Progreso,
+Yucatan, I happened to fall into conversation with an English
+globe-trotter who had just come from the Mont Pel&eacute;e eruption. Like all
+those wandering Englishmen, this one was exceedingly interesting. We
+exchanged experiences, and I felt that I had indeed much to see and
+learn of the romantic Old World.</p>
+
+<p>In Merida, that wonderful tropic city of white towers and white streets
+and white-gowned women, I ran into this Englishman again. I wanted to
+see the magnificent ruins of Uxmal and Ake and Labna. So did he. I knew
+it would be a hard trip from Muna to the ruins, and so I explained. He
+smiled in a way to make me half ashamed of my doubts. We went together,
+and I found him to be a splendid fellow. We parted without knowing each
+other&#8217;s names. I had no idea what he thought of me, but I thought he
+must have been somebody.</p>
+
+<p>While traveling around the coast of Yucatan I had heard of the wild and
+lonely Alacranes Reef <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span>where lighthouse-keepers went insane from
+solitude, and where wonderful fishes inhabited the lagoons. That was
+enough for me. Forthwith I meant to go to Alacranes.</p>
+
+<p>Further inquiry brought me meager but fascinating news of an island on
+that lonely coral reef, called <i>Isla de la Muerte</i> (the Island of the
+Dead). Here was the haunt of a strange bird, called by Indians
+<i>rabihorcado</i>, and it was said to live off the booby, another strange
+sea-bird. The natives of the coast solemnly averred that when the
+<i>rabihorcado</i> could not steal fish from the booby he killed himself by
+hanging in the brush. I did not believe such talk. The Spanish appeared
+to be <i>rabi</i>, meaning rabies, and <i>horcar</i>, to hang.</p>
+
+<p>I set about to charter a boat, and found the great difficulty in
+procuring one to be with the Yucatecan government. No traveler had ever
+before done such a thing. It excited suspicion. The officials thought
+the United States was looking for a coaling-station. Finally, through
+the help of the Ward line agent and the consul I prevailed upon them to
+give me such papers as appeared necessary. Then my Indian boatmen
+interested a crew of six, and I chartered a two-masted canoe-shaped bark
+called the <i>Xpit</i>.</p>
+
+<p>The crew of the <i>Hispaniola</i>, with the never-to-be-forgotten John Silver
+and the rest of the pirates of Treasure Island, could not have been a
+more villainous and piratical gang than this of the bark <i>Xpit</i>. I was
+advised not to take the trip alone. But it appeared impossible to find
+any one to accompany me. I grew worried, yet determined not to miss the
+opportunity.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span></p><p>Strange to relate, as I was conversing on the dock with a ship captain
+and the agent of the Ward line, lamenting the necessity of sailing for
+Alacranes alone, some one near by spoke up, &#8220;Take me!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>In surprise I wheeled to see my English acquaintance who had visited the
+interior of Yucatan with me. I greeted him, thanked him, but of course
+did not take him seriously, and I proceeded to expound the nature of my
+venture. To my further surprise, he not only wanted to go, but he was
+enthusiastic.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But it&#8217;s a hard, wild trip,&#8221; I protested. &#8220;Why, that crew of
+barefooted, red-shirted Canary-Islanders have got me scared! Besides,
+you don&#8217;t know me!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, you don&#8217;t know me, either,&#8221; he replied, with his winning smile.</p>
+
+<p>Then I awoke to my own obtuseness and to the fact that here was a real
+man, in spite of the significance of a crest upon his linen.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;If you&#8217;ll take a chance on me I&#8217;ll certainly take one on you,&#8221; I
+replied, and told him who I was, and that the Ward-line agent and
+American consul would vouch for me.</p>
+
+<p>He offered his hand with the simple reply, &#8220;My name is C&mdash;&mdash;.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>If before I had imagined he was somebody, I now knew it. And that was
+how I met the kindest man, the finest philosopher, the most unselfish
+comrade, the greatest example and influence that it has ever been my
+good fortune to know upon my trips by land or sea. I learned this during
+our wonderful trip to the Island of the Dead. He never thought of
+himself. Hardship to him was nothing. He had no fear of the sea, nor of
+men, nor of death. It <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span>seemed he never rested, never slept, never let
+anybody do what he could do instead.</p>
+
+<p>That night we sailed for Alacranes. It was a white night of the tropics,
+with a million stars blinking in the blue dome overhead, and the
+Caribbean Sea like a shadowed opal, calm and rippling and shimmering.
+The <i>Xpit</i> was not a bark of comfort. It had a bare deck and an empty
+hold. I could not stay below in that gloomy, ill-smelling pit, so I
+tried to sleep on deck. I lay on a hatch under the great boom, and what
+with its creaking, and the hollow roar of the sail, and the wash of the
+waves, and the dazzling starlight, I could not sleep. C. sat on a coil
+of rope, smoked, and watched in silence. I wondered about him then.</p>
+
+<p>Sunrise on the Caribbean was glorious to behold&mdash;a vast burst of silver
+and gold over a level and wrinkling blue sea. By day we sailed, tacking
+here and there, like lost mariners standing for some far-off unknown
+shore. That night a haze of clouds obscured the stars, and it developed
+that our red-shirted skipper steered by the stars. We indeed became lost
+mariners. They sounded with a greased lead and determined our latitude
+by the color and character of the coral or sand that came up on the
+lead. Sometimes they knew where we were and at others they did not have
+any more idea than had I.</p>
+
+<p>On the second morning out we reached Alacranes lighthouse; and when I
+saw the flat strip of sand, without a tree or bush to lend it grace and
+color, the bleak lighthouse, and the long, lonely reaches of barren
+reefs from which there came incessant moaning, I did not wonder that two
+former lighthouse-keepers <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span>had gone insane. The present keeper received
+me with the welcome always accorded a visitor to out-of-the-world
+places. He corroborated all that my Indian sailors had claimed for the
+<i>rabihorcado</i>, and added the interesting information that
+lighthouse-keepers desired the extinction of the birds because the
+guano, deposited by them on the roofs of the keepers&#8217; houses, poisoned
+the rain water&mdash;all they had to drink.</p>
+
+<p>I climbed the narrow, spiral stair to the lighthouse tower, and there,
+apparently lifted into the cloud-navigated sky, I awakened to the real
+wonder of coral reefs. Ridges of white and brown showed their teeth
+against the crawling, tireless, insatiate sea. Islets of dead coral
+gleamed like bleached bone, and beds of live coral, amber as wine, lay
+wreathed in restless surf. From near to far extended the rollers, the
+curving channels, and the shoals, all colorful, all quivering with the
+light of jewels. Golden sand sloped into the gray-green of shallow
+water, and this shaded again into darker green, which in turn merged
+into purple, reaching away to the far barrier reef, a white wall against
+the blue, heaving ocean.</p>
+
+<p>The crew had rowed us ashore with my boatmen Manuel and Augustine. And
+then the red-shirted captain stated he would like to go back to Progreso
+and return for us at our convenience. Hesitating over this, I finally
+gave permission, on the promise that he would bring back the <i>Xpit</i> in
+one week.</p>
+
+<p>So they sailed away, and left us soon to find out that we were marooned
+on a desert island. When I saw how C. took it I was glad of our enforced
+stay. Solitude and loneliness pervaded Alacranes. Of all the places I
+had visited, this island was the most hauntingly lonely.</p>
+
+<p><a name="illo6" id="illo6"></a></p><div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/illus031.jpg" class="jpg ispace" width="500" height="273" alt="RABIHORCADO" title="" />
+<span class="caption">RABIHORCADO</span></div>
+
+<p><a name="illo7" id="illo7"></a></p><div class="figcenter" style="width: 335px;">
+<img src="images/illus032.jpg" class="jpg ispace" width="335" height="500" alt="THE BOOBIES HAD NO FEAR OF MAN, BUT BOTH YOUNG AND OLD
+WOULD PICK WITH THEIR SHARP BILLS" title="" />
+<span class="caption">THE BOOBIES HAD NO FEAR OF MAN, BUT BOTH YOUNG AND OLD
+WOULD PICK WITH THEIR SHARP BILLS</span></div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span>It must have struck C. the same way, and even more powerfully than it
+had me. He was a much older man, and, though so unfailingly cheerful and
+helpful, he seemed to me to desire loneliness. He did not fish or shoot.
+His pleasure appeared to be walking the strand, around and around the
+little island, gathering bits of coral and shells and seaweeds and
+strange things cast up by the tides. For hours he would sit high on the
+lighthouse stairway and gaze out over the variegated mosaic of colored
+reefs. My bed was a hammock in the loft of the keeper&#8217;s house and it
+hung close to an open door. At night I woke often, and I would look out
+upon the lonely beach and sea. When the light flashed its long wheeling
+gleam out into the pale obscurity of the night it always showed C.&#8217;s
+dark figure on the lonely beach. I got into the habit of watching for
+him, and never, at any time I happened to awake, did I fail to see him
+out there. How strange he looms to me now! But I thought it was natural
+then. The loneliness of that coral reef haunted me. The sound of the
+sea, eternally slow and sad and moaning, haunted me like a passion. Men
+are the better for solitude.</p>
+
+<p>Our bark, the <i>Xpit</i>, did not come back for us. Day by day we scanned
+the heaving sea, far out beyond the barrier reef, until I began to feel
+like Crusoe upon his lonely isle. We had no way to know then that our
+crew had sailed twice from Progreso, getting lost the first time, and
+getting <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span>drunk the second, eventually returning to the home port. Some
+misfortunes turn out to be blessings.</p>
+
+<p>What adventures I had at Alacranes! But, alas! I cannot relate a single
+story about really catching a fish. There were many and ferocious fish
+that would rush any bait I tried, only I could not hold them. My tackle
+was not equal to what it is now. Perhaps, however, if it had been it
+would have been smashed just the same.</p>
+
+<p>In front of the lighthouse there had been built a little plank dock,
+running out twenty yards or so. The water was about six feet deep, and a
+channel of varying width meandered between the coral reefs out to the
+deep blue sea. This must have been a lane for big fish to come inside
+the barrier. Almost always there were great shadows drifting around in
+the water. First I tried artificial baits. Some one, hoping to convert
+me, had given me a whole box of those ugly, murderous plug-baits made
+famous by Robert H. Davis. Whenever I made a cast with one of these a
+big fish would hit it and either strip the hooks off or break my tackle.
+Some of these fish leaped clear. They looked like barracuda to me, only
+they were almost as silvery as a tarpon. One looked ten feet long and as
+big around as a telegraph pole. When this one smashed the water white
+and leaped, Manuel yelled, &#8220;<i>Pecuda!</i>&#8221; I tried hard to catch a specimen,
+and had a good many hooked, but they always broke away. I did not know
+then, as I know now, that barracuda grow to twelve feet in the
+Caribbean. That fact is mentioned in records and natural histories.</p>
+
+<p>Out in the deeper lagoons I hooked huge fish that <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span>swam off
+ponderously, dragging the skiff until my line parted. Once I was
+fortunate enough to see one, which fact dispelled any possibility of its
+being a shark. Manuel called it &#8220;<i>Cherna!</i>&#8221; It looked like a giant
+sea-bass and would have weighed at least eight hundred pounds. The color
+was lighter than any sea-bass I ever studied. My Indian boatmen claimed
+this fish was a man-eater and that he and his crew had once fought one
+all day and then it broke away. The fish I saw was huge enough to
+swallow a man, that was certain. I think this species must have been the
+great June-fish of the Gulf. I hooked one once at the mouth of the
+Panuco River in Mexico and it nearly swamped the boat.</p>
+
+<p><a name="illo8" id="illo8"></a></p><div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/illus035.jpg" class="jpg ispace" width="500" height="312" alt="YOUNG BOOBIES" title="" />
+<span class="caption">YOUNG BOOBIES</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><a name="illo9" id="illo9"></a></p><div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/illus036.jpg" class="jpg ispace" width="500" height="291" alt="SUGGESTIVE OF A WILD, WIND-SWEPT ISLAND OF THE SEA" title="" />
+<span class="caption">SUGGESTIVE OF A WILD, WIND-SWEPT ISLAND OF THE SEA</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>Soon my tackle was all used up, and, for want of better, I had to use
+tiny hooks and thread lines&mdash;because I was going to fish, by hook or
+crook! This method, however, which I learned first of all, is not to be
+despised. Whenever I get my hand on a thin, light, stiff reed pole and a
+long, light line of thread with a little hook, then I revert to boyhood
+days and sunfish and chubs and shiners and bullheads. Could any
+fisherman desire more joy? Those days are the best.</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i10">The child is father of the man</span><br />
+<span class="i10">And I could wish my days to be</span><br />
+<span class="i10">Bound each to each by natural piety.</span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>In the shallow water near the dock there always floated a dense school
+of little fish like sardines. They drifted, floated, hovered beside the
+dock, and when one of the big fish would rush near they would make a
+breaking roar on the surface. Of <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span>me they evinced no fear whatever. But
+no bait, natural or artificial, that I could discover, tempted them to
+bite. This roused my cantankerous spirit to catch some of those little
+fish or else fall inestimably in my own regard. I noted that whenever I
+cast over the school it disintegrated. A circle widened from the center,
+and where had been a black mass of fish was only sand. But as my hook
+settled to the bottom the dark circle narrowed and closed until the
+school was densely packed as before. Whereupon I tied several of the
+tiny hooks together with a bit of lead, and, casting that out, I waited
+till all was black around my line, then I jerked. I snagged one of the
+little fish and found him to be a beautiful, silvery, flat-sided shiner
+of unknown species to me. Every cast I made thereafter caught one of
+them. And they were as good to eat as a sardine and better than a
+mullet.</p>
+
+<p>My English comrade, C., sometimes went with me, and when he did go, the
+interest and kindly curiosity and pleasure upon his face were a constant
+source of delight to me. I knew that I was as new a species to him as
+the little fish were to me. But C. had become so nearly a perfectly
+educated man that nothing surprised him, nothing made him wonder. He
+sympathized, he understood, he could put himself in the place of
+another. What worried me, however, was the simple fact that he did not
+care to fish or shoot for the so-called sport of either. I think my
+education on a higher plane began at Alacranes, in the society of that
+lonely Englishman. Somehow I have gravitated toward the men who have
+been good for me.</p>
+
+<p><a name="illo10" id="illo10"></a></p><div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/illus039.jpg" class="jpg ispace" width="500" height="299" alt="NESTS EVERYWHERE IN THE SAND AND MOSS" title="" />
+<span class="caption">NESTS EVERYWHERE IN THE SAND AND MOSS</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><a name="illo11" id="illo11"></a></p><div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/illus040.jpg" class="jpg ispace" width="500" height="282" alt="THESE HUGE BLACK RABIHORCADOS WERE THE LARGEST SPECIES OF
+FRIGATE OR MAN-OF-WAR BIRD" title="" />
+<span class="caption">THESE HUGE BLACK RABIHORCADOS WERE THE LARGEST SPECIES OF
+FRIGATE OR MAN-OF-WAR BIRD</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span>But C. enjoyed action as well as contemplation. Once out on the shoals
+when Manuel harpooned a huge hawk-bill turtle&mdash;the valuable species from
+which the amber shell is derived&mdash;we had a thrilling and dangerous ride.
+For the turtle hauled us at a terrific rate through the water. Then C.
+joined in with the yells of the Indians. He was glad, however, when the
+turtle left us stranded high upon a coral bed.</p>
+
+<p>On moonlight nights when the tide was low C. especially enjoyed wading
+on the shoals and hunting for the <i>langustas</i>, or giant lobsters. This
+was exciting sport. We used barrel-hoops with nets, and when we saw a
+lobster shining in the shallow water we waded noiselessly close to swoop
+down upon him with a great splash. I was always afraid of these huge
+crayfish, but C. was not. His courage might have been predatory, for he
+certainly liked to eat lobster. But he had a scare one night when a
+devilfish or tremendous ray got between him and the shore and made the
+water fly aloft in a geyser. It was certainly fun for me to see that
+dignified Englishman make tracks across the shoal.</p>
+
+<p>To conclude about C., when I went on to Mexico City with him I met
+friends of his there, a lord and a duke traveling incognito. C. himself
+was a peer of England and a major in the English army. But I never
+learned this till we got to Tampico, where they went with me for the
+tarpon-fishing. They were rare fine fellows. L., the little Englishman,
+could do anything under the sun, and it was from him I got my type for
+Castleton, the Englishman, in <i>The Light of Western Stars</i>. I have been
+told <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span>that never was there an Englishman on earth like the one I
+portrayed in my novel. But my critics never fished with Lord L.!</p>
+
+<p>These English friends went with me to the station to bid me good-by and
+good luck. We were to part there, they to take ship for London, and I to
+take train for the headwaters of the Panuco River, down which unknown
+streams I was to find my way through jungle to the Gulf. Here I was told
+that C. had lost his only son in the Boer War, and since then had never
+been able to rest or sleep or remain in one place. That stunned me, for
+I remembered that he had seemed to live only to forget himself, to think
+of others. It was a great lesson to me. And now, since I have not heard
+from him during the four years of the world war, I seem to divine that
+he has &#8220;gone west&#8221;; he has taken his last restless, helpful journey,
+along with the best and noblest of England&#8217;s blood.</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p>Because this fish-story has so little of fish in it does not prove that
+a man cannot fish for other game than fish. I remember when I was a boy
+that I went with my brother&mdash;the R. C. and the Reddy of the accompanying
+pages&mdash;to fish for bass at Dillon&#8217;s Falls in Ohio. Alas for Bill Dilg
+and Bob Davis, who never saw this blue-blooded home of bronze-back
+black-bass! In the heat of the day my brother and I jabbed our poles
+into the bank, and set off to amuse ourselves some other way for a
+while. When we returned my pole was pulled down and wabbling so as to
+make a commotion in the water. Quickly I grasped it and pulled, while
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span>Reddy stared wide-eyed and open-mouthed. Surely a big bass had taken my
+bait and hooked himself. Never had I felt so heavy and strong a bass!
+The line swished back and forth; my pole bent more and more as I lifted.
+The water boiled and burst in a strange splash. Then! a big duck flew,
+as if by magic, right out from before us. So amazed was I that he nearly
+pulled the pole out of my hands. Reddy yelled wildly. The duck broke the
+line and sped away.... That moment will never be forgotten. It took us
+so long to realize that the duck had swallowed my minnow, hooked
+himself, and happened to be under the surface when we returned.</p>
+
+<p>So the point of my main story, like that of the above, is about how I
+set out to catch fish, and, failing, found for such loss abundant
+recompense.</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p>Manuel and Augustine, my Indian sailors, embarked with me in a boat for
+the Island of the Dead. Millions of marine creatures swarmed in the
+labyrinthine waterways. Then, as we neared the land, &#8220;<i>Rabihorcado!</i>&#8221;
+exclaimed Manuel, pointing to a black cloud hovering over the island.</p>
+
+<p>As we approached the sandy strip I made it out to be about half a mile
+long, lying only a few feet above the level of the sea. Hundreds of
+great, black birds flew out to meet us and sailed over the boat, a
+sable-winged, hoarse-voiced crowd. When we beached I sprang ashore and
+ran up the sand to the edge of green. The whole end of the island was
+white with birds&mdash;large, beautiful, snowy birds with shiny black bars
+across their wings.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span></p><p>&#8220;Boobies,&#8221; said Manuel and motioned me to go forward.</p>
+
+<p>They greeted our approach with the most discordant din it had ever been
+my fortune to hear. A mingling of honk and cackle, it manifested not
+excitement so much as curiosity. I walked among the boobies, and they
+never moved except to pick at me with long, sharp bills. Many were
+sitting on nests, and all around in the sand were nests with eggs, and
+little boobies just hatched, and others in every stage of growth, up to
+big babies of birds like huge balls of pure white wool. I wondered where
+the thousands of mothers were. The young ones showed no concern when I
+picked them up, save to dig into me with curious bills.</p>
+
+<p>I saw an old booby, close by, raise his black-barred wings, and,
+flapping them, start to run across the sand. In this way he launched
+himself into the air and started out to sea. Presently I noticed several
+more flying away, one at a time, while others came sailing back again.
+How they could sail! They had the swift, graceful flight of a falcon.</p>
+
+<p>For a while I puzzled over the significance of this outgoing and
+incoming. Shortly a bird soared overhead, circled with powerful sweep,
+and alighted within ten feet of me. The bird watched me with gray,
+unintelligent eyes. They were stupid, uncanny eyes, yet somehow so fixed
+and staring as to seem accusing. One of the little white balls of wool
+waddled up and, rubbing its fuzzy head against the booby, proclaimed the
+filial relation. After a few rubs and wabbles the young bird opened wide
+its bill and let out shrill cries. The mother bobbed <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span>up and down in
+evident consternation, walked away, came back, and with an eye on me
+plainly sought to pacify her fledgling. Suddenly she put her bill far
+down into the wide-open bill, effectually stifling the cries. Then the
+two boobies stood locked in amazing convulsions. The throat of the
+mother swelled, and a lump passed into and down the throat of the young
+bird. The puzzle of the flying boobies was solved in the startling
+realization that the mother had returned from the sea with a fish in her
+stomach and had disgorged it into the gullet of her offspring.</p>
+
+<p><a name="illo12" id="illo12"></a></p><div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/illus045.jpg" class="jpg ispace" width="500" height="283" alt="RABIHORCADO RISING FROM THEIR EGGS" title="" />
+<span class="caption">RABIHORCADO RISING FROM THEIR EGGS</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><a name="illo13" id="illo13"></a></p><div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/illus046.jpg" class="jpg ispace" width="500" height="288" alt="BOOBIES OF ISLA DE LA MUERTE IN THE CARIBBEAN SEA" title="" />
+<span class="caption">BOOBIES OF ISLA DE LA MUERTE IN THE CARIBBEAN SEA</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>I watched this feat performed dozens of times, and at length scared a
+mother booby into withdrawing her bill and dropping a fish on the sand.
+It was a flying-fish fully ten inches long. I interrupted several little
+dinner-parties, and in each case found the disgorged fish to be of the
+flying species. The boobies flew ten, twenty miles out to the open sea
+for fish, while the innumerable shoals that lay around their island were
+alive with sardine and herring!</p>
+
+<p>I had raised a tremendous row; so, leaving the boobies to quiet down, I
+made my way toward the flocks of <i>rabihorcados</i>. Here and there in the
+thick growth of green weed were boobies squatting on isolated nests. No
+sooner had I gotten close to the <i>rabihorcados</i> than I made sure they
+were the far-famed frigate pelicans, or man-of-war birds. They were as
+tame as the boobies; as I walked among them many did not fly at all.
+Others rose with soft, swishing sound of great wings and floated in a
+circle, uttering deep-throated cries, not unlike the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span>dismal croak of
+ravens. Perfectly built for the air, they were like feathers blown by a
+breeze. Light, thin, long, sharp, with enormous spread of wings,
+beautiful with the beauty of dead, blue-black sheen, and yet hideous,
+too, with their grisly necks and cruel, crooked beaks and vulture eyes,
+they were surely magnificent specimens of winged creation.</p>
+
+<p>Nests of dried weeds littered the ground, and eggs and young were
+everywhere. The little ones were covered with white down, and the
+developing feathers on their wings were turning black. They squalled
+unremittingly, which squalling I decided was not so much on my account
+as because of a swarm of black flies that attacked them when the mothers
+flew away. I was hard put to it myself to keep these flies, large as
+pennies and as flat, from eating me alive. They slipped up my sleeves
+and trousers and their bite made a wasp-sting pleasure by comparison.</p>
+
+<p>By rushing into a flock of <i>rabihorcados</i> I succeeded several times in
+catching one in my hands. And spreading it out, I made guesses as to
+width from tip to tip of wings. None were under seven feet; one measured
+all of eight. They made no strenuous resistance and regarded me with
+cold eyes. Every flock that I put to flight left several dozen little
+ones squalling in the nests; and at one place an old booby waddled to
+the nests and began to maltreat the young <i>rabihorcados</i>. Instincts of
+humanity bade me scare the old brute away until I happened to remember
+the relation existing between the two species. Then I watched. With my
+own eyes I saw that grizzled booby pick and bite and wring <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span>those poor
+little birds with a grim and deadly deliberation. When the mothers, soon
+returning, fluttered down, they did not attack the booby, but protected
+their little ones by covering them with body and wings. Conviction came
+upon me that it was instinctive for the booby to kill the parasitical
+<i>rabihorcado</i>; and likewise instinctive for the <i>rabihorcado</i> to
+preserve the life of the booby.</p>
+
+<p>A shout from Manuel directed me toward the extreme eastern end of the
+island. On the way I discovered many little dead birds, and the farther
+I went the more I found. Among the low bushes were also many old
+<i>rabihorcados</i>, dead and dry. Some were twisted among the network of
+branches, and several were hanging in limp, grotesque, horribly
+suggestive attitudes of death. Manuel had all of the Indian&#8217;s leaning
+toward the mystical, and he believed the <i>rabihorcados</i> had destroyed
+themselves. Starved they may very well have been, but to me the gales of
+that wind-swept, ocean desert accounted for the hanging <i>rabihorcados</i>.
+Still, when face to face with the island, with its strife, and its
+illustration of the survival of the fittest, all that Manuel had claimed
+and more, I had to acknowledge the disquieting force of the thing and
+its stunning blow to an imagined knowledge of life and its secrets.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly Manuel shouted and pointed westward. I saw long white streams
+of sea-birds coming toward the island. My glass showed them to be
+boobies. An instant later thousands of <i>rabihorcados</i> took wing as if
+impelled by a common motive. Manuel ran ahead in his excitement, turning
+to shout to me, and then to point toward the wavering, swelling, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span>white
+streams. I hurried after him, to that end of the island where we had
+landed, and I found the colony of boobies in a state of great
+perturbation. All were squawking, flapping wings, and waddling
+frantically about. Here was fear such as had not appeared on my advent.</p>
+
+<p>Thousands of boobies were returning from deep-sea fishing, and as they
+neared the island they were met and set upon by a swarming army of
+<i>rabihorcados</i>. Darting white and black streaks crossed the blue of sky
+like a changeful web. The air was full of plaintive cries and hoarse
+croaks and the windy rush of wings. So marvelous was this scene of
+incredibly swift action, of kaleidoscopic change, of streaking lines and
+curves, that the tragedy at first was lost upon me. Then the shrieking
+of a booby told me that the robber birds were after their prey. Manuel
+lay flat on the ground to avoid being struck by low-flying birds, but I
+remained standing in order to see the better. Faster and faster circled
+the pursued and pursuers and louder grew the cries and croaks. My gaze
+was bewildered by the endless, eddying stream of birds.</p>
+
+<p>Then I turned my back on sea and beach where this bee-swarm confused my
+vision, and looked to see single boobies whirling here and there with
+two or three black demons in pursuit. I picked out one group and turned
+my glass upon it. Many battles had I seen by field and stream and
+mountain, but this unequal battle by sea eclipsed all. The booby&#8217;s
+mother instinct was to get to her young with the precious fish that
+meant life. And she would have been more than a match for any one thief.
+But she <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span>could not cope successfully with two fierce <i>rabihorcados</i>; for
+one soared above her, resting, watching, while the other darted and
+whirled to the attack. They changed, now one black demon swooping down,
+and then the other, in calculating, pitiless pursuit. How glorious she
+was in poise and swerve and sweep! For what seemed a long time neither
+<i>rabihorcado</i> touched her. What distance she could have placed between
+them but for that faithful mother instinct! She kept circling, ever
+returning, drawn back toward the sand by the magnet of love; and the
+powerful wings seemed slowly to lose strength. Closer the <i>rabihorcados</i>
+swooped and rose and swooped again, till one of them, shooting down like
+a black flash, struck her in the back. The white feathers flew away on
+the wind. She swept up, appeared to pause wearily and quiver, then
+disgorged her fish. It glinted in the sunlight. The <i>rabihorcado</i>
+dropped in easy, downward curve and caught it as it fell.</p>
+
+<p>So the struggle for existence continued till I seemed to see all the
+world before me with its myriads of wild creatures preying upon one
+another; the spirit of nature, unquenchable as the fires of the sun,
+continuing ceaseless and imperturbable in its inscrutable design.</p>
+
+<p>As we rowed away I looked back. Sky of a dull purple, like smoke with
+fire behind it, framed the birds of power and prey in colors suitable to
+their spirit. My ears were filled with the haunting sound of the sea,
+the sad wash of the surf, the harmonious and mournful music of the
+Island of the Dead.</p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="III" id="III"></a>III</h2>
+
+<h3>THE ROYAL PURPLE GAME OF THE SEA</h3>
+
+<p>To the great majority of anglers it may seem unreasonable to place
+swordfishing in a class by itself&mdash;by far the most magnificent sport in
+the world with rod and reel. Yet I do not hesitate to make this
+statement and believe I can prove it.</p>
+
+<p>The sport is young at this writing&mdash;very little has been written by men
+who have caught swordfish. It was this that attracted me. Quite a number
+of fishermen have caught a swordfish. But every one of them will have
+something different to tell you and the information thus gleaned is apt
+to leave you at sea, both metaphorically and actually. Quite a number of
+fishermen, out after yellowtail, have sighted a swordfish, and with the
+assistance of heavy tackle and their boatmen have caught that swordfish.
+Some few men have caught a small swordfish so quickly and easily that
+they cannot appreciate what happened. On the other hand, one very large
+swordfish, a record, was caught in an hour, after a loggy rolling about,
+like a shark, without leaping. But these are not fighting swordfish. Of
+course, under any circumstances, it is an event to catch a swordfish.
+But the accidents, the flukes, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span>the lucky stabs of the game, do not in
+any sense prove what swordfishing is or what it is not.</p>
+
+<p>In August, 1914, I arrived at Avalon with tuna experience behind me,
+with tarpon experience, and all the other kinds of fishing experience,
+even to the hooking of a swordfish in Mexico. I am inclined to confess
+that all this experience made me&mdash;well, somewhat too assured. Any one
+will excuse my enthusiasm. The day of my arrival I met Parker, the
+genial taxidermist of Avalon, and I started to tell him how I wanted my
+swordfish mounted. He interrupted me: &#8220;Say, young fellow, you want to
+catch a swordfish first!&#8221; One of the tuna boatmen gave me a harder jolt.
+He said: &#8220;Well, if you fish steadily for a couple of weeks, maybe you&#8217;ll
+get a strike. And one swordfish caught out of ten strikes is good work!&#8221;
+But Danielson was optimistic and encouraging, as any good boatman ought
+to be. If I had not been fortunate enough to secure Captain Dan as my
+boatman, it is certain that one of the most wonderful fishing
+experiences on record would have fallen to some other fisherman, instead
+of to me.</p>
+
+<p>We went over to Clemente Island, which is thirty-six miles from Catalina
+Island. Clemente is a mountain rising out of the sea, uninhabited,
+lonely, wild, and beautiful. But I will tell about the island later.</p>
+
+<p>The weather was perfect, the conditions were apparently ideal. I shall
+never forget the sight of the first swordfish, with his great
+sickle-shaped tail and his purple fin. Nor am I likely to forget my
+disappointment when he totally ignored the flying-fish bait we trolled
+before him.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span>That experience was but a forerunner to others just like it. Every day
+we sighted one or more swordfish. But we could not get one to take hold.
+Captain Dan said there was more chance of getting a strike from a
+swordfish that was not visible rolling on the surface. Now a flying-fish
+bait makes a rather heavy bait to troll; and as it is imperative to have
+the reel free running and held lightly with the thumb, after a few hours
+such trolling becomes hard work. Hard as it was, it did not wear on me
+like the strain of being always ready for a strike. I doubt if any
+fisherman could stand this strain.</p>
+
+<p>In twenty-one days I had seen nineteen swordfish, several of which had
+leaped playfully, or to shake off the remoras&mdash;parasite, blood-sucking
+little fish&mdash;and the sight of every one had only served to increase my
+fascination. By this time I had realized something of the difficult
+nature of the game, and I had begun to have an inkling of what sport it
+might be. During those twenty-one days we had trolled fifteen hundred
+miles, altogether, up and down that twenty-five-mile coast of rugged
+Clemente. And we had trolled round these fish in every conceivable way.
+I cannot begin to describe my sensations when we circled round a
+swordfish, and they grew more intense and acute as the strain and
+suspense dragged. Captain Dan, of course, was mostly dominated by my
+feeling. All the same, I think the strain affected him on his own
+account.</p>
+
+<p>Then one day Boschen came over to Clemente with Farnsworth&mdash;and let me
+explain, by the way, that Boschen is probably the greatest heavy tackle
+fisherman living. Boschen would not fish for anything <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span>except tuna or
+swordfish, and up to this visit to Clemente he had caught many tuna, but
+only one swordfish, a <i>Xiphias</i>. This is the broadbill, or true,
+swordfish; and he is even rarer, and certainly larger and fiercer, than
+the Marlin, or roundbill, swordfish. This time at Clemente, Boschen
+caught his first Marlin and it weighed over three hundred pounds, leaped
+clear into the air sixty-three times, and gave a spectacular and
+magnificent surface fight that simply beggared description.</p>
+
+<p><a name="illo14" id="illo14"></a></p><div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/illus055.jpg" class="jpg ispace" width="500" height="299" alt="A SWORDFISH LEAPING OFF THE BOLD BLACK SHORE OF CLEMENTE" title="" />
+<span class="caption">A SWORDFISH LEAPING OFF THE BOLD BLACK SHORE OF CLEMENTE</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><a name="illo15" id="illo15"></a></p><div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
+<img src="images/illus056t.jpg" class="ispace jpg" width="400" height="292" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
+<img src="images/illus056b.jpg" class="jpg smispace" width="400" height="289" alt="ON THE RAMPAGE" title="" />
+<span class="caption">ON THE RAMPAGE</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>It made me wild to catch one, of like weight and ferocity. I spent
+several more endless days in vain. Then on the twenty-fifth day, way off
+the east end of Clemente, we sighted a swordfish with a tail almost
+pink. He had just come to those waters and had not yet gotten sunburnt.
+We did not have to circle round him! At long distance he saw my bait,
+and as he went under I saw he had headed for it. I remember that I shook
+all over. And when I felt him take that bait, thrill on thrill
+electrified me. Steadily the line ran off the reel. Then Captain Dan
+leaned over and whispered, hoarsely:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;When you think he&#8217;s had enough throw on your drag and strike. Then wind
+quick and strike again.... Wind and strike! Keep it up till he shows!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Despite my intense excitement, I was calm enough to follow directions.
+But when I struck I felt no weight at all&mdash;no strain on the line.
+Frantically I wound and jerked&mdash;again and again! I never felt him at
+all. Suddenly my line rose&mdash;and then, bewilderingly near the boat, when
+I was looking far off, the water split with a roar and out shot a huge,
+gleaming, white-and-purple fish. He blurred in my <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span>sight. Down he went
+with a crash. I wound the reel like a madman, but I never even half got
+up the slack line. The swordfish had run straight toward the boat. He
+leaped again, in a place I did not expect, and going down, instantly
+came up in another direction. His speed, his savageness, stunned me. I
+could not judge of his strength, for I never felt his weight. The next
+leap I saw him sling the hook. It was a great performance. Then that
+swordfish, finding himself free, leaped for the open sea, and every few
+yards he came out in a clean jump. I watched him, too fascinated to
+count the times he broke water, but he kept it up till he was out of
+sight on the horizon.</p>
+
+<p>At first Captain Dan took the loss harder than I took it. But gradually
+I realized what had happened, and, though I made a brave effort to be
+game and cheerful, I was sick. It did seem hard that, after all those
+twenty-five days of patience and hope and toil, I could not have hooked
+the swordfish. I see now that it was nothing, only an incident, but I
+shall never forget the pang.</p>
+
+<p>That day ended my 1914 experience. The strain had been too hard on me.
+It had taken all this time for me to appreciate what swordfishing might
+be. I assured Captain Dan I would come back in 1915, but at the time he
+did not believe me. He said:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;If you hadn&#8217;t stuck it out so long I wouldn&#8217;t care. Most of the
+fishermen try only a few days and never come back. Don&#8217;t quit now!&#8221;</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p>But I did go back in 1915. Long ago on my lonely desert trips I learned
+the value of companions <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span>and I dreaded the strain of this swordfishing
+game. I needed some one to help lessen it. Besides that, I needed
+snapshot pictures of leaping swordfish, and it was obvious that Captain
+Dan and I would have our hands full when a fish got hooked. We had
+music, books, magazines&mdash;everything that could be thought of.</p>
+
+<p>Murphy, the famous old Avalon fisherman and tackle-maker, had made me a
+double split-bamboo rod, and I had brought the much-talked-of B-Ocean
+reel. This is Boschen&#8217;s invention&mdash;one he was years in perfecting. It
+held fifteen hundred feet of No. 24 line. And I will say now that it is
+a grand reel, the best on the market. But I did not know that then, and
+had to go through the trip with it, till we were both tried out. Lastly,
+and most important, I had worked to get into condition to fight
+swordfish. For weeks I rowed a boat at home to get arms and back in
+shape, and especially my hands. Let no fisherman imagine he can land a
+fighting swordfish with soft hands!</p>
+
+<p>So, prepared for a long, hard strain, like that of 1914, I left Avalon
+hopeful, of course, but serious, determined, and alive to the
+possibilities of failure.</p>
+
+<p>I did not troll across the channel between the islands. There was a big
+swell running, and four hours of it gave me a disagreeable feeling. Now
+and then I got up to see how far off Clemente was. And upon the last of
+these occasions I saw the fins of a swordfish right across our bow. I
+yelled to Captain Dan. He turned the boat aside, almost on top of the
+swordfish. Hurriedly I put a bait on my hook and got it overboard, and
+let the line run. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span>Then I looked about for the swordfish. He had gone
+down.</p>
+
+<p>It seemed then that, simultaneously with the recurrence of a peculiar
+and familiar disappointment, a heavy and powerful fish viciously took my
+bait and swept away. I yelled to Captain Dan:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He&#8217;s got it!&#8221; ...</p>
+
+<p>Captain Dan stopped the engine and came to my side. &#8220;No!&#8221; he exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>Then I replied, &#8220;Look at that line!&#8221; ...</p>
+
+<p>It seemed like a dream. Too good to be true! I let out a shout when I
+hooked him and a yell of joy when he broke water&mdash;a big swordfish, over
+two hundred pounds. What really transpired on Captain Dan&#8217;s boat the
+following few moments I cannot adequately describe. Suffice to say that
+it was violent effort, excitement, and hilarity. I never counted the
+leaps of the swordfish. I never clearly saw him after that first leap.
+He seemed only a gleam in flying spray. Still, I did not make any
+mistakes.</p>
+
+<p>At the end of perhaps a quarter of an hour the swordfish quit his
+surface work and settled down to under-water fighting, and I began to
+find myself. Captain Dan played the phonograph, laughed, and joked while
+I fought the fish. My companions watched my rod and line and the water,
+wide-eyed and mute, as if they could not believe what seemed true.</p>
+
+<p>In about an hour and a half the swordfish came up and, tired out, he
+rolled on the top of the great swells. But he could not be drawn near
+the boat. One little wave of his tail made my rod bend dangerously.
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span>Still, I knew I had him beaten, and I calculated that in another
+hour, perhaps, I could lead him alongside.</p>
+
+<p><a name="illo16" id="illo16"></a></p><div class="centerbox2 bbox"><div class="figleft" style="width: 181px;">
+<img src="images/illus061tl.jpg" class="jpg ispace2" width="181" height="272" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 185px;">
+<img src="images/illus061tr.jpg" class="jpg ispace2" width="185" height="272" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 184px;">
+<img src="images/illus061bl.jpg" class="jpg smispace2" width="181" height="272" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 185px;">
+<img src="images/illus061br.jpg" class="jpg smispace2" width="185" height="272" alt="" title="" />
+</div></div>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="caption">SWORDFISH ON THE SURFACE</span></p>
+
+<p><a name="illo17" id="illo17"></a></p><div class="figcenter" style="width: 296px;">
+<img src="images/illus062.jpg" class="jpg ispace" width="296" height="500" alt="HOLDING HARD" title="" />
+<span class="caption">HOLDING HARD</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>Then, like thunder out of a clear sky, something went wrong with the
+great B-Ocean reel. It worked hard. When a big swell carried the
+swordfish up, pulling out line, the reel rasped.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s freezing on you!&#8221; shouted Captain Dan, with dark glance.</p>
+
+<p>A new reel sometimes clogs and stops from friction and heat. I had had
+von Hofe and other reels freeze. But in this instance, it seemed that
+for the reel to freeze would be simply heartbreaking. Well&mdash;it froze,
+tight as a shut vise! I sat there, clutching the vibrating rod, and I
+watched the swordfish as the swells lifted him. I expected the line to
+break, but, instead, the hook tore out.</p>
+
+<p>Next day we sighted four swordfish and tried in vain to coax one to
+bite.</p>
+
+<p>Next day we sighted ten swordfish, which is a record for one day. They
+were indifferent.</p>
+
+<p>The next three. The next one, with like result. The next day no fish
+were sighted, and that fact encouraged Captain Dan.</p>
+
+<p>The next day, late in the afternoon, I had a strike and hooked a
+swordfish. He leaped twice and threw the hook.</p>
+
+<p>The next day I got eleven jumps out of another before he gracefully
+flung the hook at the boat.</p>
+
+<p>The next day, a big swordfish, with a ragged purple fin, took my bait
+right astern of the boat and sounded deep. I hooked him. Time and time
+again I struck with all my might. The fish did not <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span>seem to mind that.
+He swam along with the boat. He appeared very heavy. I was elated and
+curious.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;s he going to do?&#8221; I kept asking Captain Dan.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Wait!&#8221; he exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p>After six minutes the swordfish came up, probably annoyed by the hook
+fast in him. When he showed his flippers, as Captain Dan called them, we
+all burst out with wonder and awe. As yet I had no reason to fear a
+swordfish.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He&#8217;s a whale!&#8221; yelled Captain Dan.</p>
+
+<p>Probably this fish measured eight feet between his dorsal fin and the
+great curved fluke of his tail, and that would make his total length
+over twelve feet.</p>
+
+<p>No doubt the swordfish associated the thing fast in his jaw with the
+boat, for he suddenly awoke. He lifted himself, wagging his sword,
+showing his great silvery side. Then he began to thresh. I never felt a
+quarter of such power at the end of a line. He went swift as a flash.
+Then he leaped sheer ahead, like a porpoise, only infinitely more
+active. We all yelled. He was of great size, over three hundred, broad,
+heavy, long, and the most violent and savage fish I ever had a look at.
+Then he rose half&mdash;two-thirds out of the water, shaking his massive
+head, jaws open, sword sweeping, and seemed to move across the water in
+a growing, boiling maelstrom of foam. This was the famous &#8220;walking on
+his tail&#8221; I had heard so much about. It was an incredible feat. He must
+have covered fifty yards. Then he plunged down, and turned swiftly in a
+curve toward the boat. He looked threatening to me. I could not manage
+the slack line. One more leap <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span>and he threw the hook. I found the point
+of the hook bent. It had never been embedded in his jaw. And also I
+found that his violent exercise had lasted just one minute. I wondered
+how long I would have lasted had the hook been deep-set.</p>
+
+<p>Next day I had a swordfish take my bait, swim away on the surface,
+showing the flying-fish plainly between his narrow beak, and after
+fooling with it for a while he ejected it.</p>
+
+<p>Next day I got a great splashing strike from another, without even a
+sight of the fish.</p>
+
+<p>Next day I hooked one that made nineteen beautiful leaps straightaway
+before he got rid of the hook.</p>
+
+<p>And about that time I was come to a sad pass. In fact, I could not
+sleep, eat, or rest. I was crazy on swordfish.</p>
+
+<p>Day after day, from early morning till late afternoon, aboard on the
+sea, trolling, watching, waiting, eternally on the alert, I had kept at
+the game. My emotional temperament made this game a particularly trying
+one. And every possible unlucky, unforeseen, and sickening thing that
+could happen to a fisherman had happened. I grew morbid, hopeless. I
+could no longer see the beauty of that wild and lonely island, nor the
+wonder of that smooth, blue Pacific, nor the myriad of strange
+sea-creatures. It was a bad state of mind which I could not wholly
+conquer. Only by going at it so hard, and sticking so long, without any
+rests, could I gain the experience I wanted. A man to be a great
+fisherman should have what makes Stewart White a great hunter&mdash;no
+emotions. If a lion charged me I would imagine <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span>a million things. Once
+when a Mexican <i>tigre</i>, a jaguar, charged me I&mdash;But that is not this
+story. Boschen has the temperament for a great fisherman. He is
+phlegmatic. All day&mdash;and day after day&mdash;he sits there, on trigger, so to
+speak, waiting for the strike that will come. He is so constituted that
+it does not matter to him how soon or how late the strike comes. To me
+the wait, the suspense, grew to be maddening. Yet I stuck it out, and in
+this I claim a victory, of which I am prouder than I am of the record
+that gave me more swordfish to my credit than any other fisherman has
+taken.</p>
+
+<p>On the next day, August 11th, about three o&#8217;clock, I saw a long, moving
+shadow back of my bait. I jumped up. There was the purple, drifting
+shape of a swordfish. I felt a slight vibration when he hit the bait
+with his sword. Then he took the bait. I hooked this swordfish. He
+leaped eight times before he started out to sea. He took us three miles.
+In an hour and five minutes I brought him to gaff&mdash;a small fish. Captain
+Dan would take no chances of losing him. He risked much when he grasped
+the waving sword with his right hand, and with the gaff in his left he
+hauled the swordfish aboard and let him slide down into the cockpit. For
+Captain Dan it was no less an overcoming of obstinate difficulty than
+for me. He was as elated as I, but I forgot the past long, long siege,
+while he remembered it.</p>
+
+<p>That swordfish certainly looked a tiger of the sea. He had purple fins,
+long, graceful, sharp; purple stripes on a background of dark, mottled
+bronze green; mother-of-pearl tint fading into the green; and great opal
+eyes with dark spots in the center. The colors came out most vividly and
+exquisitely, the purple blazing, just as the swordfish trembled his last
+and died. He was nine feet two inches long and weighed one hundred and
+eighteen pounds.</p>
+
+<p><a name="illo18" id="illo18"></a></p><div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/illus067.jpg" class="ispace jpg" width="500" height="287" alt="A CLEAN GREYHOUND LEAP" title="" />
+<span class="caption">A CLEAN GREYHOUND LEAP</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><a name="illo19" id="illo19"></a></p><div class="figcenter" style="width: 290px;">
+<img src="images/illus068.jpg" class="ispace jpg" width="290" height="500" alt="316-POUND SWORDFISH" title="" />
+<span class="caption">316-POUND SWORDFISH</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p>I caught one the next day, one hundred and forty-four pounds. Fought
+another the next day and he threw the hook after a half-hour. Caught two
+the following day&mdash;one hundred and twenty, and one hundred and sixty-six
+pounds. And then, Captain Dan foreshadowing my remarkable finish,
+exclaimed:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m lookin&#8217; for busted records now!&#8221;</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p>One day about noon the sea was calm except up toward the west end, where
+a wind was whipping the water white. Clemente Island towered with its
+steep slopes of wild oats and its blue ca&ntilde;ons full of haze.</p>
+
+<p>Captain Dan said he had seen a big swordfish jump off to the west, and
+we put on full speed. He must have been a mile out and just where the
+breeze ruffled the water. As good luck would have it, we came upon the
+fish on the surface. I consider this a fine piece of judgment for
+Captain Dan, to locate him at that distance. He was a monster and fresh
+run from the outside sea. That is to say, his great fin and tail were
+violet, almost pink in color. They had not had time to get sunburnt, as
+those of fish earlier arrived at Clemente.</p>
+
+<p>We made a wide circle round him, to draw the flying-fish bait near him.
+But before we could get it near he went down. The same old story, I
+thought, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span>with despair&mdash;these floating fish will not bite. We circled
+over the place where he had gone down, and I watched my bait rising and
+falling in the low swells.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly Captain Dan yelled and I saw a great blaze of purple and silver
+green flashing after my bait. It was the swordfish, and he took the bait
+on the run. That was a moment for a fisherman! I found it almost
+impossible to let him have enough line. All that I remember about the
+hooking of him was a tremendous shock. His first dash was irresistibly
+powerful, and I had a sensation of the absurdity of trying to stop a
+fish like that. Then the line began to rise on the surface and to
+lengthen in my sight, and I tried to control my rapture and fear enough
+to be able to see him clearly when he leaped. The water split, and up he
+shot&mdash;a huge, glittering, savage, beautiful creature, all purple and
+opal in the sunlight. He did not get all the way out of the water, but
+when he dropped back he made the water roar.</p>
+
+<p>Then, tearing off line, he was out of the water in similar leaps&mdash;seven
+times more. Captain Dan had his work cut out for him as well as I had
+mine. It was utterly impossible to keep a tight line, and when I felt
+the slacking of weight I grew numb and sick&mdash;thinking he was gone. But
+he suddenly straightened the line with a jerk that lifted me, and he
+started inshore. He had about four hundred feet of line out, and more
+slipping out as if the drag was not there. Captain Dan headed the boat
+after him at full speed. Then followed a most thrilling race. It was
+over very quickly, but it seemed an age. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span>When he stopped and went down
+he had pulled thirteen hundred feet off my reel while we were chasing
+him at full speed. While he sounded I got back half of this line. I wish
+I could give some impression of the extraordinary strength and speed of
+this royal purple fish of the sea. He came up again, in two more leaps,
+one of which showed me his breadth of back, and then again was performed
+for me the feature of which I had heard so much and which has made the
+swordfish the most famous of all fish&mdash;he rose two-thirds out of the
+water, I suppose by reason of the enormous power of his tail, though it
+seemed like magic, and then he began to walk across the sea in a great
+circle of white foam, wagging his massive head, sword flying, jaws wide,
+dorsal fin savagely erect, like a lion&#8217;s mane. He was magnificent. I
+have never seen fury so expressed or such an unquenchable spirit. Then
+he dropped back with a sudden splash, and went down and down and down.</p>
+
+<p>All swordfish fight differently, and this one adopted tuna tactics. He
+sounded and began to plug away and bang the leader with his tail. He
+would take off three hundred feet of line, and then, as he slowed up, I,
+by the labor of Hercules, pulled and pumped and wound most of it back on
+the reel. This kept up for an hour&mdash;surely the hardest hour&#8217;s work of my
+life.</p>
+
+<p>But a swordfish is changeable. That is the beauty of his gameness. He
+left off sounding and came up to fight on the surface. In the next hour
+he pulled us from the Fence to Long Point, a distance of four miles.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span>Once off the Point, where the tide rip is strong, he began to circle in
+great, wide circles. Strangely, he did not put out to sea. And here,
+during the next hour, I had the finest of experiences I think that ever
+befell a fisherman. I was hooked to a monster fighting swordfish; I was
+wet with sweat, and salt water that had dripped from my reel, and I was
+aching in every muscle. The sun was setting in banks of gold and silver
+fog over the west end, and the sea was opalescent&mdash;vast, shimmering,
+heaving, beautiful. And at this sunset moment, or hour&mdash;for time seemed
+nothing&mdash;a school of giant tuna began leaping around us, smashing the
+water, making the flying-fish rise in clouds, like drifting bees. I saw
+a whole flock of flying-fish rise into the air with that sunset glow and
+color in the background, and the exquisite beauty of life and movement
+was indescribable. Next a bald eagle came soaring down, and, swooping
+along the surface, he lowered his talons to pick up a crippled
+flying-fish. And when the hoary-headed bird rose, a golden eagle, larger
+and more powerful, began to contest with him for the prey.</p>
+
+<p>Then the sky darkened and the moon whitened&mdash;and my fight went on. I had
+taken the precaution to work for two months at rowing to harden my hands
+for just such a fight as this. Yet my hands suffered greatly. A man who
+is not in the best of physical trim, with his hands hard, cannot hope to
+land a big swordfish.</p>
+
+<p>I was all afternoon at this final test, and all in, too, but at last I
+brought him near enough for Captain Dan to grasp the leader.... Then
+there was <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span>something doing around that boat for a spell! I was positive
+a German torpedo had hit us. But the explosion was only the swordfish&#8217;s
+tail and Dan&#8217;s voice yelling for another gaff. When Captain Dan got the
+second gaff in him there was another submarine attack, but the boat did
+not sink.</p>
+
+<p>Next came the job of lassoing the monster&#8217;s tail. Here I shone, for I
+had lassoed mountain-lions with Buffalo Jones, and I was efficient and
+quick. Captain Dan and I were unable to haul the fish on board, and we
+had to get out the block and tackle and lift the tail on deck, secure
+that, and then pull up the head from the other side. After that I needed
+some kind of tackle to hold me up.</p>
+
+<p>We were miles from camp, and I was wet and cold and exhausted, and the
+pain in my blistered hands was excruciating. But not soon shall I forget
+that ride down the shore with the sea so rippling and moon-blanched, and
+the boom of the surf on the rocks, and the peaks of the island standing
+bold and dark against the white stars.</p>
+
+<p>This swordfish weighed three hundred and sixteen pounds on faulty scales
+at Clemente. He very likely weighed much more. He was the largest
+Captain Dan ever saw, up to that time. Al Shade guessed his weight at
+three hundred and sixty. The market fishermen, who put in at the little
+harbor the next day, judged him way over three hundred, and these men
+are accurate. The fish hung head down for a day and night, lost all the
+water and blood and feed in him, and another day later, when landed at
+Avalon, he had lost considerable. There were fishermen who discredited
+Captain <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span>Dan and me, who in our enthusiasm claimed a record.</p>
+
+<p>But&mdash;that sort of thing is one of the aspects of the sport. I was sorry,
+for Captain Dan&#8217;s sake. The rivalries between boatmen are keen and
+important, and they are fostered by unsportsman-like fishermen. And
+fishermen live among past associations; they grow to believe their
+performances unbeatable and they hate to see a new king crowned. This
+may be human, since we are creatures who want always to excel, but it is
+irritating to the young fishermen. As for myself, what did I care how
+much the swordfish weighed? He was huge, magnificent, beautiful, and
+game to the end of that four-hour battle. Who or what could change
+that&mdash;or the memory of those schools of flying-fish in the sunset
+glow&mdash;or the giant tuna, smashing the water all about me&mdash;or the eagles
+fighting over my head&mdash;or the beauty of wild and lonely Clemente under
+its silver cloud-banks?</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p>I went on catching one or two swordfish every day, and Captain Dan
+averred that the day would come when we would swamp the boat. These days
+were fruitful of the knowledge of swordfish that I had longed to earn.</p>
+
+<p>They are indeed &#8220;queer birds.&#8221; I learned to recognize the sharp
+vibration of my line when a swordfish rapped the bait with his sword. No
+doubt he thought he thus killed his prey. Then the strike would come
+invariably soon after. No two swordfish acted or fought alike. I hooked
+one that refused to stand the strain of the line. He <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span>followed the boat,
+and was easily gaffed. I hooked another, a heavy fish, that did not show
+for two hours. We were sure we had a broadbill, and were correspondingly
+worried. The broadbill swordfish is a different proposition. He is
+larger, fiercer, and tireless. He will charge the boat, and nothing but
+the churning propeller will keep him from ramming the boat. There were
+eight broadbill swordfish hooked at Avalon during the summer, and not
+one brought to gaff. This is an old story. Only two have been caught to
+date. They are so powerful, so resistless, so desperate, and so cunning
+that it seems impossible to catch them. They will cut bait after bait
+off your hook as clean as if it had been done with a knife. For that
+matter, their broad bill is a straight, long, powerful two-edged sword.
+And the fish perfectly understands its use.</p>
+
+<p>This matter of swordfish charging the boat is apt to be discredited by
+fishermen. But it certainly is not doubted by the few who know. I have
+seen two swordfish threaten my boat, and one charge it. Walker, an
+Avalon boatman, tells of a prodigious battle his angler had with a
+broadbill giant calculated to weigh five hundred pounds. This fight
+lasted eight hours. Many times the swordfish charged the boat and lost
+his nerve. If that propeller had stopped he would have gone through the
+boat as if it had been paper. After this fish freed himself he was so
+mad that he charged the boat repeatedly. Boschen fought a big broadbill
+for eleven hours. And during this fight the swordfish sounded to the
+bottom forty-eight times, and had to be pumped up; he led the boat
+almost around <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span>Catalina Island&mdash;twenty-nine miles; and he had gotten out
+into the channel, headed for Clemente, when he broke away. This fish did
+everything. I consider this battle the greatest on record. Only a man of
+enormous strength and endurance could have lasted so long&mdash;not to speak
+of the skill and wits necessary on the part of both fisherman and
+boatman. All fishermen fish for the big fish, though it is sport to
+catch any game fish, irrespective of size. But let any fisherman who has
+nerve see and feel a big swordfish on his line, and from that moment he
+is obsessed. Why, a tarpon is child&#8217;s play compared to holding a fast
+swordfish.</p>
+
+<p>It is my great ambition now to catch a broadbill. That would completely
+round out my fishing experience. And I shall try. But I doubt that I
+will be so fortunate. It takes a long time. Boschen was years catching
+his fish. Moreover, though it is hard to get a broadbill to bite&mdash;and
+harder to hook him&mdash;it is infinitely harder to do anything with him
+after you do get fast to him.</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p>A word about Avalon boatmen. They are a fine body of men. I have heard
+them maligned. Certainly they have petty rivalries and jealousies, but
+this is not their fault. They fish all the seasons around and have been
+there for years. Boatmen at Long Key and other Florida resorts&mdash;at
+Tampico, Aransas Pass&mdash;are not in the same class with the Avalon men.
+They want to please and to excel, and to number you among their patrons
+for the future. And the boats&mdash;nowhere are there such splendid boats.
+Captain Danielson&#8217;s boat had utterly <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span>spoiled me for fishing out of
+any other. He had it built, and the ideas of its construction were a
+product of fifteen years&#8217; study. It is thirty-eight feet long, and wide,
+with roomy, shaded cockpit and cabin, and comfortable revolving chairs
+to fish from. These chairs have moving sockets into which you can jam
+the butt of your rod; and the backs can be removed in a flash. Then you
+can haul at a fish! The boat lies deep, with heavy ballast in the stern.
+It has a keel all the way, and an enormous rudder. Both are constructed
+so your line can slip under the boat without fouling. It is equipped
+with sail and a powerful engine. Danielson can turn this boat, going at
+full speed, in its own length! Consider the merit of this when a tuna
+strikes, or a swordfish starts for the open sea. How many tarpon,
+barracuda, amberjack, and tuna I have lost on the Atlantic seaboard just
+because the boat could not be turned in time!</p>
+
+<p><a name="illo20" id="illo20"></a></p><div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/illus077.jpg" class="jpg ispace" width="500" height="286" alt="THE WILD OATS SLOPE OF CLEMENTE" title="" />
+<span class="caption">THE WILD OATS SLOPE OF CLEMENTE</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><a name="illo21" id="illo21"></a></p><div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/illus078.jpg" class="jpg ispace" width="500" height="294" alt="WHERE THE DEEP-BLUE SWELL BOOMS AGAINST THE LAVA WALL OF
+CLEMENTE ISLAND" title="" />
+<span class="caption">WHERE THE DEEP-BLUE SWELL BOOMS AGAINST THE LAVA WALL OF
+CLEMENTE ISLAND</span>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p>Clemente Island is a mountain of cliffs and caves. It must be of
+volcanic origin, and when the lava rose, hot and boiling, great
+blow-holes formed, and hardened to make the caves. It is an exceedingly
+beautiful island. The fishing side is on the north, or lee, shore, where
+the water is very deep right off the rocks. There are kelp-beds along
+the shore, and the combination of deep water, kelp, and small fish is
+what holds the swordfish there in August and September. I have seen
+acres of flying-fish in the air at once, and great swarms of yellowtail,
+basking on the surface. The color of the water is indigo blue, clear as
+crystal. Always a fascinating thing <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span>for me was to watch the water for
+new and different fish, strange marine creatures, life of some kind. And
+the watching was always rewarded. I have been close to schools of
+devilish blackfish, and I have watched great whales play all around me.
+What a spectacle to see a whale roll and dip his enormous body and bend
+and sound, lifting the huge, glistening flukes of his tail, wide as a
+house! I hate sharks and have caught many, both little and big. When you
+are watching for swordfish it is no fun to have a big shark break for
+your bait, throw the water, get your hook, and lift you from your seat.
+It happened often. But sometimes when I was sure it was a shark it was
+really a swordfish! I used to love to watch the sunfish leap, they are
+so round and glistening and awkward. I could tell one two miles away.
+The blue shark leaps often and he always turns clear over. You cannot
+mistake it. Nor can you mistake a swordfish when he breaks, even though
+you only see the splash. He makes two great sheets of water rise and
+fall. Probably all these fish leap to shake off the remoras. A remora is
+a parasite, a queer little fish, pale in color, because he probably
+lives inside the gills of the fish he preys upon, with the suckers on
+top of his head, arranged in a shield, ribbed like a washboard. This
+little fish is as mysterious as any creature of the sea. He is as swift
+as lightning. He can run over the body of a swordfish so quickly you can
+scarcely follow his movement, and at all times he is fast to the
+swordfish, holding with that flat sucker head. Mr. Holder wrote years
+ago that the remora sticks to a fish just to be carried along, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span>as a
+means of travel, but I do not incline to this belief. We found many
+remoras inside the gills of swordfish, and their presence there was
+evidence of their blood-sucking tendencies. I used to search every
+swordfish for these remoras, and I would keep them in a bucket till we
+got to our anchorage. A school of tame rock-bass there, and tame
+yellowtail, and a few great sea-bass were always waiting for us&mdash;for our
+discarded bait or fish of some kind. But when I threw in a live remora,
+how these hungry fish did dart away! Life in the ocean is strange,
+complex, ferocious, and wonderful.</p>
+
+<p>Al Shade keeps the only camp at Clemente. It is a clean, comfortable,
+delightful place. I have found no place where sleep is so easy, so
+sweet, so deep. Shade lives a lonely life there ten months in the year.
+And it is no wonder that when a fisherman arrives Al almost kills
+himself in his good humor and kindness and usefulness. Men who live
+lonely lives are always glad to see their fellow-men. But he loves
+Clemente Island. Who would not?</p>
+
+<p>When I think of it many pictures come to mind&mdash;evening with the sea
+rolling high and waves curving shoreward in great dark ripples, that
+break and spread white and run up the strand. The sky is pale blue
+above, a green sheen low down, with white stars blinking. The
+promontories run down into the sea, sheer, black, rugged, bold, mighty.
+The surf is loud and deep, detonating, and the pebbles scream as the
+waves draw them down. Strange to realize that surf when on the morrow
+the sea will be like glass&mdash;not a wave nor a ripple under the gray fog!
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span>Wild and beautiful Clemente&mdash;the island of caves and ca&ntilde;ons and
+cliffs&mdash;lilac and cactus and ice-plant and arbor-vit&aelig; and ironwood, with
+the wild goats silhouetted dark against the bold sky-line!</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p>There came that day of all days. I never believed Captain Dan, but now I
+shall never forget. The greatest day that ever befell me! I brought four
+swordfish to gaff and whipped another, the biggest one of the whole
+trip, and saw him tear away from the hook just at the last&mdash;in all, nine
+hours of strenuous hanging on to a rod.</p>
+
+<p>I caught the first one before six o&#8217;clock, as the sun was rising
+red-gold, dazzling, glorious. He leaped in the sun eleven times. He
+weighed one hundred and eighty-seven.</p>
+
+<p>After breakfast we sighted two swordfish on the smooth sea. Both charged
+the bait. I hooked one of these and he leaped twenty-three times. He
+weighed one hundred and sixty-eight.</p>
+
+<p>Then off the east end we saw a big swordfish leap five times. We went
+out toward the open sea. But we never got anywhere near him. I had three
+strikes, one after another, when we were speeding the boat. Then we shut
+down and took to slow trolling. I saw another swordfish sail for my
+bait, and yelled. He shot off with the bait and his dorsal fin stuck out
+of the water. I hooked him. He leaped thirty-eight times. How the camera
+did snap during this fight! He weighed two hundred and ten.</p>
+
+<p>I had a fierce strike on the way in. Too fast! We lost him.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span>&#8220;The sea&#8217;s alive with swordfish!&#8221; cried Captain Dan. &#8220;It&#8217;s the day!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Then I awoke to my opportunity.</p>
+
+<p>Round the east end, close to the great black bluff, where the swells
+pile up so thunderously, I spied the biggest purple fin I had ever seen.
+This fellow came to meet us&mdash;took my bait. I hooked at him, but did not
+hurt or scare him. Finally I pulled the hook out of him. While I was
+reeling in my line suddenly a huge purple shadow hove in sight. It was
+the swordfish&mdash;and certainly one of immense size&mdash;the hugest yet.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He&#8217;s following the boat!&#8221; yelled Captain Dan, in great excitement.</p>
+
+<p>So I saw, but I could not speak or yell. All was intense excitement on
+that boat. I jumped up on the stern, holding the bait Captain Dan had
+put on my hook. Then I paused to look. We all looked, spellbound. That
+was a sight of a lifetime. There he swam, the monster, a few feet under
+the surface, only a rod back of the boat. I had no calm judgment with
+which to measure his dimensions. I only saw that he was tremendous and
+beautiful. His great, yard-wide fins gleamed royal purple. And the
+purple strips crossed his silver sides. He glowed in the water, changed
+color like a chameleon, and drifted, floated after us. I thought of my
+brother Reddy&mdash;how he would have gloried in that sight! I thought of
+Dilg, of Bob Davis, of Professor Kellogg&mdash;other great fishermen, all in
+a flash. Indeed, though I gloated over my fortune, I was not selfish.
+Then I threw in the flying-fish bait. The swordfish loomed up, while my
+heart ceased to beat. There, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span>in plain sight, he took the bait, as a
+trout might have taken a grasshopper. Slowly he sank. The line began to
+slip off the reel. He ceased to be a bright purple mass&mdash;grew dim&mdash;then
+vague&mdash;and disappeared.</p>
+
+<p>I sat down, jammed the rod in the socket, and got ready. For the life of
+me I could not steady my legs.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;ll he weigh?&#8221; I gasped.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;O Lord! he looked twice as big as the big one you got,&#8221; replied Dan.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Stand by with the cameras!&#8221; I said to my companions, and as they lined
+up, two on one side and one on the other, I began to strike at that fish
+with all my might and main. I must have had at least twelve powerful
+strikes before he began to wake up.</p>
+
+<p>Then!</p>
+
+<p>He came up, throwing the water in angry spouts. If he did not threaten
+the boat I was crazy. He began an exhibition that dwarfed any other I
+had seen, and it was so swift that I could scarcely follow him. Yet when
+I saw the line rise, and then the wonderful, long, shiny body, instinct
+with fury, shoot into the air, I yelled the number of the leap, and this
+was the signal for the camera-workers. They held the cameras close,
+without trying to focus, facing the fish, and they snapped when I
+yelled. It was all gloriously exciting. I could never describe that
+exhibition. I only know that he leaped clear forty-six times, and after
+a swift, hard hour for me he got away. Strangely, I was almost happy
+that he had shaken loose, for he had given such remarkable opportunities
+for pictures.</p>
+
+<p>Captain Dan threw the wheel hard over and the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span>boat turned. The
+swordfish, tired out and unconscious of freedom, was floating near the
+surface, a drifting blaze of purple. The boat sheered close to him.
+Captain Dan reached over with a gaff&mdash;and all but gaffed that swordfish
+before he sank too deep. Captain Dan was white with disappointment. That
+more than anything showed me his earnestness, what it all meant to him.</p>
+
+<p>On the way in, for we had been led out a couple of miles, I saw a blue
+streak after my bait, and I was ready before the swordfish got to it. He
+struck viciously and I dared not let him have much line. When I hooked
+him he started out to sea at a clip that smoked the line off my reel.
+Captain Dan got the boat turned before the swordfish began to leap. Then
+it was almost a straightaway race. This fellow was a greyhound leaper.
+He did not churn the water, nor dash to and fro on the surface, but kept
+steadily leaping ahead. He cleared the water thirty-nine times before he
+gave up leaping. Then he sounded. The line went slack. I thought he was
+gone. Suddenly he showed again, in a white splash, and he was not half
+as far away as when he went down. Then I felt the pull on the line. It
+was heavy, for he had left a great bag in it. I endeavored to recover
+line, but it came in very slowly. The swordfish then threshed on the
+surface so that we could hear the water crack. But he did not leap
+again. He had gone mad with rage. He seemed to have no sense of
+direction. He went down again, only to rush up, still closer to us. Then
+it was plain he saw the nature of his foe. Splitting water like a swift
+motor-boat, he charged us.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span>I had a cold sensation, but was too excited to be afraid. Almost I
+forgot to reel in.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He&#8217;s after us!&#8221; I said, grimly.</p>
+
+<p>Captain Dan started the boat ahead fast. The swordfish got out of line
+with the boat. But he was close, and he made me think of the charging
+rhinoceros Dugmore photographed. And then I yelled for the cameras to be
+snapped. They all clicked&mdash;and then, when the swordfish shot close
+behind us, presenting the most magnificent picture, no one was ready!</p>
+
+<p>As he passed I thought I saw the line round his body. Then he sounded
+and began to plug. He towed us six miles out to sea. I could not stop
+him. I had begun to weaken. My hands were sights. My back hurt. But I
+stayed with him. He felt like a log and I could not recover line.
+Captain Dan said it was because I was almost all in, but I did not think
+that. Presently this swordfish turned inshore and towed us back the six
+miles. By this time it was late and I <i>was</i> all in. But the swordfish
+did not seem nearer the boat. I got mad and found some reserve strength.
+I simply had to bring him to gaff. I pulled and pumped and wound until I
+was blind and could scarcely feel. My old blisters opened and bled. My
+left arm was dead. I seemed to have no more strength than a kitten. I
+could not lead the fish nor turn him. I had to drag and drag, inch by
+inch. It was agonizing. But finally I was encouraged by sight of him, a
+long, fine, game fellow. A hundred times I got the end of the double
+line near the leader in sight, only to lose it.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span>Seven o&#8217;clock passed. I had fought this swordfish nearly three hours. I
+could not last much longer. I rested a little, holding hard, and then
+began a last and desperate effort to bring him to gaff. I was absolutely
+dripping with sweat, and red flashes passed before my eyes, and queer
+dots. The last supreme pull&mdash;all I had left&mdash;brought the end of the
+leader to Captain Dan&#8217;s outstretched hand.</p>
+
+<p>The swordfish came in broadside. In the clear water we saw him plainly,
+beautifully striped tiger that he was! And we all saw that he had not
+been hooked. He had been lassoed. In some way the leader had looped
+around him with the hook catching under the wire. No wonder it had
+nearly killed me to bring him to the boat, and surely I never would have
+succeeded had it not been for the record Captain Dan coveted. That was
+the strangest feature in all my wonderful Clemente experience&mdash;to see
+that superb swordfish looped in a noose of my long leader. He was
+without a scratch. It may serve to give some faint idea of the
+bewildering possibilities in the pursuit of this royal purple game of
+the Pacific.</p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="IV" id="IV"></a>IV</h2>
+
+<h3>TWO FIGHTS WITH SWORDFISH</h3>
+
+<p>My first day at Avalon, 1916, was one likely to be memorable among my
+fishing experiences.</p>
+
+<p>The weather (August 2d) was delightful&mdash;smooth, rippling sea, no wind,
+clear sky and warm. The Sierra Nevada Mountains shone dark above the
+horizon.</p>
+
+<p>A little before noon we passed my friend Lone Angler, who hailed us and
+said there was a big broadbill swordfish off in the steamer-course. We
+steered off in that direction.</p>
+
+<p>There were sunfish and sharks showing all around. Once I saw a whale.
+The sea was glassy, with a long, heaving swell. Birds were plentiful in
+scattered groups.</p>
+
+<p>We ran across a shark of small size and tried to get him to take a bait.
+He refused. A little later Captain Dan espied a fin, and upon running up
+we discovered the huge, brown, leathery tail and dorsal of a broadbill
+swordfish.</p>
+
+<p>Captain Dan advised a long line out so that we could circle the fish
+from a distance and not scare him. I do not remember any unusual
+excitement. I was curious and interested. Remembering all I <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span>had heard
+about these fish, I did not anticipate getting a strike from him.</p>
+
+<p>We circled him and drew the flying-fish bait so that he would swim near
+it. As it was, I had to reel in some. Presently we had the bait some
+twenty yards ahead of him. Then Captain Dan slowed down. The broadbill
+wiggled his tail and slid out of sight. Dan said he was going for my
+bait. But I did not believe so. Several moments passed. I had given up
+any little hope I might have had when I received a quick, strong,
+vibrating strike&mdash;different from any I had ever experienced. I suppose
+the strangeness was due to the shock he gave my line when he struck the
+bait with his sword. The line paid out unsteadily and slowly. I looked
+at Dan and he looked at me. Neither of us was excited nor particularly
+elated. I guess I did not realize what was actually going on.</p>
+
+<p>I let him have about one hundred and fifty feet of line.</p>
+
+<p>When I sat down to jam the rod-butt in the socket I had awakened to
+possibilities. Throwing on the drag and winding in until my line was
+taut, I struck hard&mdash;four times. He made impossible any more attempts at
+this by starting off on a heavy, irresistible rush. But he was not fast,
+or so it seemed to me. He did not get more than four hundred feet of
+line before we ran up on him. Presently he came to the surface to thresh
+around. He did not appear scared or angry. Probably he was annoyed at
+the pricking of the hook. But he kept moving, sometimes on the surface
+and sometimes beneath. I did not fight him hard, preferring to let him
+pull <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span>out the line, and then when he rested I worked on him to recover
+it. My idea was to keep a perpetual strain upon him.</p>
+
+<p>I do not think I had even a hope of bringing this fish to the boat.</p>
+
+<p>It was twelve o&#8217;clock exactly when I hooked him, and a quarter of an
+hour sped by. My first big thrill came when he leaped. This was a
+surprise. He was fooling round, and then, all of a sudden, he broke
+water clear. It was an awkward, ponderous action, and looked as if he
+had come up backward, like a bucking bronco. His size and his long,
+sinister sword amazed me and frightened me. It gave me a cold sensation
+to realize I was hooked to a huge, dangerous fish. But that in itself
+was a new kind of thrill. No boatman fears a Marlin as he does the true
+broadbill swordfish.</p>
+
+<p>My second thrill came when the fish lunged on the surface in a red foam.
+If I had hooked him so he bled freely there was a chance to land him!
+This approach to encouragement, however, was short-lived. He went down,
+and if I had been hooked to a submarine I could scarcely have felt more
+helpless. He sounded about five hundred feet and then sulked. I had the
+pleasant task of pumping him up. This brought the sweat out upon me and
+loosened me up. I began to fight him harder. And it seemed that as I
+increased the strain he grew stronger and a little more active. Still
+there was not any difference in his tactics. I began to get a conception
+of the vitality and endurance of a broadbill in contrast with the speed
+and savageness of his brother fish, the Marlin, or roundbill.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span></p><p>At two o&#8217;clock matters were about the same. I was not tired, but
+certainly the fish was not tired, either. He came to the surface just
+about as much as he sounded. I had no difficulty at all in getting back
+the line he took, at least all save a hundred feet or so. When I tried
+to lead him or lift him&mdash;then I got his point of view. He would not
+budge an inch. There seemed nothing to do but let him work on the drag,
+and when he had pulled out a few hundred feet of line we ran up on him
+and I reeled in the line. Now and then I put all the strain I could on
+the rod and worked him that way.</p>
+
+<p>At three o&#8217;clock I began to get tired. My hands hurt. And I concluded I
+had been rather unlucky to start on a broadbill at the very beginning.</p>
+
+<p>From that time he showed less frequently, and, if anything, he grew
+slower and heavier. I felt no more rushes. And along about this time I
+found I could lead him somewhat. This made me begin to work hard. Yet,
+notwithstanding, I had no hope of capturing the fish. It was only
+experience.</p>
+
+<p>Captain Dan kept saying: &#8220;Well, you wanted to hook up with a broadbill!
+Now how do you like it?&#8221; He had no idea I would ever land him. Several
+times I asked him to give an opinion as to the size of the swordfish,
+but he would not venture that until he had gotten a good close view of
+him.</p>
+
+<p>At four o&#8217;clock I made the alarming discovery that the great B-Ocean
+reel was freezing, just as my other one had frozen on my first swordfish
+the year previous. Captain Dan used language. He threw up his hands. He
+gave up. But I did not.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Dan, see here,&#8221; I said. &#8220;We&#8217;ll run up on him, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span>throw off a lot of slack
+line, then cut it and tie it to another reel!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We might do that. But it&#8217;ll disqualify the fish,&#8221; he replied.</p>
+
+<p>Captain Dan, like all the boatmen at Avalon, has fixed ideas about the
+Tuna Club and its records and requirements. It is all right, I suppose,
+for a club to have rules, and not count or credit an angler who breaks a
+rod or is driven to the expedient I had proposed. But I do not fish for
+clubs or records. I fish for the fun, the excitement, the thrill of the
+game, and I would rather let my fish go than not. So I said:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;ll certainly lose the fish if we don&#8217;t change reels. I am using the
+regulation tackle, and to my mind the more tackle we use, provided we
+land the fish, the more credit is due us. It is not an easy matter to
+change reels or lines or rods with a big fish working all the time.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Captain Dan acquiesced, but told me to try fighting him a while with the
+light drag and the thumb-brake. So far only the heavy drag had frozen. I
+tried Dan&#8217;s idea, to my exceeding discomfort; and the result was that
+the swordfish drew far away from us. Presently the reel froze solid. The
+handle would not turn. But with the drag off the spool ran free.</p>
+
+<p>Then we ran away from the fish, circling and letting out slack line.
+When we came to the end of the line we turned back a little, and with a
+big slack we took the risk of cutting the line and tying it on the other
+reel. We had just got this done when the line straightened tight! I
+wound in about twelve <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span>hundred feet of line and was tired and wet when I
+had gotten in all I could pull. This brought us to within a couple of
+hundred feet of our quarry. Also it brought us to five o&#8217;clock. Five
+hours!... I began to have queer sensations&mdash;aches, pains, tremblings,
+saggings. Likewise misgivings!</p>
+
+<p>About this period I determined to see how close to the boat I could pull
+him. I worked. The word &#8220;worked&#8221; is not readily understood until a man
+has tried to pull a big broadbill close to the boat. I pulled until I
+saw stars and my bones cracked. Then there was another crack. The rod
+broke at the reel seat! And the reel seat was bent. Fortunately the line
+could still pay out. And I held the tip while Dan pried and hammered the
+reel off the broken butt on to another one. Then he put the tip in that
+butt, and once more I had to reel in what seemed miles and miles of
+line.</p>
+
+<p>Five thirty! It seemed around the end of the world for me. We had
+drifted into a tide-rip about five miles east of Avalon, and in this
+rough water I had a terrible time trying to hold my fish. When I
+discovered that I could hold him&mdash;and therefore that he was playing
+out&mdash;then there burst upon me the dazzling hope of actually bringing him
+to gaff. It is something to fight a fish for more than five hours
+without one single hope of his capture. I had done that. And now,
+suddenly, to be fired with hope gave me new strength and spirit to work.
+The pain in my hands was excruciating. I was burning all over; wet and
+slippery, and aching in every muscle. These next few minutes seemed
+longer than all the hours. I found that to put the old strain on <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span>the
+rod made me blind with pain. There was no fun, no excitement, no thrill
+now. As I labored I could not help marveling at the strange, imbecile
+pursuits of mankind. Here I was in an agony, absolutely useless. Why did
+I keep it up? I could not give up, and I concluded I was crazy.</p>
+
+<p>I conceived the most unreasonable hatred for that poor swordfish that
+had done nothing to me and that certainly would have been justified in
+ramming the boat.</p>
+
+<p>To my despair the fish sounded deep, going down and down. Captain Dan
+watched the line. Finally it ceased to pay out.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Pump him up!&#8221; said Dan.</p>
+
+<p>This was funny. It was about as funny as death.</p>
+
+<p>I rested awhile and meditated upon the weakness of the flesh. The thing
+most desirable and beautiful in all the universe was rest. It was so
+sweet to think of that I was hard put to it to keep from tossing the rod
+overboard. There was something so desperately trying and painful in this
+fight with a broadbill. At last I drew a deep, long breath, and, with a
+pang in my breast and little stings all over me, I began to lift on him.
+He was at the bottom of the ocean. He was just as unattainable as the
+bottom of the ocean. But there are ethics of a sportsman!</p>
+
+<p>Inch by inch and foot by foot I pumped up this live and dragging weight.
+I sweat, I panted, I whistled, I bled&mdash;and my arms were dead, and my
+hands raw and my heart seemed about to burst.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly Captain Dan electrified me.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There&#8217;s the end of the double line!&#8221; he yelled.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span>Unbelievable as it was, there the knot in the end of the short six feet
+of double line showed at the surface. I pumped and I reeled inch by
+inch.</p>
+
+<p>A long dark object showed indistinctly, wavered as the swells rose, then
+showed again. As I strained at the rod so I strained my eyes.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I see the leader!&#8221; yelled Dan, in great excitement.</p>
+
+<p>I saw it, too, and I spent the last ounce of strength left in me. Up and
+up came the long, dark, vague object.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You&#8217;ve got him licked!&#8221; exclaimed Dan. &#8220;Not a wag left in him!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>It did seem so. And that bewildering instant saw the birth of assurance
+in me. I was going to get him! That was a grand instant for a fisherman.
+I could have lifted anything then.</p>
+
+<p>The swordfish became clear to my gaze. He was a devilish-looking
+monster, two feet thick across the back, twelve feet long over all, and
+he would have weighed at the least over four hundred pounds. And I had
+beaten him! That was there to be seen. He had none of the beauty and
+color of the roundbill swordfish. He was dark, almost black, with huge
+dorsal and tail, and a wicked broad sword fully four feet long. What
+terrified me was his enormous size and the deadly look of him. I
+expected to see him rush at the boat.</p>
+
+<p>Watching him thus, I reveled in my wonderful luck. Up to this date there
+had been only three of these rare fish caught in twenty-five years of
+Avalon fishing. And this one was far larger than those that had been
+taken.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span>&#8220;Lift him! Closer!&#8221; called Captain Dan. &#8220;In two minutes I&#8217;ll have a gaff
+in him!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>I made a last effort. Dan reached for the leader.</p>
+
+<p>Then the hook tore out.</p>
+
+<p>My swordfish, without a movement of tail or fin, slowly sank&mdash;to vanish
+in the blue water.</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p>After resting my blistered hands for three days, which time was scarcely
+long enough to heal them, I could not resist the call of the sea.</p>
+
+<p>We went off Seal Rocks and trolled about five miles out. We met a
+sand-dabber who said he had seen a big broadbill back a ways. So we
+turned round. After a while I saw a big, vicious splash half a mile
+east, and we made for it. Then I soon espied the fish.</p>
+
+<p>We worked around him awhile, but he would not take a barracuda or a
+flying-fish.</p>
+
+<p>It was hard to keep track of him, on account of rough water. Soon he
+went down.</p>
+
+<p>Then a little later I saw what Dan called a Marlin. He had big flippers,
+wide apart. I took him for a broadbill.</p>
+
+<p>We circled him, and before he saw a bait he leaped twice, coming about
+half out, with belly toward us. He looked huge, but just how big it was
+impossible to say.</p>
+
+<p>After a while he came up, and we circled him. As the bait drifted round
+before him&mdash;twenty yards or more off&mdash;he gave that little wiggle of the
+tail sickle, and went under. I waited. I had given up hope when I felt
+him hit the bait. Then he ran off, pretty fast. I let him have a long
+line. Then <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span>I sat down and struck him. He surged off, and we all got
+ready to watch him leap. But he did not show.</p>
+
+<p>He swam off, sounded, came up, rolled around, went down again. But we
+did not get a look at him. He fought like any other heavy swordfish.</p>
+
+<p>In one and one-half hours I pulled him close to the boat, and we all saw
+him. But I did not get a good look at him as he wove to and fro behind
+the boat.</p>
+
+<p>Then he sounded.</p>
+
+<p>I began to work on him, and worked harder. He seemed to get stronger all
+the time.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He feels like a broadbill, I tell you,&#8221; I said to Captain Dan.</p>
+
+<p>Dan shook his head, yet all the same he looked dubious.</p>
+
+<p>Then began a slow, persistent, hard battle between me and the fish, the
+severity of which I did not realize at the time. In hours like those
+time has wings. My hands grew hot. They itched, and I wanted to remove
+the wet gloves. But I did not, and sought to keep my mind off what had
+been half-healed blisters. Neither the fish nor I made any new moves, it
+all being plug on his part and give and take on mine. Slowly and
+doggedly he worked out toward the sea, and while the hours passed, just
+as persistently he circled back.</p>
+
+<p>Captain Dan came to stand beside me, earnestly watching the rod bend and
+the line stretch. He shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s a big Marlin and you&#8217;ve got him foul-hooked,&#8221; he asserted. This
+statement was made at <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span>the end of three hours and more. I did not agree.
+Dan and I often had arguments. He always tackled me when I was in some
+such situation as this&mdash;for then, of course, he had the best of it. My
+brother Rome was in the boat that day, an intensely interested observer.
+He had not as yet hooked a swordfish.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s a German submarine!&#8221; he declared.</p>
+
+<p>My brother&#8217;s wife and the other ladies with us on board were inclined to
+favor my side; at least they were sorry for the fish and said he must be
+very big.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Dan, I could tell a foul-hooked fish,&#8221; I asserted, positively. &#8220;This
+fellow is too alive&mdash;too limber. He doesn&#8217;t sag like a dead weight.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, if he&#8217;s not foul-hooked, then you&#8217;re all in,&#8221; replied the
+captain.</p>
+
+<p>Cheerful acquiescence is a desirable trait in any one, especially an
+angler who aspires to things, but that was left out in the ordering of
+my complex disposition. However, to get angry makes a man fight harder,
+and so it was with me.</p>
+
+<p>At the end of five hours Dan suggested putting the harness on me. This
+contrivance, by the way, is a thing of straps and buckles, and its use
+is to fit over an angler&#8217;s shoulders and to snap on the rod. It helps
+him lift the fish, puts his shoulders more into play, rests his arms.
+But I had never worn one. I was afraid of it.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Suppose he pulls me overboard, with that on!&#8221; I exclaimed. &#8220;He&#8217;ll drown
+me!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;ll hold on to you,&#8221; replied Dan, cheerily, as he strapped it around
+me.</p>
+
+<p>Later it turned out that I had exactly the right <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span>view concerning this
+harness, for Dustin Farnum was nearly pulled overboard and&mdash;But I have
+not space for that story here. My brother Rome wants to write that
+story, anyhow, because it is so funny, he says.</p>
+
+<p>On the other hand, the fact soon manifested itself to me that I could
+lift a great deal more with said harness to help. The big fish began to
+come nearer and also he began to get mad. Here I forgot the pain in my
+hands. I grew enthusiastic. And foolishly I bragged. Then I lifted so
+hard that I cracked the great Conroy rod.</p>
+
+<p>Dan threw up his hands. He quit, same as he quit the first day out, when
+I hooked the broadbill and the reel froze.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Disqualified fish, even if you ketch him&mdash;which you won&#8217;t,&#8221; he said,
+dejectedly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Crack goes thirty-five dollars!&#8221; exclaimed my brother. &#8220;Sure is funny,
+brother, how you can decimate good money into the general atmosphere!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>If there really is anything fine in the fighting of a big fish, which
+theory I have begun to doubt, certainly Captain Dan and Brother R. C.
+did not know it.</p>
+
+<p>Remarks were forthcoming from me, I am ashamed to state, that should not
+have been. Then I got Dan to tie splints on the rod, after which I
+fought my quarry some more. The splints broke. Dan had to bind the
+cracked rod with heavy pieces of wood and they added considerable weight
+to what had before felt like a ton.</p>
+
+<p>The fish had been hooked at eleven o&#8217;clock and it was now five. We had
+drifted or been pulled into <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span>the main channel, where strong currents and
+a choppy sea made the matter a pretty serious and uncomfortable one.
+Here I expended all I had left in a short and furious struggle to bring
+the fish up, if not to gaff, at least so we could see what he looked
+like. How strange and unfathomable a feeling this mystery of him gave
+rise to! If I could only see him once, then he could get away and
+welcome. Captain Dan, in anticipation of a need of much elbow room in
+that cockpit, ordered my brother and the ladies to go into the cabin or
+up on top. And they all scrambled up and lay flat on the deck-roof, with
+their heads over, watching me. They had to hold on some, too. In fact,
+they were having the time of their lives.</p>
+
+<p>My supreme effort brought the fish within the hundredth foot length of
+line&mdash;then my hands and my back refused any more.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Dan, here&#8217;s the great chance you&#8217;ve always hankered for!&#8221; I said. &#8220;Now
+let&#8217;s see you pull him right in!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>And I passed him the rod and got up. Dan took it with the pleased
+expression of a child suddenly and wonderfully come into possession of a
+long-unattainable toy. Captain Dan was going to pull that fish right up
+to the boat. He was! Now Dan is big&mdash;he weighs two hundred; he has arms
+and hands like the limbs of a Vulcan. Perhaps Dan had every reason to
+believe he would pull the fish right up to the boat. But somehow I knew
+that he would not.</p>
+
+<p>My fish, perhaps feeling a new and different and mightier hand at the
+rod, showed how he liked it by <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span>a magnificent rush&mdash;the greatest of the
+whole fight&mdash;and he took about five hundred feet of line.</p>
+
+<p>Dan&#8217;s expression changed as if by magic.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Steer the boat! Port! Port!&#8221; he yelled.</p>
+
+<p>Probably I could not run a boat right with perfectly fresh and well
+hands, and with my lacerated and stinging ones I surely made a mess of
+it. This brought language from my boatman&mdash;well, to say the least, quite
+disrespectable. Fortunately, however, I got the boat around and we ran
+down on the fish. Dan, working with long, powerful sweeps of the rod,
+got the line back and the fish close. The game began to look great to
+me. All along I had guessed this fish to be a wonder; and now I knew it.</p>
+
+<p>Hauling him close that way angered him. He made another rush, long and
+savage. The line smoked off that reel. Dan&#8217;s expression was one of
+utmost gratification to me. A boatman at last cornered&mdash;tied up to a
+whale of a fish!</p>
+
+<p>Somewhere out there a couple of hundred yards the big fish came up and
+roared on the surface. I saw only circling wake and waves like those
+behind a speedy motor-boat. But Dan let out a strange shout, and up
+above the girls screamed, and brother Rome yelled murder or something. I
+gathered that he had a camera.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Steady up there!&#8221; I called out. &#8220;If you fall overboard it&#8217;s good
+night!... For we want this fish!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>I had all I could do. Dan would order me to steer this way and that&mdash;to
+throw out the clutch&mdash;to throw it in. Still I was able to keep track of
+events. This fish made nineteen rushes in the succeeding <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span>half-hour.
+Never for an instant did Captain Dan let up. Assuredly during that time
+he spent more force on the fish than I had in six hours.</p>
+
+<p>The sea was bad, the boat was rolling, the cockpit was inches deep under
+water many a time. I was hard put to it to stay at my post; and what
+saved the watchers above could not be explained by me.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mebbe I can hold him now&mdash;a little,&#8221; called Dan once, as he got the
+hundred-foot mark over the reel. &#8220;Strap the harness on me!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>I fastened the straps round Dan&#8217;s broad shoulders. His shirt was as wet
+as if he had fallen overboard. Maybe some of that wet was spray. His
+face was purple, his big arms bulging, and he whistled as he breathed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Good-by, Dan. This will be a fitting end for a boatman,&#8221; I said,
+cheerfully, as I dove back to the wheel.</p>
+
+<p>At six o&#8217;clock our fish was going strong and Dan was tiring fast. He
+had, of course, worked too desperately hard.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile the sun sank and the sea went down. All the west was gold and
+red, with the towers of Church Rock spiring the horizon. A flock of
+gulls were circling low, perhaps over a school of tuna. The white
+cottages of Avalon looked mere specks on the dark island.</p>
+
+<p>Captain Dan had the swordfish within a hundred feet of the boat and was
+able to hold him. This seemed hopeful. It looked now just a matter of a
+little more time. But Dan needed a rest.</p>
+
+<p>I suggested that my brother come down and take a hand in the final
+round, which I frankly confessed was liable to be hell.</p>
+
+<p><a name="illo22" id="illo22"></a></p><div class="figcenter" style="width: 423px;">
+<img src="images/illus103.jpg" class="jpg ispace" width="423" height="500" alt="FOUR MARLIN SWORDFISH IN ONE DAY" title="" />
+<span class="caption">FOUR MARLIN SWORDFISH IN ONE DAY</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><a name="illo23" id="illo23"></a></p><div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/illus104.jpg" class="jpg ispace" width="500" height="286" alt="A BIG SAILFISH BREAKING WATER" title="" />
+<span class="caption">A BIG SAILFISH BREAKING WATER</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span>&#8220;Not on your life!&#8221; was the prompt reply. &#8220;I want to begin on a <i>little</i>
+swordfish!... Why, that&mdash;that fish hasn&#8217;t waked up yet!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>And I was bound to confess there seemed to me to be a good deal of sense
+in what he said.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Dan, I&#8217;ll take the rod&mdash;rest you a bit&mdash;so you can finish him,&#8221; I
+offered.</p>
+
+<p>The half-hour Dan recorded as my further work on this fish will always
+be a dark and poignant blank in my fishing experience. When it was over
+twilight had come and the fish was rolling and circling perhaps fifty
+yards from the boat.</p>
+
+<p>Here Dan took the rod again, and with the harness on and fresh gloves
+went at the fish in grim determination.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly the moon sailed out from behind a fog-bank and the sea was
+transformed. It was as beautiful as it was lucky for us.</p>
+
+<p>By Herculean effort Dan brought the swordfish close. If any angler
+doubts the strength of a twenty-four thread line his experience is still
+young. That line was a rope, yet it sang like a banjo string.</p>
+
+<p>Leaning over the side, with two pairs of gloves on, I caught the double
+line, and as I pulled and Dan reeled the fish came up nearer. But I
+could not see him. Then I reached the leader and held on as for dear
+life.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve got the leader!&#8221; I yelled. &#8220;Hurry, Dan!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Dan dropped the rod and reached for his gaff. But he had neglected to
+unhook the rod from the harness, and as the fish lunged and tore the
+leader <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span>away from me there came near to being disaster. However, Dan got
+straightened out and anchored in the chair and began to haul away again.
+It appeared we had the fish almost done, but he was so big that a mere
+movement of his tail irresistibly drew out the line.</p>
+
+<p>Then the tip of the rod broke off short just even with the splints and
+it slid down the line out of sight. Dan lowered the rod so most of the
+strain would come on the reel, and now he held like grim death.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Dan, if we don&#8217;t make any more mistakes we&#8217;ll get that fish!&#8221; I
+declared.</p>
+
+<p>The sea was almost calm now, and moon-blanched so that we could plainly
+see the line. Despite Dan&#8217;s efforts, the swordfish slowly ran off a
+hundred feet more of line. Dan groaned. But I yelled with sheer
+exultation. For, standing up on the gunwale, I saw the swordfish. He had
+come up. He was phosphorescent&mdash;a long gleam of silver&mdash;and he rolled in
+the unmistakable manner of a fish nearly beaten.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly he headed for the boat. It was a strange motion. I was
+surprised&mdash;then frightened. Dan reeled in rapidly. The streak of white
+gleamed closer and closer. It was like white fire&mdash;a long, savage,
+pointed shape.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Look! Look!&#8221; I yelled to those above. &#8220;Don&#8217;t miss it!... Oh, great!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He&#8217;s charging the boat!&#8221; hoarsely shouted Dan.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He&#8217;s all in!&#8221; yelled my brother.</p>
+
+<p>I jumped into the cockpit and leaned over the gunwale beside the rod.
+Then I grasped the line, letting it slip through my hands. Dan wound in
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span>with fierce energy. I felt the end of the double line go by me, and at
+this I let out another shout to warn Dan. Then I had the end of the
+leader&mdash;a good strong grip&mdash;and, looking down, I saw the clear silver
+outline of the hugest fish I had ever seen short of shark or whale. He
+made a beautiful, wild, frightful sight. He rolled on his back.
+Roundbill or broadbill, he had an enormous length of sword.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Come, Dan&mdash;we&#8217;ve got him!&#8221; I panted.</p>
+
+<p>Dan could not, dare not get up then.</p>
+
+<p>The situation was perilous. I saw how Dan clutched the reel, with his
+big thumbs biting into the line. I did my best. My sight failed me for
+an instant. But the fish pulled the leader through my hands. My brother
+leaped down to help&mdash;alas, too late!</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Let go, Dan! Give him line!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>But Dan was past that. Afterward he said his grip was locked. He held,
+and not another foot did the swordfish get. Again I leaned over the
+gunwale. I saw him&mdash;a monster&mdash;pale, wavering. His tail had an
+enormous spread. I could no longer see his sword. Almost he was ready to
+give up.</p>
+
+<p>Then the double line snapped. I fell back in the boat and Dan fell back
+in the chair.</p>
+
+<p>Nine hours!</p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="V" id="V"></a>V</h2>
+
+<h3>SAILFISH&mdash;THE ATLANTIC BROTHER TO THE PACIFIC<br />SWORDFISH</h3>
+
+<p>In the winter of 1916 I persuaded Captain Sam Johnson, otherwise famous
+as Horse-mackerel Sam, of Seabright, New Jersey, to go to Long Key with
+me and see if the two of us as a team could not outwit those illusive
+and strange sailfish of the Gulf Stream.</p>
+
+<p>Sam and I have had many adventures going down to sea. At Seabright we
+used to launch a Seabright skiff in the gray gloom of early morning and
+shoot the surf, and return shoreward in the afternoon to ride a great
+swell clear till it broke on the sand. When I think of Sam I think of
+tuna&mdash;those torpedoes of the ocean. I have caught many tuna with Sam,
+and hooked big ones, but these giants are still roving the blue deeps.
+Once I hooked a tuna off Sandy Hook, out in the channel, and as I was
+playing him the <i>Lusitania</i> bore down the channel. Like a mountain she
+loomed over us. I felt like an atom looking up and up. Passengers waved
+down to us as the tuna bent my rod. The great ship passed on in a
+seething roar&mdash;passed on to her tragic fate. We rode the heavy swells
+she lifted&mdash;and my tuna got away.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span>Sam Johnson is from Norway. His ancestors lived by fishing. Sam knows
+and loves the sea. He has been a sailor before the mast, but he is more
+fisherman than sailor. He is a stalwart man, with an iron, stern,
+weather-beaten face and keen blue eyes, and he has an arm like the
+branch of an oak. For many years he has been a market fisherman at
+Seabright, where on off days he pursued the horse-mackerel for the fun
+of it, and which earned him his name. Better than any man I ever met Sam
+knows the sea; he knows fish, he knows boats and engines. And I have
+reached a time in my experience of fishing where I want that kind of a
+boatman.</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p>Sam and I went after sailfish at Long Key and we got them. But I do not
+consider the experience conclusive. If it had not been for my
+hard-earned knowledge of the Pacific swordfish, and for Sam&#8217;s keenness
+on the sea, we would not have been so fortunate. We established the
+record, but, what is more important, we showed what magnificent sport is
+possible. This advent added much to the attractiveness of Long Key for
+me. And Long Key was attractive enough before.</p>
+
+<p>Sailfish had been caught occasionally at Long Key, during every season.
+But I am inclined to believe that, in most instances, the capture of
+sailfish had been accident&mdash;mere fisherman&#8217;s luck. Anglers have fished
+along the reef and inside, trolling with heavy tackle for anything that
+might strike, and once in a while a sailfish has somehow hooked himself.
+Mr. Schutt tells of hooking one on a Wilson spoon, and I know of another
+angler <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span>who had this happen. I know of one gentleman who told me he
+hooked a fish that he supposed was a barracuda, and while he was
+fighting this supposed barracuda he was interested in the leaping of a
+sailfish near his boat. His boatman importuned him to hurry in the
+barracuda so there would be a chance to go after the leaping sailfish.
+But it turned out that the sailfish was on his hook. Another angler went
+out with heavy rod, the great B-Ocean reel, and two big hooks (which is
+an outfit suitable only for large tuna or swordfish), and this fellow
+hooked a sailfish which had no chance and was dead in less than ten
+minutes. A party of anglers were out on the reef, fishing for anything,
+and they decided to take a turn outside where I had been spending days
+after sailfish. Scarcely had these men left the reef when five sailfish
+loomed up and all of them, with that perversity and capriciousness which
+makes fish so incomprehensible, tried to climb on board the boat. One, a
+heavy fish, did succeed in hooking himself and getting aboard. I could
+multiply events of this nature, but this is enough to illustrate my
+point&mdash;that there is a vast difference between several fishermen out of
+thousands bringing in several sailfish in one season and one fisherman
+deliberately going after sailfish with light tackle and eventually
+getting them.</p>
+
+<p>It is not easy. On the contrary, it is extremely hard. It takes infinite
+patience, and very much has to be learned that can be learned only by
+experience. But it is magnificent sport and worth any effort. It makes
+tarpon-fishing tame by comparison. Tarpon-fishing is easy. Anybody can
+catch a tarpon <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span>by going after him. But not every fisherman can catch a
+sailfish. One fisherman out of a hundred will get his sailfish, but only
+one out of a thousand will experience the wonder and thrill and beauty
+of the sport.</p>
+
+<p>Sailfishing is really swordfishing, and herein lies the secret of my
+success at Long Key. I am not satisfied that the sailfish I caught were
+all Marlin and brothers to the Pacific Marlin. The Atlantic fish are
+very much smaller than those of the Pacific, and are differently marked
+and built. Yet they are near enough alike to be brothers.</p>
+
+<p>There are three species that I know of in southern waters. The
+<i>Histiophorus</i>, the sailfish about which I am writing and of which
+descriptions follow. There is another species, <i>Tetrapturus albidus</i>,
+that is not uncommon in the Gulf Stream. It is my impression that this
+species is larger. The Indians, with whom I fished in the Caribbean,
+tell of a great swordfish&mdash;in Spanish the <i>Aguja de casta</i>, and this
+species must be related to <i>Xiphias</i>, the magnificent flatbilled
+swordfish of the Atlantic and Pacific.</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p>The morning of my greatest day with sailfish I was out in the Gulf
+Stream, seven miles offshore, before the other fishermen had gotten out
+of bed. We saw the sun rise ruddy and bright out of the eastern sea, and
+we saw sailfish leap as if to welcome the rising of the lord of day. A
+dark, glancing ripple wavered over the water; there was just enough
+swell to make seeing fish easy.</p>
+
+<p>I was using a rod that weighed nine ounces over all, and twelve hundred
+feet of fifteen-thread line. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span>I was not satisfied then that the regular
+light outfit of the Tuna Club, such as I used at Avalon, would do for
+sailfish. No. 9 breaks of its own weight. And I have had a sailfish run
+off three hundred yards of line and jump all the time he was doing it.
+Besides, nobody knows how large these sailfish grow. I had hold of one
+that would certainly have broken my line if he had not thrown the hook.</p>
+
+<p>On this memorable day I had scarcely trolled half a mile out into the
+Stream before I felt that inexplicable rap at my bait which swordfish
+and sailfish make with their bills. I jumped up and got ready. I saw a
+long bronze shape back of my bait. Then I saw and felt him take hold. He
+certainly did not encounter the slightest resistance in running out my
+line. He swam off slowly. I never had Sam throw out the clutch and stop
+the boat until after I had hooked the fish. I wanted the boat to keep
+moving, so if I did get a chance to strike at a fish it would be with a
+tight line. These sailfish are wary and this procedure is difficult. If
+the fish had run off swiftly I would have struck sooner. Everything
+depends on how he takes the bait. This fellow took fifty feet of line
+before I hooked him.</p>
+
+<p>He came up at once, and with two-thirds of his body out of the water he
+began to skitter toward us. He looked silver and bronze in the morning
+light. There was excitement on board. Sam threw out the clutch. My
+companions dove for the cameras, and we all yelled. The sailfish came
+skittering toward us. It was a spectacular and thrilling sight. He was
+not powerful enough to rise clear on his tail and do the famous trick of
+the Pacific swordfish&mdash;&#8220;walking <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span>on the water.&#8221; But he gave a mighty
+good imitation. Then before the cameras got in a snap he went down. And
+he ran, to come up far astern and begin to leap. I threw off the drag
+and yelled, &#8220;Go!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><a name="illo24" id="illo24"></a></p><div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/illus113.jpg" class="ispace jpg" width="500" height="299" alt="FOUR SAILFISH IN ONE DAY ON LIGHT TACKLE" title="" />
+<span class="caption">FOUR SAILFISH IN ONE DAY ON LIGHT TACKLE</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><a name="illo25" id="illo25"></a></p><div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/illus114.jpg" class="ispace jpg" width="500" height="292" alt="Photo by Wunstorf" title="" />
+<span class="caption"><span style="margin-left: 23em; font-weight: normal">Photo by Wunstorf<br /></span>
+SAILFISH THRESHING ON THE SURFACE</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>This was pleasant for Sam, who kept repeating, &#8220;Look at him yump!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The sailfish evidently wanted to pose for pictures, for he gave a
+wonderful exhibition of high and lofty tumbling, with the result, of
+course, that he quickly exhausted himself. Then came a short period
+during which he sounded and I slowly worked him closer. Presently he
+swam toward the boat&mdash;the old swordfish trick. I never liked it, but
+with the sailfish I at least was not nervous about him attacking the
+boat. Let me add here that this freedom from dread&mdash;which is never
+absent during the fighting of a big swordfish&mdash;is one of the features so
+attractive in sailfishing. Besides, fish that have been hooked for any
+length of time, if they are going to shake or break loose, always do so
+near the boat. We moved away from this fellow, and presently he came up
+again, and leaped three more times clear, making nineteen leaps in all.
+That about finished his performance, so regretfully I led him alongside;
+and Sam, who had profited by our other days of landing sailfish, took
+him cautiously by the sword, and then by the gills, and slid him into
+the boat.</p>
+
+<p>Sailfish are never alike, except in general outline. This one was silver
+and bronze, with green bars, rather faint, and a dark-blue sail without
+any spots. He measured seven feet one inch. But we measured <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span>his quality
+by his leaps and nineteen gave him the record for us so far.</p>
+
+<p>We stowed him up in the bow and got under way again, and scarcely had I
+let my bait far enough astern when a sailfish hit it. In fact, he rushed
+it. Quick as I was, which was as quick as a flash, I was not quick
+enough for that fish. He felt the hook and he went away. But he had been
+there long enough to get my bait.</p>
+
+<p>Just then Sam pointed. I saw a sailfish break water a hundred yards
+away.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Look at him yump!&#8221; repeated Sam, every time the fish came out, which,
+to be exact, was five times.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;ll go over and pick him up,&#8221; I said.</p>
+
+<p>Sam and I always argue a little about the exact spot where a fish has
+broken water. I never missed it far, but Sam seldom missed it at all. He
+could tell by a slight foam always left by the break. We had two baits
+out, as one or another of my companions always holds a rod. The more
+baits out the better! We had two vicious, smashing strikes at the same
+time. The fish on the other rod let go just as I hooked mine.</p>
+
+<p>He came up beautifully, throwing the spray, glinting in the sun, an
+angry fish with sail spread and his fins going. Then on the boat was the
+same old thrilling bustle and excitement and hilarity I knew so well and
+which always pleased me so much. This sailfish was a jumper.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Look at him yump!&#8221; exclaimed Sam, with as much glee as if he had not
+seen it before.</p>
+
+<p>The cameras got busy. Then I was attracted by something flashing in the
+water nearer the boat <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span>than my fish. Suddenly a sailfish leaped,
+straightaway, over my line. Then two leaped at once, both directly over
+my line.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Sam, they&#8217;ll cut my line!&#8221; I cried. &#8220;What do you think of that?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly I saw sharp, dark, curved tails cutting the water. All was
+excitement on board that boat then.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A school of sailfish! Look! Look!&#8221; I yelled.</p>
+
+<p>I counted ten tails, but there were more than that, and if I had been
+quicker I could have counted more. Presently they went down. And I,
+returning to earth and the business of fishing, discovered that during
+the excitement my sailfish had taken advantage of a perfectly loose line
+to free himself. Nine leaps we recorded him!</p>
+
+<p>Assuredly we all felt that there would be no difficulty in soon hooking
+up with another sailfish. And precisely three minutes later I was
+standing up, leaning forward, all aquiver, watching my line fly off the
+reel. I hooked that fellow hard. He was heavy, and he did not come up or
+take off any length of line. Settling down slowly, he descended three or
+four hundred feet, or so it seemed, and began to plug, very much like an
+albacore, only much heavier. He fooled around down there for ten
+minutes, with me jerking at him all the time to irritate him, before he
+showed any sign of rising. At last I worried him into a fighting mood,
+and up he came, so fast that I did not even try to take up the slack,
+and he shot straight up. This jump, like that of a kingfish, was
+wonderful. But it was so quick that the cameras could not cover it, and
+we missed a <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span>great picture. He went down, only to leap again. I reeled
+in the slack line and began to jerk at him to torment him, and I got him
+to jumping and threshing right near the boat. The sun was in the faces
+of the cameras and that was bad. And as it turned out not one of these
+exposures was good. What a chance missed! But we did not know that then,
+and we kept on tormenting him and snapping pictures of his leaps. In
+this way, which was not careless, but deliberate, I played with him
+until he shook out the hook. Fifteen leaps was his record.</p>
+
+<p>Then it was interesting to see how soon I could raise another fish. I
+was on the <i>qui vive</i> for a while, then settled back to the old
+expectant watchfulness. And presently I was rewarded by that vibrating
+rap at my bait. I stood up so the better to see. The swells were just
+right and the sun was over my shoulder. I spied the long, dark shape
+back of my bait, saw it slide up and strike, felt the sharp rap&mdash;and
+again. Then came the gentle tug. I let out line, but he let go. Still I
+could see him plainly when the swell was right. I began to jerk my bait,
+to give it a jumping motion, as I had so often done with flying-fish
+bait when after swordfish. He sheered off, then turned with a rush,
+broadside on, with his sail up. I saw him clearly, his whole length, and
+he appeared blue and green and silver. He took the bait and turned away
+from me, and when I struck the hook into his jaw I felt that it would
+stay. He was not a jumper&mdash;only breaking clear twice. I could not make
+him leap. He fought hard enough, however, and with that tackle took
+thirty minutes to land.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span>It was eight o&#8217;clock. I had two sailfish in the boat and had fought two
+besides. And at that time I sighted the first fishing-boat coming out
+toward the reef. Before that boat got out near us I had struck and lost
+three more sailfish, with eleven leaps in all to my credit. This boatman
+had followed Sam and me the day before and he appeared to be bent upon
+repeating himself. I thought I would rather enjoy that, because he had
+two inexperienced anglers aboard, and they, in the midst of a school of
+striking sailfish, would be sure to afford some fun. Three other boats
+came out across the reef, ventured a little way in the Gulf Stream, and
+then went back to grouper and barracuda. But that one boatman, B., stuck
+to us. And right away things began to happen to his anglers. No one so
+lucky in strikes as a green hand! I saw them get nine strikes without
+hooking a fish. And there appeared to be a turmoil on board that boat. I
+saw B. tearing his hair and the fishermen frantically jerking, and then
+waving rods and arms. Much as I enjoyed it, Sam enjoyed it more. But I
+was not mean enough to begrudge them a fish and believed that sooner or
+later they would catch one.</p>
+
+<p>Presently, when B.&#8217;s boat was just right for his anglers to see
+everything my way, I felt a tug on my line. I leaped up, let the reel
+run. Then I threw on my drag and leaned over to strike. But he let go.
+Quickly I threw off the drag. The sailfish came back. Another tug! I let
+him run. Then threw on the drag and got ready. But, no, he let go. Again
+I threw off the drag and again he came back. He was hungry, but he was
+cunning, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span>too, and too far back for me to see. I let him run fifty feet,
+threw on the drag, and struck hard. No go! I missed him. But again I
+threw off the drag, let out more line back to him, and he took the bait
+the fourth time, and harder than ever. I let him run perhaps a hundred
+feet. All the time, of course, my boat was running. I had out a long
+line&mdash;two hundred yards. Then I threw on the drag and almost cracked the
+rod. This time I actually felt the hook go in.</p>
+
+<p>How heavy and fast he was! The line slipped off and I was afraid of the
+drag. I threw it off&mdash;no easy matter with that weight on it&mdash;and then
+the line whistled. The sailfish was running straight toward B.&#8217;s boat
+and, I calculated, should be close to it.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Sam,&#8221; I yelled, &#8220;watch him! If he jumps he&#8217;ll jump into that boat!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Then he came out, the biggest sailfish I ever saw, and he leaped
+magnificently, not twenty yards back of that boat. He must have been
+beyond the lines of the trolling anglers. I expected him to cross them
+or cut himself loose. We yelled to B. to steer off, and while we yelled
+the big sailfish leaped and leaped, apparently keeping just as close to
+the boat. He certainly was right upon it and he was a savage leaper. He
+would shoot up, wag his head, his sail spread like the ears of a mad
+elephant, and he would turn clear over to alight with a smack and splash
+that we plainly heard. And he had out nine hundred feet of line. Because
+of his size I wanted him badly, but, badly as that was, I fought him
+without a drag, let him run and leap, and I <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span>hoped he would jump right
+into that boat. Afterward these anglers told me they expected him to do
+just that and were scared to death. Also they said a close sight of him
+leaping was beautiful and thrilling in the extreme.</p>
+
+<p>I did not keep track of all this sailfish&#8217;s leaps, but Sam recorded
+twenty-three, and that is enough for any fisherman. I venture to state
+that it will not be beaten very soon. When he stopped leaping we drew
+him away from the other boat, and settled down to a hard fight with a
+heavy, stubborn, game fish. In perhaps half an hour I had him twenty
+yards away, and there he stayed while I stood up on the stern to watch
+him and keep clear of the propeller. He weaved from side to side,
+exactly like a tired swordfish, and every now and then he would stick
+out his bill and swish! he would cut at the leader. This fish was not
+only much larger than any I had seen, but also more brilliantly colored.
+There were suggestions of purple that reminded me of the swordfish&mdash;that
+royal purple game of the Pacific. Another striking feature was that in
+certain lights he was a vivid green, and again, when deeper, he assumed
+a strange, triangular shape, much like that of a kite. That, of course,
+was when he extended the wide, waving sail. I was not able to see that
+this sail afforded him any particular aid. It took me an hour to tire
+out this sailfish, and when we got him in the boat he measured seven
+feet and six inches, which was four inches longer than any record I
+could find then.</p>
+
+<p>At eleven o&#8217;clock I had another in the boat, making four sailfish in
+all. We got fourteen jumps out <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span>of this last one. That was the end of my
+remarkable luck, though it was luck to me to hook other sailfish during
+the afternoon, and running up the number of leaps. I am proud of that,
+anyway, and to those who criticized my catch as unsportsman-like I could
+only say that it was a chance of a lifetime and I was after photographs
+of leaping sailfish. Besides, I had a great opportunity to beat my
+record of four swordfish in one day at Clemente Island in the Pacific.
+But I was not equal to it.</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p>I do not know how to catch sailfish yet, though I have caught a good
+many. The sport is young and it is as difficult as it is trying. This
+catch of mine made fishermen flock to the Stream all the rest of the
+season, and more fish were caught than formerly. But the proportion held
+about the same, although I consider that fishing for a sailfish and
+catching one is a great gain in point. Still, we do not know much about
+sailfish or how to take them. If I got twenty strikes and caught only
+four fish, very likely the smallest that bit, I most assuredly was not
+doing skilful fishing as compared with other kinds of fishing. And there
+is the rub. Sailfish are not any other kind of fish. They have a wary
+and cunning habit, with an exceptional occasion of blind hunger, and
+they have small, bony jaws into which it is hard to sink a hook. Not one
+of my sailfish was hooked deep down. Yet I let nearly all of them run
+out a long line. Moreover, as I said before, if a sailfish is hooked
+there are ten chances to one that he will free himself.</p>
+
+<p><a name="illo26" id="illo26"></a></p><div class="figcenter" style="width: 351px;">
+<img src="images/illus123.jpg" class="ispace jpg" width="351" height="500" alt="MEMORABLE OF LONG KEY" title="" />
+<span class="caption">MEMORABLE OF LONG KEY</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><a name="illo27" id="illo27"></a></p><div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
+<img src="images/illus124t.jpg" class="ispace jpg" width="400" height="184" alt="Leaping Sailfish 1" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
+<img src="images/illus124b.jpg" class="jpg smispace" width="400" height="184" alt="Leaping Sailfish 2" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 400px;">
+<img src="images/illus124c.jpg" class="jpg smispace" width="400" height="184" alt="Leaping Sailfish 3" title="" />
+<span class="caption">LEAPING SAILFISH</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span>This one thing, then, I believe I have proved to myself&mdash;that the
+sailfish is the gamest, the most beautiful and spectacular, and the
+hardest fish to catch on light tackle, just as his brother, the Pacific
+swordfish, is the grandest fish to take on the heaviest of tackle.</p>
+
+<p>Long Key, indeed, has its charm. Most all the anglers who visit there go
+back again. Only the queer ones&mdash;and there are many&mdash;who want three
+kinds of boats, and nine kinds of bait, and a deep-sea diver for a
+boatman, and tackle that cannot be broken, and smooth, calm seas always,
+and five hundred pounds of fish a day&mdash;only that kind complain of Long
+Key and kick&mdash;and yet go back again!</p>
+
+<p>Sailfish will draw more and finer anglers down to the white strip of
+color that shines white all day under a white sun and the same all night
+under white stars. But it is not alone the fish that draws real
+sportsmen to a place and makes them love it and profit by their return.
+It is the spirit of the place&mdash;the mystery, like that of the little
+hermit-crab, which crawls over the coral sand in his stolen shell, and
+keeps to his lonely course, and loves his life so well&mdash;sunshine, which
+is best of all for men; and the wind in the waving palms; and the
+lonely, wandering coast with the eternal moan out on the reefs, the
+sweet, fresh tang, the clear, antiseptic breath of salt, and always by
+the glowing, hot, colorful day or by the soft dark night with its
+shadows and whisperings on the beach, that significant presence&mdash;the
+sense of something vaster than the heaving sea.</p>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span><i>Light Tackle in the Gulf Stream</i></p>
+
+<p>In view of the present controversy between light tackle and heavy tackle
+champions, I think it advisable for me to state more definitely my stand
+on the matter of light tackle before going on with a story about it.</p>
+
+<p>There is a sharp line to be drawn between light tackle that is right and
+light tackle that is wrong. So few anglers ever seem to think of the
+case of the poor fish! In Borneo there is a species of lightning-bug
+that tourists carry around at night on spits, delighted with the
+novelty. But is that not rather hard on the lightning-bugs? As a matter
+of fact, if we are to develop as anglers who believe in conservation and
+sportsmanship, we must consider the fish&mdash;his right to life, and,
+especially if he must be killed, to do it without brutality.</p>
+
+<p>Brutal it is to haul in a fish on tackle so heavy that he has no chance
+for his life; likewise it is brutal to hook a fish on tackle so light
+that, if he does not break it, he must be followed around and all over,
+chased by a motor-boat hour after hour, until he practically dies of
+exhaustion.</p>
+
+<p>I have had many tarpon and many tuna taken off my hooks by sharks
+because I was using tackle too light. It never appeared an impossible
+feat to catch Marlin swordfish on a nine-thread line, nor sailfish on a
+six-thread line. But those lines are too light.</p>
+
+<p>My business is to tell stories. If I can be so fortunate as to make them
+thrilling and pleasing, for the edification of thousands who have other
+business <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span>and therefore less leisure, then that is a splendid thing for
+me. It is a responsibility that I appreciate. But on the other hand I
+must tell the truth, I must show my own development, I must be of
+service to the many who have so much more time to read than fish. It is
+not enough to give pleasure merely; a writer should instruct. And if
+what I say above offends any fisherman, I am sorry, and I suggest that
+he read it twice.</p>
+
+<p>What weight tackle to use is not such a hard problem to decide. All it
+takes is some experience. To quote Mr. Bates, &#8220;The principle is that the
+angler should subdue the fish by his skill with rod and line, and put
+his strength into the battle to <i>end</i> it, and not employ a worrying
+process to a frightened fish that does not know what it is fighting.&#8221;</p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="VI" id="VI"></a>VI</h2>
+
+<h3>GULF STREAM FISHING</h3>
+
+<p>Some years have passed since I advocated light tackle fishing at Long
+Key. In the early days of this famous resort most fishermen used hand
+lines or very heavy outfits. The difficulties of introducing a
+sportsman-like ideal have been manifold. A good rule of angling
+philosophy is not to interfere with any fisherman&#8217;s peculiar ways of
+being happy, unless you want to be hated. It is not easy to influence a
+majority of men in the interests of conservation. Half of them do not
+know the conditions and are only out for a few days&#8217; or weeks&#8217; fun; the
+rest do not care. But the facts are that all food fish and game fish
+must be conserved. The waste has been enormous. If fishermen will only
+study the use of light tackle they will soon appreciate a finer sport,
+more fun and gratification, and a saving of fish.</p>
+
+<p>Such expert and fine anglers as Crowninshield, Heilner, Cassiard,
+Lester, Conill, and others are all enthusiastic about light tackle and
+they preach the gospel of conservation.</p>
+
+<p>But the boatmen of Long Key, with the exception of Jordon, are all
+against light tackle. I must say that James Jordon is to be
+congratulated and recommended. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span>The trouble at Long Key is that new
+boatmen are hired each season, and, as they do not own their boats, all
+their interest centers in as big a catch as possible for each angler
+they take out, in the hope and expectation, of course, of a generous
+tip. Heavy tackle means a big catch and light tackle the reverse. And so
+tons of good food and game fish are brought in only to be thrown to the
+sharks. I mention this here to give it a wide publicity. It is criminal
+in these days and ought to be stopped.</p>
+
+<p>The season of 1918 was a disappointment in regard to any great
+enthusiasm over the use of light tackle. We have tried to introduce
+principles of the Tuna Club of Avalon. President Coxe of the Pacific
+organization is doing much to revive the earlier ideals of Doctor
+Holder, founder of the famous club. This year at Long Key a number of
+prizes were offered by individual members. The contention was that the
+light tackle specified was too light. This is absolutely a mistake. I
+have proved that the regulation Tuna Club nine-thread line and six-ounce
+tip are strong enough, if great care and skill be employed, to take the
+tricky, hard-jawed, wild-leaping sailfish.</p>
+
+<p>And for bonefish, that rare fighter known to so few anglers, the
+three-six tackle&mdash;a three-ounce tip and six-thread line&mdash;is just the
+ideal rig to make the sport exceedingly difficult, fascinating, and
+thrilling. Old bonefishermen almost invariably use heavy tackle&mdash;stiff
+rods and twelve-or fifteen-thread lines. They have their arguments, and
+indeed these are hard nuts to crack. They claim three-six for <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span>the swift
+and powerful bonefish is simply absurd. No! I can prove otherwise. But
+that must be another story.</p>
+
+<p>Some one must pioneer these sorely needed reforms. It may be a thankless
+task, but it is one that some of us are standing by. We need the help of
+brother anglers.</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p>One morning in February there was a light breeze from the north and the
+day promised to be ideal. We ran out to the buoy and found the Gulf
+Stream a very dark blue, with a low ripple and a few white-caps here and
+there.</p>
+
+<p>Above the spindle we began to see sailfish jumping everywhere. One
+leaped thirteen times, and another nineteen. Many of them came out
+sidewise, with a long, sliding plunge, which action at first I took to
+be that made by a feeding fish. After a while, however, and upon closer
+view, I changed my mind about this.</p>
+
+<p>My method, upon seeing a fish jump, was to speed up the boat until we
+were in the vicinity where the fish had come up. Then we would slow down
+and begin trolling, with two baits out, one some forty or fifty feet
+back and the other considerably farther.</p>
+
+<p>We covered several places where we had seen the sheetlike splashes; and
+at the third or fourth I felt the old electrifying tap at my bait. I
+leaped up and let my bait run back. The sailfish tapped again, then took
+hold so hard and ran off so swiftly that I jerked sooner than usual. I
+pulled the bait away from him. All this time the boat was running.
+Instead of winding in I let the bait run back. Suddenly <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span>the sailfish
+took it fiercely. I let him run a long way before I struck at him, and
+then I called to the boatman to throw out the clutch. When the boat is
+moving there is a better chance of a tight line while striking, and that
+is imperative if an angler expects to hook the majority of these
+illusive sailfish. I hooked this fellow, and he showed at once, a small
+fish, and began to leap toward the boat, making a big bag in the line. I
+completely lost the feel of his weight. When he went down, and with all
+that slack line, I thought he was gone. But presently the line tightened
+and he began to jump in another direction. He came out twice with his
+sail spread, a splendid, vivid picture; then he took to skittering,
+occasionally throwing himself clear, and he made some surface runs,
+splashing and threshing, and then made some clean greyhound-like leaps.
+In all he cleared the water eleven times before he settled down. After
+that it took me half an hour to land him. He was not hurt and we let him
+go.</p>
+
+<p>Soon after we got going again we raised a school of four or more
+sailfish. And when a number rush for the baits it is always exciting.
+The first fish hit my bait and the second took R. C.&#8217;s. I saw both fish
+in action, and there is considerable difference between the hitting and
+the taking of a bait. R. C. jerked his bait away from his fish and I
+yelled for him to let it run back. He did so. A bronze and silver blaze
+and a boil on the water told me how hungry R. C.&#8217;s sailfish was. &#8220;Let
+him run with it!&#8221; I yelled. Then I attended to my own troubles. There
+was a fish rapping at my bait. I let out line, yard after yard, but he
+would not take hold, and, as <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span>R. C.&#8217;s line was sweeping over mine, I
+thought best to reel in.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hook him now!&#8221; I yelled.</p>
+
+<p>I surely did shiver at the way my brother came up with that light
+tackle. But he hooked the sailfish, and nothing broke. Then came a big
+white splash on the surface, but no sign of the fish. R. C.&#8217;s line
+sagged down.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Look out! Wind in! He&#8217;s coming at us!&#8221; I called.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He&#8217;s off!&#8221; replied my brother.</p>
+
+<p>That might well have been, but, as I expected, he was not. He broke
+water on a slack line and showed us all his dripping, colorful body
+nearer than a hundred feet. R. C. thereupon performed with incredible
+speed at the reel and quickly had a tight line. Mr. Sailfish did not
+like that. He slid out, wrathfully wagging his bill, and left a seamy,
+foamy track behind him, finally to end that play with a splendid long
+leap. He was headed away from us now, with two hundred yards of line
+out, going hard and fast, and we had to follow him. We had a fine
+straightaway run to recover the line. This was a thrilling chase, and
+one, I think, we never would have had if R. C. had been using heavy
+tackle. The sailfish led us out half a mile before he sounded.</p>
+
+<p>Then in fifteen minutes more R. C. had him up where we could see his
+purple and bronze colors and the strange, triangular form of him, which
+peculiar shape came mostly from the waving sail. I thought I saw other
+shapes and colors with him, and bent over the gunwale to see better.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He&#8217;s got company. Two sharks!&mdash;You want to do some quick work now or
+good-by sailfish!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><a name="illo28" id="illo28"></a></p><div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/illus133.jpg" class="ispace jpg" width="500" height="281" alt="SOLITUDE ON THE SEA" title="" />
+<span class="caption"><span style="margin-left: 25.5em; font-weight: normal">Nassau Photo<br /></span>
+SOLITUDE ON THE SEA</span></div>
+
+<p><a name="illo29" id="illo29"></a></p><div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/illus134.jpg" class="ispace jpg" width="500" height="294" alt="SUNSET BY THE SEA" title="" />
+<span class="caption"><span style="margin-left: 25.5em; font-weight: normal">Nassau Photo<br /></span>
+SUNSET BY THE SEA</span></div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span>A small gray shark and a huge yellow shark were coming up with our
+quarry. R. C. said things, and pulled hard on the light tackle. I got
+hold of the leader and drew the sailfish close to the boat. He began to
+thresh, and the big shark came with a rush. Instinctively I let go of
+the leader, which action was a blunder. The sailfish saw the shark and,
+waking up, he fought a good deal harder than before the sharks appeared
+upon the scene. He took off line, and got so far away that I gave up any
+hope that the sharks might not get him. There was a heavy commotion out
+in the water. The shark had made a rush. So had the sailfish, and he
+came right back to the boat. R. C. reeled in swiftly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hold him hard now!&#8221; I admonished, and I leaped up on the stern. The
+sailfish sheered round on the surface, with tail and bill out, while the
+shark swam about five feet under him. He was a shovel-nosed, big-finned
+yellow shark, weighing about five hundred pounds. He saw me. I waved my
+hat at him, but he did not mind that. He swam up toward the surface and
+his prey. R. C. was now handling the light tackle pretty roughly. It is
+really remarkable what can be done with nine-thread. In another moment
+we would have lost the sailfish. The boatman brought my rifle and a shot
+scared the shark away. Then we got the sailfish into the boat. He was a
+beautiful specimen for mounting, weighing forty-five pounds, the first
+my brother had taken.</p>
+
+<p>After that we had several strikes, but not one of them was what I could
+call a hungry, smashing strike. These sailfish are finicky biters. I had
+one <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span>rap at my bait with his bill until he knocked the bait off.</p>
+
+<p>I think the feature of the day was the sight of two flying-fish that
+just missed boarding the boat. They came out to the left of us and
+sailed ahead together. Then they must have been turned by the wind, for
+they made a beautiful, graceful curve until they came around so that I
+was sure they would fly into the boat. Their motion was indescribably
+airy and feathery, buoyant and swift, with not the slightest quiver of
+fins or wings as they passed within five feet of me. I could see through
+the crystal wings. Their bodies were white and silvery, and they had
+staring black eyes. They were not so large as the California
+flying-fish, nor did they have any blue color. They resembled the
+California species, however, in that same strange, hunted look which
+always struck me. To see these flying-fish this way was provocative of
+thought. They had been pursued by some hungry devil of a fish, and with
+a birdlike swiftness with which nature had marvelously endowed them they
+had escaped the enemy. Here I had at once the wonder and beauty and
+terror of the sea. These fish were not leaping with joy. I have not
+often seen fish in the salt water perform antics for anything except
+flight or pursuit. Sometimes kingfish appear to be playing when they
+leap so wonderfully at sunset hour, but as a rule salt-water fish do not
+seem to be playful.</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p>At Long Key the Gulf Stream is offshore five miles. The water shoals
+gradually anywhere from two feet near the beach to twenty feet five
+miles <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span>out on the reef. When there has been no wind for several days,
+which is a rare thing for Long Key, the water becomes crystal clear and
+the fish and marine creatures are an endless source of interest to the
+fisherman. Of course a large boat, in going out on the reef, must use
+the channel between the keys, but a small boat or canoe can go anywhere.
+It is remarkable how the great game fish come in from the Stream across
+the reef into shoal water. Barracuda come right up to the shore, and
+likewise the big sharks. The bottom is a clean, white, finely ribbed
+coral sand, with patches of brown seaweed here and there and golden
+spots, and in the shallower water different kinds of sponges. Out on the
+reef the water is a light green. The Gulf Stream runs along the outer
+edge of the reef, and here between Tennessee Buoy and Alligator Light,
+eighteen miles, is a feeding-ground for sailfish, kingfish, amberjack,
+barracuda, and other fishes. The ballyhoo is the main feed of these
+fishes, and it is indeed a queer little fish. He was made by nature,
+like the sardine and mullet and flying-fish, to serve as food for the
+larger fishes. The ballyhoo is about a foot long, slim and flat, shiny
+and white on the sides and dark green on the back, with a sharp-pointed,
+bright-yellow tail, the lower lobe of which is developed to twice the
+length of the upper. He has a very strange feature in the fact that his
+lower jaw resembles the bill of a snipe, being several inches long,
+sharp and pointed and hard; but he has no upper lip or beak at all. This
+half-bill must be used in relation to his food, but I do not have any
+idea how this is done.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span>One day I found the Gulf Stream a mile off Tennessee Buoy, whereas on
+other days it would be close in. On this particular day the water was a
+dark, clear, indigo blue and appreciably warmer than the surrounding
+sea. This Stream has a current of several miles an hour, flowing up the
+coast. Everywhere we saw the Portuguese men-of-war shining on the waves.
+There was a slight, cool breeze blowing, rippling the water just enough
+to make fishing favorable. I saw a big loggerhead turtle, weighing about
+three hundred pounds, coming around on the surface among these
+Portuguese men-of-war, and as we ran up I saw that he was feeding on
+these queer balloon-like little creatures. Sometimes he would come up
+under one and it would stick on his back, and he would turn laboriously
+around from under it, and submerge his back so he had it floating again.
+Then he would open his cavernous mouth and take it in. Considering the
+stinging poison these Portuguese men-of-war secrete about them, the
+turtle must have had a very tabasco-sauce meal. Right away I began to
+see evidence of fish on the surface, which is always a good sign. We
+went past a school of bonita breaking the water up into little swirls.
+Then I saw a smashing break of a sailfish coming out sideways, sending
+the water in white sheets. We slowed down the boat and got our baits
+overboard at once. I was using a ballyhoo bait hooked by a small hook
+through the lips, with a second and larger hook buried in the body. R.
+C. was using a strip of mullet, which for obvious reasons seems to be
+the preferred bait from Palm Beach to Long Key. And the obvious reason
+is that <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span>nobody seems to take the trouble to get what might be proper
+bait for sailfish. Mullet is an easy bait to get and commands just as
+high a price as anything else, which, as a matter of fact, is highway
+robbery. With a bait like a ballyhoo or a shiner I could get ten bites
+to one with mullet.</p>
+
+<p>We trolled along at slow speed. The air was cool, the sun pleasant, the
+sea beautiful, and this was the time to sit back and enjoy a sense of
+freedom and great space of the ocean, and watch for leaping fish or
+whatever might attract the eye.</p>
+
+<p>Here and there we passed a strange jellyfish, the like of which I had
+never before seen. It was about as large as a good-sized cantaloup, and
+pale, clear yellow all over one end and down through the middle, and
+then commenced a dark red fringe which had a waving motion. Inside this
+fringe was a scalloped circular appendage that had a sucking motion,
+which must have propelled it through the water, and it made quite fair
+progress. Around every one of these strange jellyfish was a little
+school of tiny minnows, as clear-colored as crystals. These all swam on
+in the same direction as the drift of the Gulf Stream.</p>
+
+<p>When we are fishing for sailfish everything that strikes we take to be a
+sailfish until we find out it is something else. They are inconsistent
+and queer fish. Sometimes they will rush a bait, at other times they
+will tug at it and then chew at it, and then they will tap it with their
+bills. I think I have demonstrated that they are about the hardest fish
+to hook that swims, and also on light tackle they are one of the gamest
+and most thrilling. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span>However, not one in a hundred fishermen who come to
+Long Key will go after them with light tackle. And likewise not one out
+of twenty-five sailfish brought in there is caught by a fisherman who
+deliberately went out after sailfish. Mostly they are caught by accident
+while drags are set for kingfish or barracuda. At Palm Beach I believe
+they fish for them quite persistently, with a great deal of success. But
+it is more a method of still fishing which has no charms for me.</p>
+
+<p>Presently my boatman yelled, &#8220;Sailfish!&#8221; We looked off to port and saw a
+big sailfish break water nine times. He was perhaps five hundred yards
+distant. My boatman put on speed, and, as my boat is fast, it did not
+take us long to get somewhere near where this big fish broke. We did our
+best to get to the exact spot where he came up, then slowed down and
+trolled over the place. In this instance I felt a light tap on my bait
+and I jumped up quickly, both to look and let him take line. But I did
+not see him or feel him any more. We went on. I saw a flash of bright
+silver back of my brother&#8217;s bait. At the instant he hooked a kingfish.
+And then I felt one cut my bait off. Kingfish are savage strikers and
+they almost invariably hook themselves when the drag is set. But as I
+fish for sailfish with a free-running reel, of course I am exasperated
+when a kingfish takes hold. My brother pulled in this kingfish, which
+was small, and we rebaited our hooks and went on again. I saw more
+turtles, and one we almost ran over, he was so lazy in getting down.
+These big, cumbersome sea animals, once they get headed down and
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span>started, can disappear with remarkable rapidity. I rather enjoy watching
+them, but my boatman, who is a native of these parts and therefore a
+turtle-hunter by instinct, always wore a rather disappointed look when
+we saw one. This was because I would not allow him to harpoon it.</p>
+
+<p><a name="illo30" id="illo30"></a></p><div class="figcenter" style="width: 271px;">
+<img src="images/illus141.jpg" class="jpg ispace" width="271" height="450" alt="TWIN TIGERS OF THE SEA&mdash;THE SAVAGE BARRACUDA" title="" />
+<span class="caption">TWIN TIGERS OF THE SEA&mdash;THE SAVAGE BARRACUDA</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><a name="illo31" id="illo31"></a></p><div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/illus142.jpg" class="ispace" width="500" height="318" alt="HAPPY PASTIME OF BONEFISHING" title="" />
+<span class="caption">HAPPY PASTIME OF BONEFISHING</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>The absence of gulls along this stretch of reef is a feature that struck
+me. So that once in a while when I did see a lonely white gull I watched
+him with pleasure. And once I saw a cero mackerel jump way in along the
+reef, and even at a mile&#8217;s distance I could see the wonderful curve he
+made.</p>
+
+<p>The wind freshened, and all at once it seemed leaping sailfish were all
+around us. Then as we turned the boat this way and that we had thrills
+of anticipation. Suddenly R. C. had a strike. The fish took the bait
+hungrily and sheered off like an arrow and took line rapidly. When R. C.
+hooked him he came up with a big splash and shook himself to free the
+hook. He jumped here and there and then went down deep. And then he took
+a good deal of line off the reel. I was surprised to see a sailfish
+stick his bill out of the water very much closer to the boat than where
+R. C.&#8217;s fish should have been. I had no idea then that this was a fish
+other than the one R. C. had hooked. But when he cut the line either
+with his bill or his tail, and R. C. wound it in, we very soon
+discovered that it was not the fish that he had hooked. This is one of
+the handicaps of light tackle.</p>
+
+<p>We went on fishing. Sailfish would jump around us for a while and then
+they would stop. We would not see one for several minutes. It is always
+very <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span>exciting to be among them this way. Presently I had one take hold
+to run off slowly and steadily, and I let him go for fifty feet, and
+when I struck I tore the hook away from him. Quickly I let slack line
+run back to him ten or fifteen feet at a time, until I felt him take it
+once more. He took it rather suspiciously, I felt, and I honestly
+believe that I could tell that he was mouthing or chewing the bait,
+which made me careful to let the line run off easily to him. Suddenly he
+rushed off, making the reel smoke. I let him run one hundred and fifty
+feet and then stood up, throwing on the drag, and when the line
+straightened tight I tried to jerk at him as hard as the tackle would
+stand. As a matter of fact, however, he was going so fast and hard that
+he hooked himself. It is indeed seldom that I miss one when he runs like
+this. This fellow came up two hundred yards from the boat and slid along
+the water with half of his body raised, much like one of those
+coasting-boards I have seen bathers use, towed behind a motor-launch. He
+went down and came up in a magnificent sheer leap, with his broad sail
+shining in the sun. Very angry he was, and he reminded me of a Marlin
+swordfish. Next he went down, and came up again bent in a curve, with
+the big sail stretched again. He skittered over the water, going down
+and coming up, until he had leaped seven times. This was a big, heavy
+fish, and on the light six-ounce tip and nine-thread line I had my work
+cut out for me. We had to run the boat toward him so I could get back my
+line. Here was the advantage of having a fast boat with a big rudder.
+Otherwise I would have lost my <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span>fish. After some steady deep plugging he
+came up again and set my heart aflutter by a long surface play in which
+he took off one hundred yards of line and then turned, leaping straight
+for the boat. Fortunately the line was slack and I could throw off the
+drag and let him run. Slack line never bothers me when I really get one
+of these fish well hooked. If he is not well hooked he is going to get
+away, anyhow. After that he went down into deep water and I had one long
+hour of hard work in bringing him to the boat. Six hours later he
+weighed fifty-eight and a half pounds, and as he had lost a good deal of
+blood and dried out considerably, he would have gone over sixty pounds,
+which, so far, is the largest sailfish I know of caught on light tackle.</p>
+
+<p>The sailfish were still leaping around us and we started off again. The
+captain called our attention to a tail and a sail a few yards apart not
+far from the boat. We circled around them to drive them down. I saw a
+big wave back of R. C.&#8217;s bait and I yelled, &#8220;Look out!&#8221; I felt something
+hit my bait and then hit it again. I knew it was a sailfish rapping at
+it. I let the line slip off the reel. Just then R. C. had a vicious
+strike and when he hooked the fish the line snapped. He claimed that he
+had jerked too hard. This is the difficulty with light tackle&mdash;to strike
+hard, yet not break anything. I was standing up and leaning forward,
+letting my line slip off the reel, trying to coax that sailfish to come
+back. Something took hold and almost jerked the rod out of my hands.
+That was a magnificent strike, and of course I thought it was one of the
+sailfish. But when I hooked him I had my <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span>doubts. The weight was heavy
+and ponderous and tugging. He went down and down and down. The boatman
+said amberjack. I was afraid so, but I still had my hopes. For a while I
+could not budge him, and at last, when I had given up hope that it was a
+sailfish, I worked a good deal harder than I would have otherwise. It
+took me twenty-five minutes to subdue a forty-pound amberjack. Here was
+proof of what could be done with light tackle.</p>
+
+<p>About ten-thirty of this most delightful and favorable day we ran into a
+school of barracuda. R. C. hooked a small one, which was instantly set
+upon by its voracious comrades and torn to pieces. Then I had a
+tremendous strike, hard, swift, long&mdash;everything to make a tingle of
+nerve and blood. The instant I struck, up out of a flying splash rose a
+long, sharp, silver-flashing tiger of the sea, and if he leaped an inch
+he leaped forty feet. On that light tackle he was a revelation. Five
+times more he leaped, straight up, very high, gills agape, jaws wide,
+body curved&mdash;a sight for any angler. He made long runs and short runs
+and all kinds of runs, and for half an hour he defied any strain I dared
+put on him. Eventually I captured him, and I considered him superior to
+a tarpon of equal or even more weight.</p>
+
+<p>Barracuda are a despised fish, apparently because of their voracious and
+murderous nature. But I incline to the belief that it is because the
+invariable use of heavy tackle has blinded the fishermen to the
+wonderful leaping and fighting qualities of this long-nosed,
+long-toothed sea-tiger. The few of us who have hooked barracuda on light
+tackle know him as <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span>a marvelous performer. Van Campen Heilner wrote
+about a barracuda he caught on a bass rod, and he is not likely to
+forget it, nor will the reader of his story forget it.</p>
+
+<p>R. C. had another strike, hooked his fish, and brought it in readily. It
+was a bonita of about five pounds, the first one my brother had ever
+caught. We were admiring his beautiful, subdued colors as he swam near
+the boat, when up out of the blue depths shot a long gray form as swift
+as lightning. It was a big barracuda. In his rush he cut that bonita in
+two. The captain grasped the line and yelled for us to get the gaffs. R.
+C. dropped the rod and got the small gaff, and as I went for the big one
+I heard them both yell. Then I bent over to see half a dozen big gray
+streaks rush for what was left of that poor little bonita. The big
+barracuda with incredible speed and unbelievable ferocity rushed right
+to the side of the boat at the bonita. He got hold of it and R. C. in
+striking at him to gaff him hit him over the head several times. Then
+the gaff hook caught him and R. C. began to lift. The barracuda looked
+to me to be fully seven feet long and half as big around as a telegraph
+pole. He made a tremendous splash in the water. R. C. was deluged. He
+and the boatman yelled in their excitement. But R. C. was unable to hold
+the big fish on this small gaff, and I got there too late. The barracuda
+broke loose. Then, equally incredibly, he turned with still greater
+ferocity and rushed the bonita again, but before he could get to it
+another and smaller barracuda had hold of it. At this instant I leaned
+over with a club. With one powerful <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span>sweep I hit one of the barracuda on
+the head. When I reached over again the largest one was contending with
+a smaller one for the remains of the bonita. I made a vicious pass at
+the big one, missing him. Quick as I was, before I could get back, the
+big fellow had taken the head of the bonita and rushed off with it,
+tearing the line out of the captain&#8217;s hands. Then we looked at one
+another. It had all happened in a minute. We were all wringing wet and
+panting from excitement and exertion. This is a gruesome tale of the sea
+and I put it here only to illustrate the incomparable savageness of
+these tigers of the Gulf Stream.</p>
+
+<p>The captain put the fish away and cleaned up the boat and we resumed
+fishing. I ate lunch holding the rod in one hand, loath to waste any
+time on this wonderful day. Sailfish were still jumping here and there
+and far away. The next thing to happen was that R. C. hooked a small
+kingfish, and at the same instant a big one came clear out in an
+unsuccessful effort to get my bait. This happened to be near the reef,
+and as we were going out I hooked a big grouper that tried out my small
+tackle for all it was worth. But I managed to keep him from getting on
+the bottom, and at length brought him in. The little six-ounce tip now
+looked like a buggy-whip that was old and worn out. After that nothing
+happened for quite a little spell. We had opportunity to get rested.
+Presently R. C. had a sailfish tap his bait and tap it again and tug at
+it and then take hold and start away. R. C. hooked him and did it
+carefully, trying not to put too much strain on the line. Here is where
+great skill is required. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span>But the line broke. After that he took one of
+my other tackles. Something went wrong with the engine and the captain
+had to shut down and we drifted. I had a long line out and it gradually
+sank. Something took hold and I hooked it and found myself fast to a
+deep-sea, hard-fighting fish of some kind. I got him up eventually, and
+was surprised to see a great, broad, red-colored fish, which turned out
+to be a mutton-fish, much prized for food. I had now gotten six
+varieties of fish in the Gulf Stream and we were wondering what next. I
+was hoping it would be a dolphin or a waahoo. It happened, however, to be
+a beautiful cero mackerel, one of the shapeliest and most attractive
+fish in these waters. He is built something like the brook-trout, except
+for a much sharper head and wider fins and tail. But he is speckled very
+much after the manner of the trout. We trolled on, and all of a sudden
+raised a school of sailfish. They came up with a splashing rush very
+thrilling to see. One hit R. C.&#8217;s bait hard, and then another, by way of
+contrast, began to tug and chew at mine. I let the line out slowly. And
+as I did so I saw another one follow R. C.&#8217;s mutilated bait which he was
+bringing toward the boat. He was a big purple-and-bronze fellow and he
+would have taken a whole bait if it could have been gotten to him. But
+he sheered away, frightened by the boat. I failed to hook my fish. It
+was getting along pretty well into the afternoon by this time and the
+later it got the better the small fish and kingfish seemed to bite. I
+caught one barracuda and six kingfish, while R. C. was performing a
+somewhat similar feat. Then he got a smashing <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span>strike from a sailfish
+that went off on a hard, fast rush, so that he hooked it perfectly. He
+jumped nine times, several of which leaps I photographed. He was a
+good-sized fish and active and strong. R. C. had him up to the boat in
+thirty minutes, which was fine work for the light tackle. I made sure
+that the fish was as good as caught and I did not look to see where he
+was hooked. My boatman is not skilled in the handling of the fish when
+they are brought in. Few boatmen are. He took hold of the leader, and as
+he began to lift I saw that the hook was fast in the bill of the
+sailfish fully six inches from his mouth. At that instant the sailfish
+began to thresh. I yelled to the boatman to let go, but either I was not
+quick enough or he did not obey, for the hook snapped free and the
+sailfish slowly swam away, his great purple-and-blue spotted sail waving
+in the water, and his bronze sides shining. And we were both glad that
+he had gotten away, because we had had the fun out of him and had taken
+pictures of him jumping, and he was now alive and might make another
+fisherman sport some day.</p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="VII" id="VII"></a>VII</h2>
+
+<h3>BONEFISH</h3>
+
+<p>In my experience as a fisherman the greatest pleasure has been the
+certainty of something new to learn, to feel, to anticipate, to thrill
+over. An old proverb tells us that if you wish to bring back the wealth
+of the Indias you must go out with its equivalent. Surely the longer a
+man fishes the wealthier he becomes in experience, in reminiscence, in
+love of nature, if he goes out with the harvest of a quiet eye, free
+from the plague of himself.</p>
+
+<p>As a boy, fishing was a passion with me, but no more for the conquest of
+golden sunfish and speckled chubs and horny catfish than for the
+haunting sound of the waterfall and the color and loneliness of the
+cliffs. As a man, and a writer who is forever learning, fishing is still
+a passion, stronger with all the years, but tempered by an understanding
+of the nature of primitive man, hidden in all of us, and by a keen
+reluctance to deal pain to any creature. The sea and the river and the
+mountain have almost taught me not to kill except for the urgent needs
+of life; and the time will come when I shall have grown up to that. When
+I read a naturalist or a biologist I am always ashamed of what I have
+called a sport. Yet one of the truths of evolution is that <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span>not to
+practise strife, not to use violence, not to fish or hunt&mdash;that is to
+say, not to fight&mdash;is to retrograde as a natural man. Spiritual and
+intellectual growth is attained at the expense of the physical.</p>
+
+<p>Always, then, when I am fishing I feel that the fish are incidental, and
+that the reward of effort and endurance, the incalculable and intangible
+knowledge emanate from the swelling and infinite sea or from the shaded
+and murmuring stream. Thus I assuage my conscience and justify the fun,
+the joy, the excitement, and the violence.</p>
+
+<p>Five years ago I had never heard of a bonefish. The first man who ever
+spoke to me about this species said to me, very quietly with serious
+intentness: &#8220;Have you had any experience with bonefish?&#8221; I said no, and
+asked him what kind that was. His reply was enigmatical. &#8220;Well, don&#8217;t go
+after bonefish unless you can give up all other fishing.&#8221; I remember I
+laughed. But I never forgot that remark, and now it comes back to me
+clear in its significance. That fisherman read me as well as I
+misunderstood him.</p>
+
+<p>Later that season I listened to talk of inexperienced bonefishermen
+telling what they had done and heard. To me it was absurd. So much
+fishing talk seems ridiculous, anyway. And the expert fishermen,
+wherever they were, received the expressive titles: &#8220;Bonefish Bugs and
+Bonefish Nuts!&#8221; Again I heard arguments about tackle rigged for these
+mysterious fish and these arguments fixed my vague impression. By and by
+some bonefishermen came to Long Key, and the first sight of a bonefish
+made me curious. I think it weighed five pounds&mdash;a fair-sized <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span>specimen.
+Even to my prejudiced eye that fish showed class. So I began to question
+the bonefishermen.</p>
+
+<p>At once I found this type of angler to be remarkably reticent as to
+experience and method. Moreover, the tackle used was amazing to me.
+Stiff rods and heavy lines for little fish! I gathered another
+impression, and it was that bonefish were related to dynamite and chain
+lightning. Everybody who would listen to my questions had different
+things to say. No two men agreed on tackle or bait or ground or
+anything. I enlisted the interest of my brother R. C., and we decided,
+just to satisfy curiosity, to go out and catch some bonefish. The
+complacent, smug conceit of fishermen! I can see now how funny ours was.
+Fortunately it is now past tense. If I am ever conceited again I hope no
+one will read my stories.</p>
+
+<p>My brother and I could not bring ourselves to try for bonefish with
+heavy tackle. It was preposterous. Three&mdash;four&mdash;five-pound fish! We had
+seen no larger. Bass tackle was certainly heavy enough for us. So in the
+innocence of our hearts and the assurance of our vanity we sallied forth
+to catch bonefish.</p>
+
+<p>That was four years ago. Did we have good luck? No! Luck has nothing to
+do with bonefishing. What happened? For one solid month each winter of
+those four years we had devoted ourselves to bonefishing with light
+tackle. We stuck to our colors. The space of this whole volume would not
+be half enough to tell our experience&mdash;the amaze, the difficulty, the
+perseverance, the defeat, the wonder, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span>and at last the achievement. The
+season of 1918 we hooked about fifty bonefish on three-six tackles&mdash;that
+is, three-ounce tips and six-thread lines&mdash;and we landed fourteen of
+them. I caught nine and R. C. caught five. R. C.&#8217;s eight-pound fish
+justified our contention and crowned our efforts.</p>
+
+<p>To date, in all my experience, I consider this bonefish achievement the
+most thrilling, fascinating, difficult, and instructive. That is a broad
+statement and I hope I can prove it. I am prepared to state that I feel
+almost certain, if I spent another month bonefishing, I would become
+obsessed and perhaps lose my enthusiasm for other kinds of fish.</p>
+
+<p>Why?</p>
+
+<p>There is a multiplicity of reasons. My reasons range from the
+exceedingly graceful beauty of a bonefish to the fact that he is the
+best food fish I ever ate. That is a wide range. He is the wisest,
+shyest, wariest, strangest fish I ever studied; and I am not excepting
+the great <i>Xiphias gladius</i>&mdash;the broadbill swordfish. As for the speed
+of a bonefish, I claim no salmon, no barracuda, no other fish celebrated
+for swiftness of motion, is in his class. A bonefish is so incredibly
+fast that it was a long time before I could believe the evidence of my
+own eyes. You see him; he is there perfectly still in the clear, shallow
+water, a creature of fish shape, pale green and silver, but
+crystal-like, a phantom shape, staring at you with strange black eyes;
+then he is gone. Vanished! Absolutely without your seeing a movement,
+even a faint streak! By peering keenly you may discern a little swirl in
+the water. As for the strength of a bonefish, I actually hesitate to
+give my impressions. No one will ever believe how powerful a bonefish is until
+he has tried to stop the rush and heard the line snap. As for his
+cunning, it is utterly baffling. As for his biting, it is almost
+imperceptible. As for his tactics, they are beyond conjecture.</p>
+
+<div class="centerbox3 bbox">
+<p><a name="illo32" id="illo32"></a></p><div class="figleft" style="width: 238px;">
+<img src="images/illus155l.jpg" class="jpg ispace" width="238" height="312" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<div class="figright" style="width: 239px;">
+<img src="images/illus155r.jpg" class="jpg ispace" width="239" height="312" alt="" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="caption">THE GAMEST FISH THAT SWIMS</span></p></div>
+
+<p><a name="illo33" id="illo33"></a></p><div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/illus156.jpg" class="jpg ispace" width="500" height="298" alt="A WAAHOO" title="" />
+<span class="caption">A WAAHOO</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span>I want to append here a few passages from my note-books, in the hope
+that a bare, bald statement of fact will help my argument.</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p>First experience on a bonefish shoal. This wide area of coral mud was
+dry at low tide. When we arrived the tide was rising. Water scarcely a
+foot deep, very clear. Bottom white, with patches of brown grass. We saw
+bonefish everywhere and expected great sport. But no matter where we
+stopped we could not get any bites. Schools of bonefish swam up to the
+boat, only to dart away. Everywhere we saw thin white tails sticking
+out, as they swam along, feeding with noses in the mud. When we drew in
+our baits we invariably found them half gone, and it was our assumption
+that the blue crabs did this.</p>
+
+<p>At sunset the wind quieted. It grew very still and beautiful. The water
+was rosy. Here and there we saw swirls and tails standing out, and we
+heard heavy thumps of plunging fish. But we could not get any bites.</p>
+
+<p>When we returned to camp we were told that the half of our soldier-crab
+baits had been sucked off by bonefish. Did not believe that.</p>
+
+<p>Tide bothered us again this morning. It seems exceedingly difficult to
+tell one night before what the tide is going to do the next morning. At
+ten <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span>o&#8217;clock we walked to the same place we were yesterday. It was a
+bright, warm day, with just enough breeze to ruffle the water and make
+fishing pleasant, and we certainly expected to have good luck. But we
+fished for about three hours without any sign of a fish. This was
+discouraging and we could not account for it.</p>
+
+<p>So we moved. About half a mile down the beach I thought I caught a
+glimpse of a bonefish. It was a likely-looking contrast to the white
+marl all around. Here I made a long cast and sat down to wait. My
+brother lagged behind. Presently I spied two bonefish nosing along not
+ten feet from the shore. They saw me, so I made no attempt to drag the
+bait near them, but I called to my brother and told him to try to get a
+bait ahead of them. This was a little after flood-tide. It struck me
+then that these singular fish feed up the beach with one tide and down
+with another.</p>
+
+<p>Just when my brother reached me I got a nibble. I called to him and then
+stood up, ready to strike. I caught a glimpse of the fish. He looked big
+and dark. He had his nose down, fooling with my bait. When I struck him
+he felt heavy. I put on the click of the reel, and when the bonefish
+started off he pulled the rod down hard, taking the line fast. He made
+one swirl on the surface and then started up-shore. He seemed
+exceedingly swift. I ran along the beach until presently the line
+slackened and I felt that the hook had torn out. This was
+disappointment. I could not figure that I had done anything wrong, but I
+decided in the future to use a smaller and sharper hook. We went on down
+the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span>beach, seeing several bonefish on the way, and finally we ran into
+a big school of them. They were right alongshore, but when they saw us
+we could not induce them to bite.</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p>Every day we learn something. It is necessary to keep out of sight of
+these fish. After they bite, everything depends upon the skilful hooking
+of the fish. Probably it will require a good deal of skill to land them
+after you have hooked them, but we have had little experience at that so
+far. When these fish are along the shore they certainly are feeding, and
+presumably they are feeding on crabs of some sort. Bonefish appear to be
+game worthy of any fisherman&#8217;s best efforts.</p>
+
+<p>It was a still, hot day, without any clouds. We went up the beach to a
+point opposite an old construction camp. To-day when we expected the
+tide to be doing one thing it was doing another. Ebb and flow and
+flood-tide have become as difficult as Sanskrit synonyms for me. My
+brother took an easy and comfortable chair and sat up the beach, and I,
+like an ambitious fisherman, laboriously and adventurously waded out one
+hundred and fifty feet to an old platform that had been erected there. I
+climbed upon this, and found it a very precarious place to sit. Come to
+think about it, there is something very remarkable about the places a
+fisherman will pick out to sit down on. This place was a two-by-four
+plank full of nails, and I cheerfully availed myself of it and, casting
+my bait out as far as I could, I calmly sat down to wait for a bonefish.
+It has become a settled conviction in my mind that <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span>you have to wait for
+bonefish. But all at once I got a hard bite. It quite excited me. I
+jerked and pulled the bait away from the fish and he followed it and
+took it again. I saw this fish and several others in the white patch of
+ground where there were not any weeds. But in my excitement I did not
+have out a long enough line, and when I jerked the fish turned over and
+got away. This was all right, but the next two hours sitting in the sun
+on that seat with a nail sticking into me were not altogether
+pleasurable. When I thought I had endured it as long as I could I saw a
+flock of seven bonefish swimming past me, and one of them was a whopper.
+The sight revived me. I hardly breathed while that bunch of fish swam
+right for my bait, and for all I could see they did not know it was
+there. I waited another long time. The sun was hot&mdash;there was no
+breeze&mdash;the heat was reflected from the water. I could have stood all
+this well enough, but I could not stand the nails. So I climbed down off
+my perch, having forgotten that all this time the tide had been rising.
+And as I could not climb back I had to get wet, to the infinite
+amusement of my brother. After that I fished from the shore.</p>
+
+<p>Presently my brother shouted and I looked up to see him pulling on a
+fish. There was a big splash in the water and then I saw his line
+running out. The fish was heading straight for the framework on which I
+had been seated and I knew if he ever did get there he would break the
+line. All of a sudden I saw the fish he had hooked. And he reached the
+framework all right!</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span>I had one more strike this day, but did not hook the fish. It seems this
+bonefishing takes infinite patience. For all we can tell, these fish
+come swimming along with the rising tide close in to shore and they are
+exceedingly shy and wary. My brother now has caught two small bonefish
+and each of them gave a good strong bite, at once starting off with the
+bait. We had been under the impression that it was almost impossible to
+feel the bonefish bite. It will take work to learn this game.</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p>Yesterday we went up on the north side of the island to the place near
+the mangroves where we had seen some bonefish. Arriving there, we found
+the tide almost flood, with the water perfectly smooth and very clear
+and about a foot deep up at the mangrove roots. Here and there at a
+little distance we could see splashes. We separated, and I took the
+outside, while R. C. took the inside close to the mangroves. We waded
+along. Before I had time to make a cast I saw a three-pound bonefish
+come sneaking along, and when he saw me he darted away like an arrow. I
+made a long cast and composed myself to wait. Presently a yell from R.
+C. electrified me with the hope that he had hooked a fish. But it turned
+out that he had only seen one. He moved forward very cautiously in the
+water and presently made a cast. He then said that a big bonefish was
+right near his hook, and during the next few minutes this fish circled
+his bait twice, crossing his line. Then he counted out loud: one, two,
+three, four, five bonefish right in front of him, one of which was a
+whopper. I stood <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span>up myself and saw one over to my right, of about five
+pounds, sneaking along with his nose to the bottom. When I made a cast
+over in his direction he disappeared as suddenly as if he had dissolved
+in the water. Looking out to my left, I saw half a dozen bonefish
+swimming toward me, and they came quite close. When I moved they
+vanished. Then I made a cast over in this direction. The bonefish came
+back and swam all around my bait, apparently not noticing it. They were
+on the feed, and the reason they did not take our bait must have been
+that they saw us. We fished there for an hour without having a sign of a
+bite, and then we gave it up.</p>
+
+<p>To-day about flood-tide I had a little strike. I jerked hard, but failed
+to see the fish, and then when I reeled in I found he still had hold of
+it. Then I struck him, and in one little jerk he broke the leader.</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p>I just had a talk with a fellow who claims to know a good deal about
+bonefishing. He said he had caught a good many ranging up to eight
+pounds. His claim was that soldier crabs were the best bait. He said he
+had fished with professional boatmen who knew the game thoroughly. They
+would pole the skiff alongshore and keep a sharp lookout for what he
+called bonefish mud. And I assume that he meant muddy places in the
+water that had been stirred up by bonefish. Of course, any place where
+these little swirls could be seen was very likely to be a bonefish bank.
+He claimed that it was necessary to hold the line near the reel between
+the forefingers, and to feel for the very slightest vibration. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span>Bonefish
+have a sucker-like mouth. They draw the bait in, and smash it.
+Sometimes, of course, they move away, drawing out the line, but that
+kind of a bite is exceptional. It is imperative to strike the fish when
+this vibration is felt. Not one in five bonefish is hooked.</p>
+
+<p>We have had two northers and the water grew so cold that it drove the
+fish out. The last two or three days have been warm and to-day it was
+hot. However, I did not expect the bonefish in yet, and when we went in
+bathing at flood-tide I was very glad to see two fish. I hurried out and
+got my rod and began to try. Presently I had a little strike. I waited
+and it was repeated; then I jerked and felt the fish. He made a wave and
+that was the last I knew of him.</p>
+
+<p>Reeling in, I looked at my bait, to find that it had been pretty badly
+chewed, but I fastened it on again and made another cast. I set down the
+rod. Then I went back after the bucket for the rest of the bait. Upon my
+return I saw the line jerking and I ran to the rod. I saw a little
+splash, and a big white tail of a bonefish stick out of the water. I put
+my thumb on the reel and jerked hard. Instantly I felt the fish, heavy
+and powerful. He made a surge and then ran straight out. The line burned
+my thumb so I could not hold it. I put on the click and the fish made a
+swifter, harder run for at least a hundred yards, and he tore the hook
+out.</p>
+
+<p>This makes a number of fish that have gotten away from me in this
+manner. It is exasperating and difficult to explain. I have to use a
+pretty heavy sinker in order to cast the bait out. I have <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span>arranged this
+sinker, which has a hole through it, so that the line will run freely.
+This seems to work all right on the bite, but I am afraid it does not
+work after the fish is hooked. That sinker drags on the bottom. This is
+the best rigging that I can plan at the present stage of the game. I
+have an idea now that a bonefish should be hooked hard and then very
+carefully handled.</p>
+
+<p>I fished off the beach awhile in front of the cabin. We used both kinds
+of crabs, soldier and hermit. I fished two hours and a half, from the
+late rising tide to the first of the ebb, without a sign or sight of a
+fish. R. C. finally got tired and set his rod and went in bathing. Then
+it happened. I heard his reel singing and saw his rod nodding; then I
+made a dash for it. The fish was running straight out, heavy and fast,
+and he broke the line.</p>
+
+<p>This may have been caused by the heavy sinker catching in the weeds. We
+must do more planning to get a suitable rig for these bonefish.</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p>Day before yesterday R. C. and I went up to the Long Key point, and
+rowed in on the mangrove shoal where once before I saw so many bonefish.
+The tide was about one-quarter in, and there was a foot of water all
+over the flats. We anchored at the outer edge and began to fish. We had
+made elaborate preparations in the way of tackle, bait, canoe, etc., and
+it really would have been remarkable if we had had any luck. After a
+little while I distinctly felt something at my hook, and upon jerking I
+had one splendid surge out of a good, heavy bonefish. That was all that
+happened in that place.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span>It was near flood-tide when we went back. I stood up and kept a keen
+watch for little muddy places in the water, also bonefish. At last I saw
+several fish, and there we anchored. I fished on one side of the boat,
+and R. C. on the other. On two different occasions, feeling a nibble on
+his line, he jerked, all to no avail. The third time he yelled as he
+struck, and I turned in time to see the white thresh of a bonefish. He
+made a quick dash off to the side and then came in close to the boat,
+swimming around with short runs two or three times, and then, apparently
+tired, he came close. I made ready to lift him into the boat, when, lo
+and behold! he made a wonderful run of fully three hundred feet before
+R. C. could stop him. Finally he was led to the boat, and turned out to
+be a fish of three and a half pounds. It simply made R. C. and me gasp
+to speak of what a really large bonefish might be able to do. There is
+something irresistible about the pursuit of these fish, and perhaps this
+is it. We changed places, and as a last try anchored in deeper water,
+fishing as before. This time I had a distinct tug at my line and I
+hooked a fish. He wiggled and jerked and threshed around so that I told
+R. C. that it was not a bonefish, but R. C. contended it was. Anyway, he
+came toward the boat rather easily until we saw him and he saw us, and
+then he made a dash similar to that of R. C.&#8217;s fish and he tore out the
+hook. This was the extent of our adventure that day, and we were very
+much pleased.</p>
+
+<p>Next morning we started out with a high northeast trade-wind blowing.
+Nothing could dampen our ardor.</p>
+
+<p>It was blowing so hard up at No. 2 viaduct that <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span>we decided to stay
+inside. There is a big flat there cut up by channels, and it is said to
+be a fine ground for bonefish. The tide was right and the water was
+clear, but even in the lee of the bank the wind blew pretty hard. We
+anchored in about three feet of water and began to fish.</p>
+
+<p>After a while we moved. The water was about a foot deep, and the bottom
+clean white marl, with little patches of vegetation. Crabs and
+crab-holes were numerous. I saw a small shark and a couple of rays. When
+we got to the middle of a big flat I saw the big, white, glistening
+tails of bonefish sticking out of the water. We dropped anchor and, much
+excited, were about to make casts, when R. C. lost his hat. He swore. We
+had to pull up anchor and go get the hat. Unfortunately this scared the
+fish. Also it presaged a rather hard-luck afternoon. In fishing, as in
+many other things, if the beginning is tragedy all will be tragedy,
+growing worse all the time. We moved around up above where I had seen
+these bonefish, and there we dropped anchor. No sooner had we gotten our
+baits overboard than we began to see bonefish tails off at quite some
+distance. The thing to do, of course, was to sit right there and be
+patient, but this was almost impossible for us. We moved again and
+again, but we did not get any nearer to the fish. Finally I determined
+that we would stick in one place. This we did, and the bonefish began to
+come around. When they would swim close to the boat and see us they
+would give a tremendous surge and disappear, as if by magic. But they
+always left a muddy place in the water. The speed of these fish <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span>is
+beyond belief. I could not cast where I wanted to; I tried again and
+again. When I did get my bait off at a reasonable distance, I could feel
+crabs nibbling at it. These pests robbed us of many a good bait. One of
+them cut my line right in two. They seemed to be very plentiful, and
+that must be why the bonefish were plentiful, too. R. C. kept losing
+bait after bait, which he claimed was the work of crabs, but I rather
+believed it to be the work of bonefish. It was too windy for us to tell
+anything about the pressure of the line. It had to be quite a strong tug
+to be felt at all. Presently I felt one, and instead of striking at once
+I waited to see what would happen. After a while I reeled in to find my
+bait gone. Then I was consoled by the proof that a bonefish had taken
+the bait off for me. Another time three bonefish came along for my bait
+and stuck their tails up out of the water, and were evidently nosing
+around it, but I felt absolutely nothing on the line. When I reeled in
+the bait was gone.</p>
+
+<p>We kept up this sort of thing for two hours. I knew that we were doing
+it wrong. R. C. said bad conditions, but I claimed that these were only
+partly responsible for our failure. I knew that we moved about too much,
+that we did not cast far enough and wait long enough, and that by all
+means we should not have cracked bait on the bottom of the boat, and
+particularly we did not know when we had a bite! But it is one thing to
+be sure of a fact and another to be able to practise it. At last we gave
+up in despair, and upon paddling back toward the launch we saw a school
+of bonefish with their tails in the air. We followed them around for a
+while, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span>apparently very much to their amusement. At sunset we got back
+to the launch and started for camp.</p>
+
+<p>This was a long, hard afternoon&#8217;s work for nothing. However, it is my
+idea that experience is never too dearly bought. I will never do some
+things again, and the harder these fish are to catch, the more time and
+effort it takes&mdash;the more intelligence and cunning&mdash;all the more will I
+appreciate success if it ever does come. It is in the attainment of
+difficult tasks that we earn our reward. There are several old bonefish
+experts here in camp, and they laughed when I related some of our
+experiences. Bonefishermen are loath to tell anything about their
+methods. This must be a growth of the difficult game. I had an expert
+bonefisherman tell me that when he was surprised while fishing on one of
+the shoals, he always dropped his rod and pretended to be digging for
+shells. And it is a fact that the bonefish guides at Metacumbe did not
+let any one get a line on their methods. They will avoid a
+bonefishing-ground while others are there, and if they are surprised
+there ahead of others, they will pull up anchor and go away. May I be
+preserved from any such personal selfishness and reticence as this! One
+of these bonefish experts at the camp told me that in all his years of
+experience he had never gotten a bonefish bite. If you feel a tug, it is
+when the bonefish is ejecting the hook. Then it is too late. The
+bonefish noses around the bait and sucks it in without any apparent
+movement of the line. And that can be detected first by a little sagging
+of the line or by a little strain upon it. That is the time to strike.
+He also said that he always broke <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span>his soldier crabs on a piece of lead
+to prevent the jar from frightening the fish.</p>
+
+<p>Doctor B. tells a couple of interesting experiences with bonefish. On
+one occasion he was fishing near another boat in which was a friend. The
+water was very clear and still, and he could see his friend&#8217;s bait lying
+upon the sand. An enormous bonefish swam up and took the bait, and
+Doctor B. was so thrilled and excited that he could not yell. When the
+man hooked the fish it shot off in a straightaway rush, raising a ridge
+upon the water. It ran the length of the line and freed itself. Later
+Doctor B.&#8217;s friend showed the hook, that had been straightened out. They
+measured the line and found it to be five hundred and fifty-five feet.
+The bonefish had gone the length of this in one run, and they estimated
+that he would have weighed not less than fifteen pounds.</p>
+
+<p>On another occasion Dr. B. saw a heavy bonefish hooked. It ran
+straight off shore, and turning, ran in with such speed that it came
+shooting out upon dry land and was easily captured. These two instances
+are cases in point of the incredible speed and strength of this strange
+fish.</p>
+
+<p>R. C. had a splendid fight with a bonefish to-day. The wind was blowing
+hard and the canoe was not easy to fish out of. We had great difficulty
+in telling when we did have a bite. I had one that I know of. When R. C.
+hooked his fish it sheered off between the canoe and the beach and ran
+up-shore quite a long way. Then it headed out to sea and made a long
+run, and then circled. It made short, quick surges, each time jerking R.
+C.&#8217;s rod down and pulling the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span>reel handle out of his fingers. He had to
+put on a glove. We were both excited and thrilled with the gameness of
+this fish. It circled the canoe three times, and tired out very slowly.
+When he got it close the very thing happened that I feared. It darted
+under the anchor rope and we lost it. This battle lasted about fifteen
+minutes, and afforded us an actual instance of the wonderful qualities
+of this fish.</p>
+
+<p>Yesterday R. C. hooked a bonefish that made a tremendous rush straight
+offshore, and never stopped until he had pulled out the hook. This must
+have been a very heavy and powerful fish.</p>
+
+<p>I had my taste of the same dose to-day. I felt a tiny little tug upon my
+line that electrified me and I jerked as hard as I dared. I realized
+that I had hooked some kind of fish, but, as it was wiggling and did not
+feel heavy, I concluded that I had hooked one of those pesky blowfish.
+But all of a sudden my line cut through the water and fairly whistled. I
+wound in the slack and then felt a heavy fish. He made a short plunge
+and then a longer one, straight out, making my reel scream. I was afraid
+to thumb the line, so I let him go. With these jerky plunges he ran
+about three hundred feet. Then I felt my line get fast, and, handing my
+rod to R. C., I slipped off my shoes and went overboard. I waded out,
+winding as I went, to find that the bonefish had fouled the line on a
+sponge on the bottom, and he had broken free just above the hook.</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p>Yesterday the fag end of the northeast gale still held on, but we
+decided to try for bonefish. Low tide at two o&#8217;clock.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span>I waded up-shore with the canoe, and R. C. walked. It was a hard job to
+face the wind and waves and pull the canoe. It made me tired and wet.</p>
+
+<p>When we got above the old camp the tide had started in. We saw bonefish
+tails standing up out of the water. Hurriedly baiting our hooks, we
+waded to get ahead of them. But we could not catch them wading, so went
+back to the canoe and paddled swiftly ahead, anchored, and got out to
+wade once more.</p>
+
+<p>R. C. was above me. We saw the big tail of one bonefish and both of us
+waded to get ahead of him. At last I made a cast, but did not see him
+any more. The wind was across my line, making a big curve in it, and I
+was afraid I could not tell a bite if I had one. Was about to reel in
+when I felt the faint tug. I swept my rod up and back, hard as I dared.
+The line came tight, I felt a heavy weight; a quiver, and then my rod
+was pulled down. I had hooked him. The thrill was remarkable. He took a
+short dash, then turned. I thought I had lost him. But he was running
+in. Frantically I wound the reel, but could not get in the slack. I saw
+my line coming, heard it hiss in the water, then made out the dark shape
+of a bonefish. He ran right at me&mdash;almost hit my feet. When he saw me he
+darted off with incredible speed, making my reel scream. I feared the
+strain on the line, and I plunged through the water as fast as I could
+after him. He ran four hundred feet in that dash, and I ran fifty. Not
+often have I of late years tingled and thrilled and panted with such
+excitement. It was great. It brought back the days of boyhood. When he
+stopped that run I was tired and thoroughly wet. He sheered off as <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span>I
+waded and wound in. I got him back near me. He shot off in a shoal place
+of white mud where I saw him plainly, and he scared a school of bonefish
+that split and ran every way. My fish took to making short circles; I
+could not keep a tight line. Lost! I wound in fast, felt him again, then
+absolutely lost feel of him or sight of him. Lost again! My sensations
+were remarkable, considering it was only a fish of arm&#8217;s-length at the
+end of the line. But these bonefish rouse an angler as no other fish
+can. All at once I felt the line come tight. He was still on, now
+running inshore.</p>
+
+<p>The water was about a foot deep. I saw the bulge, or narrow wave, he
+made. He ran out a hundred feet, and had me dashing after him again. I
+could not trust that light line at the speed he swam, so I ran to
+release the strain. He led me inshore, then up-shore, and out toward sea
+again, all the time fighting with a couple of hundred feet of line out.
+Occasionally he would make a solid, thumping splash. He worked offshore
+some two hundred yards, where be led me in water half to my hips. I had
+to try to stop him here, and with fear and trepidation I thumbed the
+reel. The first pressure brought a savage rush, but it was short. He
+turned, and I wound him back and waded inshore.</p>
+
+<p>From that moment I had him beaten, although I was afraid of his short
+thumps as he headed away and tugged. Finally I had him within twenty
+feet circling around me, tired and loggy, yet still strong enough to
+require careful handling.</p>
+
+<p>He looked short and heavy, pale checked green and silver; and his
+staring black eye, set forward in <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span>his pointed white nose, could be
+plainly seen. This fish made a rare picture for an angler.</p>
+
+<p>So I led him to the canoe and, ascertaining that I had him well hooked,
+I lifted him in.</p>
+
+<p>Never have I seen so beautiful a fish. A golden trout, a white sea-bass,
+a dolphin, all are beautiful, but not so exquisite as this bonefish. He
+seemed all bars of dazzling silver. His tail had a blue margin and
+streaks of lilac. His lower (anal) fins were blazing with opal fire, and
+the pectoral fins were crystal white. His eye was a dead, piercing
+black, staring and deep. We estimated his weight. I held for six pounds,
+but R. C. shook his head. He did not believe that. But we agreed on the
+magnificent fight he had made.</p>
+
+<p>Then we waded up-shore farther and began to fish. In just five minutes I
+had the same kind of strike, slight, almost imperceptible, vibrating,
+and I hooked a fish exactly as I had the first one. He was light of
+weight, but swift as a flash. I played him from where I stood. This time
+I essayed with all skill to keep a taut line. It was impossible. Now I
+felt his weight and again only a slack line. This fish, too, ran right
+to my feet, then in a boiling splash sheered away. But he could not go
+far. I reeled him back and led him to the canoe. He was small, and the
+smallness of him was such a surprise in contrast to what his fight had
+led me to imagine he was.</p>
+
+<p>R. C. had one strike and broke his line on the jerk. We had to give up
+on account of sunset at hand.</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p>There was another hard thunder-storm last night. The last few days have
+begun the vernal equinox. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span>It rained torrents all night and stopped at
+dawn. The wind was northeast and cool. Cloudy overhead, with purple
+horizon all around&mdash;a forbidding day. But we decided to go fishing,
+anyhow. We had new, delicate three-six tackles to try. About seven the
+wind died away. There was a dead calm, and the sun tried to show. Then
+another breeze came out of the east.</p>
+
+<p>We went up on the inside after bait, and had the luck to find some.
+Crossing the island, we came out at the old construction camp where we
+had left the canoe. By this time a stiff breeze was blowing and the tide
+was rising fast. We had our troubles paddling and poling up to the grove
+of cocoanuts. Opposite this we anchored and began to fish.</p>
+
+<p>Conditions were not favorable. The water was choppy and roily, the canoe
+bobbed a good deal, the anchors dragged, and we did not see any fish.
+All the same, we persevered. At length I had a bite, but pulled too
+late. We tried again for a while, only to be disappointed. Then we
+moved.</p>
+
+<p>We had to put the stern anchor down first and let it drag till it held
+and the canoe drifted around away from the wind, then we dropped the bow
+anchor. After a time I had a faint feeling at the end of my line&mdash;an
+indescribable feeling. I jerked and hooked a bonefish. He did not feel
+heavy. He ran off, and the wind bagged my line and the waves also helped
+to pull out the hook.</p>
+
+<p>Following that we changed places several times, in one of which R. C.
+had a strike, but failed to hook the fish. Just opposite the old wreck
+on the shore I had another fish take hold, and, upon hooking him, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span>had
+precisely the same thing happen as in the first instance. I think the
+bag of my line, which I could not avoid, allowed the lead to sag down
+and drag upon the bottom. Of course when it caught the bonefish pulled
+free.</p>
+
+<p>In some places we found the water clearer than in others. Flood-tide had
+long come when we anchored opposite the old camp. R. C. cast out upon a
+brown patch of weeds where we have caught some fine fish, and I cast
+below. Perhaps in five minutes or less R. C. swept up his rod. I saw it
+bend forward, down toward the water. He had hooked a heavy fish. The
+line hissed away to the right, and almost at once picked up a good-sized
+piece of seaweed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s a big fish!&#8221; I exclaimed, excitedly. &#8220;Look at him go!... That
+seaweed will make you lose him. Let me wade out and pull it off?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No! Let&#8217;s take a chance.... Too late, anyhow! Gee! He&#8217;s going!... He&#8217;s
+got two hundred yards out!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Two-thirds of the line was off the reel, and the piece of seaweed seemed
+to be a drag on the fish. He slowed up. The line was tight, the rod
+bent. Suddenly the tip sprang back. We had seen that often before.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Gone!&#8221; said R. C., dejectedly.</p>
+
+<p>But I was not so sure of that, although I was hopeless. R. C. wound in,
+finding the line came slowly, as if weighted. I watched closely. We
+thought that was on account of the seaweed. But suddenly the reel began
+to screech.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve got him yet!&#8221; yelled R. C., with joy.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span>I was overjoyed, too, but I contained myself, for I expected dire
+results from that run.</p>
+
+<p>Zee! Zee! Zee! went the reel, and the rod nodded in time.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We must get rid of that seaweed or lose him.... Pull up your anchor
+with one hand.... Careful now.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He did so, and quickly I got mine up. What ticklish business!</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Keep a tight line!&#8221; I cautioned, as I backed the canoe hard with all my
+power. It was not easy to go backward and keep head on to the wind. The
+waves broke over the end of the canoe, splashing me in the face so I
+could taste and smell the salt. I made half a dozen shoves with the
+paddle. Then, nearing the piece of seaweed, I dropped my anchor.</p>
+
+<p>In a flash I got that dangerous piece of seaweed off R. C.&#8217;s line.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Good work!... Say, but that helps.... We&#8217;d never have gotten him,&#8221; said
+R. C., beaming. I saw him look then as he used to in our sunfish,
+bent-pin days.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;ve not got him yet,&#8221; I replied, grimly. &#8220;Handle him as easily as you
+can.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Then began a fight. The bonefish changed his swift, long runs, and took
+to slow sweeps to and fro, and whenever he was drawn a few yards closer
+he would give a solid jerk and get that much line back. There was much
+danger from other pieces of floating weed. R. C. maneuvered his line to
+miss them. All the time the bonefish was pulling doggedly. I had little
+hope we might capture him. At the end of fifteen minutes he was still a
+hundred yards from <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span>the canoe and neither of us had seen him. Our
+excitement grew tenser every moment. The fish sheered to and fro, and
+would not come into shallower water. He would not budge. He took one
+long run straight up the shore, in line with us, and then circled out.
+This alarmed me, but he did not increase his lead. He came slowly
+around, yard by yard. R. C. reeled carefully, not hard enough to
+antagonize him, and after what seemed a long time got him within a
+hundred feet, and I had a glimpse of green and silver. Then off he ran
+again. How unbelievably swift! He had been close&mdash;then almost the same
+instant he was far off.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I saw him! On a wave!&#8221; yelled R. C. &#8220;That&#8217;s no bonefish! What can he
+be, anyhow? I believe I&#8217;ve got a barracuda!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>I looked and looked, but I could not see him.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No matter what you think you saw, that fish is a bonefish,&#8221; I declared,
+positively. &#8220;The runs he made! I saw silver and green! Careful now. I
+<i>know</i> he&#8217;s a bonefish. And he must be big.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Maybe it&#8217;s only the wind and waves that make him feel so strong,&#8221;
+replied R. C.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No! You can&#8217;t fool me! Play him for a big one. He&#8217;s been on
+twenty-three minutes now. Stand up&mdash;I&#8217;ll steady the canoe&mdash;and watch for
+that sudden rush when he sees the canoe. The finish is in sight.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>It was an indication of a tiring fish that he made his first circle of
+the canoe, but too far out for us to see him. This circling a boat is a
+remarkable feature, and I think it comes from the habit of a bonefish of
+pulling broadside. I cautioned R. C. to <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span>avoid the seaweed and to lead
+him a little more, but to be infinitely careful not to apply too much
+strain. He circled us again, a few yards closer. The third circle he did
+not gain a foot. Then he was on his fourth lap around the canoe, drawing
+closer. On his fifth lap clear round us he came near as fifty feet. I
+could not resist standing up to see. I got a glimpse of him and he
+looked long. But I did not say anything to R. C. We had both hooked too
+many big bonefish that got away immediately. This was another affair.</p>
+
+<p>He circled us the sixth time. Six times! Then he came rather close. On
+this occasion he saw the canoe. He surged and sped out so swiftly that I
+was simply paralyzed. R. C. yelled something that had a note of
+admiration of sheer glory in the spirit of that fish.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Here&#8217;s where he leaves us!&#8221; I echoed.</p>
+
+<p>But, as luck would have it, he stopped that run short of two hundred
+yards; and turned broadside to circle slowly back, allowing R. C. to get
+in line. He swam slower this time, and did not make the heavy tugs. He
+came easily, weaving to and fro. R. C. got him to within twenty-five
+feet of the boat, yet still could not see him. It was my job to think
+quick and sit still with ready hands on the anchor rope. He began to
+plunge, taking a little line each time. Then suddenly I saw R. C.&#8217;s line
+coming toward us. I knew that would happen.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Now! Look out! Reel in fast!&#8221; I cried, tensely.</p>
+
+<p>As I leaned over to heave up the anchor, I saw the bonefish flashing
+nearer. At that instant of thrilling excitement and suspense I could not
+trust <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span>my eyesight. There he was, swimming heavily, and he looked three
+feet long, thick and dark and heavy. I got the anchor up just as he
+passed under the canoe. Maybe I did not revel in pride of my quickness
+of thought and action!</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Oh! He&#8217;s gone under the rope!&#8221; gasped R. C.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No!&#8221; I yelled, sharply. &#8220;Let your line run out! Put your tip down!
+We&#8217;ll drift over your line.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>R. C. was dominated to do so, and presently the canoe drifted over where
+the line was stretched. That second ticklish moment passed. It had
+scared me. But I could not refrain from one sally.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I got the anchor up. What did you think I&#8217;d do?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>R. C. passed by my remark. This was serious business for him. He looked
+quite earnest and pale.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Say! did you see him?&#8221; he ejaculated, looking at me.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Wish I hadn&#8217;t,&#8221; I replied.</p>
+
+<p>We were drifting inshore, which was well, provided we did not drift too
+hard to suit the bonefish. He swam along in plain sight, and he seemed
+so big that I would not have gazed any longer if I could have helped it.</p>
+
+<p>I kept the canoe headed in, and we were not long coming to shallow
+water. Here the bonefish made a final dash for freedom, but it was short
+and feeble, compared with his first runs. He got about twenty feet away,
+then sheered, showing his broad, silver side. R. C. wound him in close,
+and an instant later the bow of the canoe grated on shore.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Now what?&#8221; asked R. C. as I stepped out into <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span>the water. &#8220;Won&#8217;t it be
+risky to lift him into the canoe?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Lift nothing! I have this all figured out. Lead him along.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>R. C. stepped out upon the beach while I was in the water. The bonefish
+lay on his side, a blaze of silver. I took hold of the line very gently
+and led the fish a little closer in. The water was about six inches
+deep. There were waves beating in&mdash;a miniature surf. And I calculated on
+the receding of a wave. Then with one quick pull I slid our beautiful
+quarry up on the coral sand. The instant he was out of the water the
+leader snapped. I was ready for this, too. But at that it was an awful
+instant! As the wave came back, almost deep enough to float the
+bonefish, I scooped him up.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He&#8217;s ours!&#8221; I said, consulting my watch. &#8220;Thirty-three minutes! I give
+you my word that fight was comparable to ones I&#8217;ve had with a Pacific
+swordfish.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Look at him!&#8221; R. C. burst out. &#8220;Look at him! When the leader broke I
+thought he was lost. I&#8217;m sick yet. Didn&#8217;t you almost bungle that?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not a chance, R. C.,&#8221; I replied. &#8220;Had that all figured. I never put any
+strain on your line until the wave went back. Then I slid him out, the
+leader broke, and I scooped him up.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>R. C. stood gazing down at the glistening, opal-spotted fish. What a
+contrast he presented to any other kind of a fish! How many beautiful
+species have we seen lying on sand or moss or ferns, just come out of
+the water! But I could remember no other so rare as this bonefish. The
+exceeding difficulty <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span>of the capture of this, our first really large
+bonefish, had a great deal to do with our admiration and pride. For the
+hard work of any achievement is what makes it worth while. But this had
+nothing to do with the exquisite, indescribable beauty of the bonefish.
+He was long, thick, heavy, and round, with speed and power in every
+line; a sharp white nose and huge black eyes. The body of him was live,
+quivering silver, molten silver in the sunlight, crossed and barred with
+blazing stripes. The opal hues came out upon the anal fin, and the broad
+tail curled up, showing lavender tints on a background of brilliant
+blue. He weighed eight pounds. Symbolic of the mysterious life and
+beauty in the ocean! Wonderful and prolific as nature is on land, she is
+infinitely more so in the sea. By the sun and the sea we live; and I
+shall never tire of seeking and studying the manifold life of the deep.</p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="VIII" id="VIII"></a>VIII</h2>
+
+<h3>SOME RARE FISH</h3>
+
+<p>It is very strange that the longer a man fishes the more there seems to
+be to learn. In my case this is one of the secrets of the fascination of
+the game. Always there will be greater fish in the ocean than I have
+ever caught.</p>
+
+<p>Five or six years ago I heard the name &#8220;waahoo&#8221; mentioned at Long Key.
+The boatmen were using it in a way to make one see that they did not
+believe there was such a fish as a waahoo. The old conch fishermen had
+never heard the name. For that matter, neither had I.</p>
+
+<p>Later I heard the particulars of a hard and spectacular fight Judge
+Shields had had with a strange fish which the Smithsonian declared to be
+a waahoo. The name waahoo appears to be more familiarly associated with
+a shrub called burning-bush, also a Pacific coast berry, and again a
+small tree of the South called winged elm. When this name is mentioned
+to a fisherman he is apt to think only fun is intended. To be sure, I
+thought so.</p>
+
+<p>In February, 1915, I met Judge Shields at Long Key, and, remembering his
+capture of this strange fish some years previous, I questioned him. He
+was <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span>singularly enthusiastic about the waahoo, and what he said excited
+my curiosity. Either the genial judge was obsessed or else this waahoo
+was a great fish. I was inclined to believe both, and then I forgot all
+about the matter.</p>
+
+<p>This year at Long Key I was trolling for sailfish out in the Gulf
+Stream, a mile or so southeast of Tennessee Buoy. It was a fine day for
+fishing, there being a slight breeze and a ripple on the water. My
+boatman, Captain Sam, and I kept a sharp watch on all sides for
+sailfish. I was using light tackle, and of course trolling, with the
+reel free running, except for my thumb.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly I had a bewildering swift and hard strike. What a wonder that I
+kept the reel from over-running! I certainly can testify to the burn on
+my thumb.</p>
+
+<p>Sam yelled &#8220;Sailfish!&#8221; and stooped for the lever, awaiting my order to
+throw out the clutch.</p>
+
+<p>Then I yelled: &#8220;Stop the boat, Sam!... It&#8217;s no sailfish!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>That strike took six hundred feet of line quicker than any other I had
+ever experienced. I simply did not dare to throw on the drag. But the
+instant the speed slackened I did throw it on, and jerked to hook the
+fish. I felt no weight. The line went slack.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No good!&#8221; I called, and began to wind in.</p>
+
+<p>At that instant a fish savagely broke water abreast of the boat, about
+fifty yards out. He looked long, black, sharp-nosed. Sam saw him, too.
+Then I felt a heavy pull on my rod and the line began to slip out. I
+jerked and jerked, and felt that I had <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span>a fish hooked. The line appeared
+strained and slow, which I knew to be caused by a long and wide bag in
+it.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Sam,&#8221; I yelled, &#8220;the fish that jumped is on my line!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No,&#8221; replied Sam.</p>
+
+<p>It did seem incredible. Sam figured that no fish could run astern for
+two hundred yards and then quick as a flash break water abreast of us.
+But I knew it was true. Then the line slackened just as it had before. I
+began to wind up swiftly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He&#8217;s gone,&#8221; I said.</p>
+
+<p>Scarcely had I said that when a smashing break in the water on the other
+side of the boat alarmed and further excited me. I did not see the fish.
+But I jumped up and bent over the stern to shove my rod deep into the
+water back of the propeller. I did this despite the certainty that the
+fish had broken loose. It was a wise move, for the rod was nearly pulled
+out of my hands. I lifted it, bent double, and began to wind furiously.
+So intent was I on the job of getting up the slack line that I scarcely
+looked up from the reel.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Look at him yump!&#8221; yelled Sam.</p>
+
+<p>I looked, but not quickly enough.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Over here! Look at him yump!&#8221; went on Sam.</p>
+
+<p>That fish made me seem like an amateur. I could not do a thing with him.
+The drag was light, and when I reeled in some line the fish got most of
+it back again. Every second I expected him to get free for sure. It was
+a miracle he did not shake the hook, as he certainly had a loose rein
+most all the time. The fact was he had such speed that I was <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span>unable to
+keep a strain upon him. I had no idea what kind of a fish it was. And
+Sam likewise was nonplussed.</p>
+
+<p>I was not sure the fish tired quickly, for I was so excited I had no
+thought of time, but it did not seem very long before I had him within
+fifty yards, sweeping in wide half-circles back of the boat.
+Occasionally I saw a broad, bright-green flash. When I was sure he was
+slowing up I put on the other drag and drew him closer. Then in the
+clear water we saw a strange, wild, graceful fish, the like of which we
+had never beheld. He was long, slender, yet singularly round and
+muscular. His color appeared to be blue, green, silver crossed by bars.
+His tail was big like that of a tuna, and his head sharper, more wolfish
+than a barracuda. He had a long, low, straight dorsal fin. We watched
+him swimming slowly to and fro beside the boat, and we speculated upon
+his species. But all I could decide was that I had a rare specimen for
+my collection.</p>
+
+<p>Sam was just as averse to the use of the gaff as I was. I played the
+fish out completely before Sam grasped the leader, pulled him close,
+lifted him in, and laid him down&mdash;a glistening, quivering, wonderful
+fish nearly six feet long.</p>
+
+<p>He was black opal blue; iridescent silver underneath; pale blue dorsal;
+dark-blue fins and copper-bronze tail, with bright bars down his body.</p>
+
+<p>I took this thirty-six pound fish to be a sea-roe, a game fish lately
+noticed on the Atlantic seaboard. But I was wrong. One old conch
+fisherman who had been around the Keys for forty years had never <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span>seen
+such a fish. Then Mr. Schutt came and congratulated me upon landing a
+waahoo.</p>
+
+<p>The catching of this specimen interested me to inquire when I could, and
+find out for myself, more about this rare fish.</p>
+
+<p>Natives round Key West sometimes take it in nets and with the grains,
+and they call it &#8220;springer.&#8221; It is well known in the West Indies, where
+it bears the name &#8220;queenfish.&#8221; After studying this waahoo there were
+boatmen and fishermen at Long Key who believed they had seen schools of
+them. Mr. Schutt had observed schools of them on the reef, low down near
+the coral&mdash;fish that would run from forty to one hundred pounds. It made
+me thrill just to think of hooking a waahoo weighing anywhere near a
+hundred pounds. Mr. Shannon testified that he had once observed a school
+of waahoo leaping in the Gulf Stream&mdash;all very large fish. And once, on
+a clear, still day, I drifted over a bunch of big, sharp-nosed,
+game-looking fish that I am sure belonged to this species.</p>
+
+<p>The waahoo seldom, almost never, is hooked by a fisherman. This fact
+makes me curious. All fish have to eat, and at least two waahoo have
+been caught. Why not more? I do not believe that it is just a new fish.
+I see Palm Beach notices printed to the effect that sailfish were never
+heard of there before the Russo-Japanese War, and that the explosions of
+floating mines drove them from their old haunts. I do not take stock in
+such theory as that. As a matter of fact, Holder observed the sailfish
+(<i>Histiophorus</i>) in the Gulf Stream off the Keys many years ago.
+Likewise the waahoo must always <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span>have been there, absent perhaps in
+varying seasons. It is fascinating to ponder over tackle and bait and
+cunning calculated to take this rare denizen of the Gulf Stream.</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p>During half a dozen sojourns at Long Key I had heard of two or three
+dolphin being caught by lucky anglers who were trolling for anything
+that would bite. But until 1916 I never saw a dolphin. Certainly I never
+hoped to take one of these rare and beautiful deep-sea fish. Never would
+have the luck. But in February I took two, and now I am forbidden the
+peculiar pleasure of disclaiming my fisherman&#8217;s luck.</p>
+
+<p>Dolphin seems a singularly attractive name. It always made me think of
+the deep blue sea, of old tars, and tall-sparred, white-sailed brigs. It
+is the name of a fish beloved of all sailors. I do not know why, but I
+suspect that it is because the dolphin haunts ships and is an omen of
+good luck, and probably the most exquisitely colored fish in the ocean.</p>
+
+<p>One day, two miles out in the Gulf Stream, I got a peculiar strike,
+quite unlike any I had ever felt. A fisherman grows to be a specialist
+in strikes. This one was quick, energetic, jerky, yet strong. And it was
+a hungry strike. A fish that is hungry can almost always be hooked. I
+let this one run a little and then hooked him. He felt light, but
+savage. He took line in short, zigzag rushes. I fancied it was a bonita,
+but Sam shook his head. With about a hundred yards of line out, the fish
+leaped. He was golden. He had a huge, blunt, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span>bow-shaped head and a
+narrow tail. The distance was pretty far, and I had no certainty to go
+by, yet I yelled:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Dolphin!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Sam was not so sure, but he looked mighty hopeful. The fish sounded and
+ran in on me, then darted here and there, then began to leap and thresh
+upon the surface. He was hard to lead&mdash;a very strong fish for his light
+weight. I never handled a fish more carefully. He came up on a low
+swell, heading toward us, and he cut the water for fifty feet, with only
+his dorsal, a gleam of gold, showing in the sunlight.</p>
+
+<p>Next he jumped five times, and I could hear the wrestling sound he made
+when he shook himself. I had no idea what he might do next, and if he
+had not been securely hooked would have gotten off. I tried hard to keep
+the line taut and was not always successful. Like the waahoo, he
+performed tricks new to me. One was an awkward diving leap that somehow
+jerked the line in a way to alarm me. When he quit his tumbling and
+rushing I led him close to the boat.</p>
+
+<p>This has always been to me one of the rewards of fishing. It quite
+outweighs that doubtful moment for me when the fish lies in the boat or
+helpless on the moss. Then I am always sorry, and more often than not
+let the fish go alive.</p>
+
+<p>My first sight of a dolphin near at hand was one to remember. The fish
+flashed gold&mdash;deep rich gold&mdash;with little flecks of blue and white. Then
+the very next flash there were greens and yellows&mdash;changing, colorful,
+brilliant bars. In that background <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span>of dark, clear, blue Gulf Stream
+water this dolphin was radiant, golden, exquisitely beautiful. It was a
+shame to lift him out of the water. But&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>The appearance of the dolphin when just out of the water beggars
+description. Very few anglers in the world have ever had this
+experience. Not many anglers, perhaps, care for the beauty of a fish.
+But I do. And for the sake of those who feel the same way I wish I could
+paint him. But that seems impossible. For even while I gazed the fish
+changed color. He should have been called the chameleon of the ocean. He
+looked a quivering, shimmering, changeful creature, the color of
+golden-rod. He was the personification of beautiful color alive. The
+fact that he was dying made the changing hues. It gave me a pang&mdash;that I
+should be the cause of the death of so beautiful a thing.</p>
+
+<p>If I caught his appearance for one fleeting instant here it is: Vivid
+green-gold, spotted in brilliant blue, and each blue spot was a circle
+inclosing white. The long dorsal extending from nose to tail seemed
+black and purple near the head, shading toward the tail to rich olive
+green with splashes of blue. Just below the dorsal, on the background of
+gold, was a line of black dots. The fins were pearly silver beneath, and
+dark green above. All the upper body was gold shading to silver, and
+this silver held exquisite turquoise-blue spots surrounded with white
+rings, in strange contrast to those ringed dots above. There was even a
+suggestion of pink glints. And the eyes were a deep purple with gold
+iris.</p>
+
+<p>The beauty of the dolphin resembled the mystery of the Gulf Stream&mdash;too
+illusive for the eye of man.</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span>More than once some benighted angler had mentioned bonefish to me. These
+individuals always appeared to be quiet, retiring fishermen who
+hesitated to enlarge upon what was manifestly close to their hearts. I
+had never paid any attention to them. Who ever heard of a bonefish,
+anyway? The name itself did not appeal to my euphonious ear.</p>
+
+<p>But on this 1916 trip some faint glimmering must have penetrated the
+density of my cranium. I had always prided myself upon my conviction
+that I did not know it all, but, just the same, I had looked down from
+my lofty height of tuna and swordfish rather to despise little
+salt-water fish that could not pull me out of the boat. The waahoo and
+the dolphin had opened my eyes. When some mild, quiet, soft-voiced
+gentleman said bonefish to me again I listened. Not only did I listen, I
+grew interested. Then I saw a couple of bonefish. They shone like
+silver, were singularly graceful in build, felt heavy as lead, and
+looked game all over. I made the mental observation that the man who had
+named them bonefish should have had half of that name applied to his
+head.</p>
+
+<p>After that I was more interested in bonefish. I never failed to ask
+questions. But bonefishermen were scarce and as reticent as scarce. To
+sum up all of my inquiries, I learned or heard a lot that left me
+completely bewildered, so that I had no idea whether a bonefish was a
+joke or the grandest fish that swims. I deducted from the amazing
+information that if a fisherman sat all day in the blazing sun and had
+the genius to discover when he had a bite he was learning. No one ever
+caught bonefish without days and days of learning. Then there were
+incidents calculated to disturb the peace of a contemplative angler like
+myself.</p>
+
+<p><a name="illo34" id="illo34"></a></p><div class="figcenter" style="width: 285px;">
+<img src="images/illus191.jpg" class="jpg ispace" width="285" height="500" alt="AT LONG KEY, THE LONELY CORAL SHORE WHERE THE SUN SHINES
+WHITE ALL DAY AND THE STARS SHINE WHITE ALL NIGHT" title="" />
+<span class="caption">AT LONG KEY, THE LONELY CORAL SHORE WHERE THE SUN SHINES
+WHITE ALL DAY AND THE STARS SHINE WHITE ALL NIGHT</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><a name="illo35" id="illo35"></a></p><div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/illus192.jpg" class="jpg ispace" width="500" height="278" alt="THE FAMOUS STUNT OF A MARLIN SWORDFISH, &#8220;WALKING ON HIS
+TAIL&#8221;" title="" />
+<span class="caption">THE FAMOUS STUNT OF A MARLIN SWORDFISH, &#8220;WALKING ON HIS
+TAIL&#8221;</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span>One man with heavy tackle yanked some bonefish out of the tide right in
+front of my cabin, quite as I used to haul out suckers. Other men tried
+it for days without success, though it appeared bonefish were passing
+every tide. Then there was a loquacious boatman named Jimmy, who, when
+he had spare time, was always fishing for bonefish. He would tell the
+most remarkable tales about these fish. So finally I drifted to that
+fatal pass where I decided I wanted to catch bonefish. I imagined it
+would be easy for me. So did Captain Sam. Alas! the vanity of man!</p>
+
+<p>Forthwith Captain Sam and I started out to catch soldier-crabs for bait.
+The directions we got from conch fishermen and others led us to assume
+that it would be an easy matter to find crabs. It was not! We had to go
+poking round mangrove roots until we learned how to catch the soldiers.
+If this had not been fun for me it would have been hard work. But ever
+since I was a little tad I have loved to chase things in the water. And
+upon this occasion it was with great satisfaction that I caught more
+bait than Captain Sam. Sam is something of a naturalist and he was
+always spending time over a curious bug or shell or object he found.
+Eventually we collected a bucketful of soldier-crabs.</p>
+
+<p>Next day, about the last of the ebb-tide, we tied a skiff astern and
+went up the Key to a cove where there were wide flats. While working our
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span>way inshore over the shoals we hit bottom several times and finally
+went aground. This did not worry us, for we believed the rising tide
+would float us.</p>
+
+<p>Then we got in the skiff and rowed toward the flats. I was rather
+concerned to see that apparently the tide was just about as high along
+this shore as it ever got. Sam shook his head. The tides were strange
+around the Keys. It will be high on the Gulf side and low on the
+Atlantic side, and sometimes it will run one way through the channels
+for thirty-six hours. But we forgot this as soon as we reached the
+bonefish shoals.</p>
+
+<p>Sam took an oar and slowly poled inshore, while I stood up on a seat to
+watch for fish. The water was from six to eighteen inches deep and very
+clear and still. The bottom appeared to be a soft mud, gray, almost
+white in color, with patches of dark grass here and there. It was really
+marl, which is dead and decayed coral.</p>
+
+<p>Scarcely had we gotten over the edge of this shoal when we began to see
+things&mdash;big blue crabs, the kind that can pinch and that play havoc with
+the fishermen&#8217;s nets, and impudent little gray crabs, and needle-fish,
+and small chocolate-colored sharks&mdash;nurse sharks, Sam called them&mdash;and
+barracuda from one foot to five feet in length, and whip-rays and
+sting-rays. It was exceedingly interesting and surprising to see all
+these in such shallow water. And they were all tame.</p>
+
+<p>Here and there we saw little boils of the water, and then a muddy patch
+where some fish had stirred the marl. Sam and I concluded these were
+made by bonefish. Still, we could not be sure. I can see a <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span>fish a long
+way in the water and I surely was alert. But some time elapsed and we
+had poled to within a few rods of the mangroves before I really caught
+sight of our coveted quarry. Then I saw five bonefish, two of them
+large, between the boat and the mangroves. They were motionless. Somehow
+the sight of them was thrilling. They looked wary, cunning, game, and
+reminded me of gray wolves I had seen on the desert. Suddenly they
+vanished. It was incredible the way they disappeared. When we got up to
+the place where they had been there were the little swirls in the roiled
+water.</p>
+
+<p>Then Sam sighted two more bonefish that flashed away too swiftly for me
+to see. We stuck an oar down in the mud and anchored the boat. It seemed
+absolutely silly to fish in water a foot deep. But I meant to try it.
+Putting a crab on my hook, I cast off ten or a dozen yards, and composed
+myself to rest and watch.</p>
+
+<p>Certainly I expected no results. But it was attractive there. The wide
+flat stretched away, bordered by the rich, dark mangroves. Cranes and
+pelicans were fishing off the shoals, and outside rippled the green
+channel, and beyond that the dark-blue sea. The sun shone hot. There was
+scarcely any perceptible breeze. All this would have been enjoyable and
+fruitful if there had not been a fish within a mile.</p>
+
+<p>Almost directly I felt a very faint vibration of my line. I waited,
+expectantly, thinking that I might be about to have a bite. But the line
+slackened and nothing happened.</p>
+
+<p>There were splashes all around us and waves and <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span>ripples here and there,
+and occasionally a sounding thump. We grew more alert and interested.
+Sam saw a bonefish right near the boat. He pointed, and the fish was
+gone. After that we sat very still, I, of course, expecting a bite every
+moment. Presently I saw a bonefish not six feet from the boat. Where he
+came from was a mystery, but he appeared like magic, and suddenly, just
+as magically, he vanished.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Funny fish,&#8221; observed Sam, thoughtfully. Something had begun to dawn
+upon Sam, as it had upon me.</p>
+
+<p>No very long time elapsed before we had seen a dozen bonefish, any one
+of which I could have reached with my rod. But not a bite! I reeled in
+to find my bait gone.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That bait was eaten off by crabs,&#8221; I said to Sam, as I put on another.</p>
+
+<p>Right away after my cast I felt, rather than saw, that slight vibration
+of my line. I waited as before, and just as before the line almost
+imperceptibly slackened and nothing happened.</p>
+
+<p>Presently I did see a blue crab deliberately cut my line. We had to move
+the boat, pick up the lost piece of line, and knot it to the other. Then
+I watched a blue crab tear off my bait. But I failed to feel or see that
+faint vibration of my line. We moved the boat again, and again my line
+was cut. These blue crabs were a nuisance. Sam moved the boat again. We
+worked up the flat nearer where the little mangroves, scarce a foot
+high, lifted a few leaves out of the water. Whenever I stood up I saw
+bonefish, and everywhere we could hear them. Once more we composed
+ourselves to watch and await developments.</p>
+
+<p><a name="illo36" id="illo36"></a></p><div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/illus197.jpg" class="ispace jpg" width="500" height="288" alt="SURGING IN A HALF-CIRCLE" title="" />
+<span class="caption">SURGING IN A HALF-CIRCLE</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><a name="illo37" id="illo37"></a></p><div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/illus198.jpg" class="ispace jpg" width="500" height="288" alt="BROADBILL SWORDFISH ON THE SURFACE&mdash;THE MOST THRILLING
+SIGHT TO A SEA ANGLER" title="" />
+<span class="caption">BROADBILL SWORDFISH ON THE SURFACE&mdash;THE MOST THRILLING
+SIGHT TO A SEA ANGLER</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span>In the succeeding hour I had many of the peculiar vibrations of my line,
+and, strange to see, every time I reeled in, part of my bait or all of
+it was gone. Still I fished on patiently for a bonefish bite.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile the sun lost its heat, slowly slanted to the horizon of
+mangroves, and turned red. It was about the hour of sunset and it turned
+out to be a beautiful and memorable one. Not a breath of air stirred.
+There was no sound except the screech of a gull and the distant splashes
+of wading birds. I had not before experienced silence on or near salt
+water. The whole experience was new. We remarked that the tide had not
+seemed to rise any higher. Everywhere were little swells, little waves,
+little wakes, all made by bonefish. The sun sank red and gold, and all
+the wide flat seemed on fire, with little mangroves standing clear and
+dark against the ruddy glow. And about this time the strangest thing
+happened. It might have been going on before, but Sam and I had not seen
+it. All around us were bonefish tails lifted out of the water. They
+glistened like silver. When a bonefish feeds his head is down and his
+tail is up, and, the water being shallow, the upper fluke of his tail
+stands out. If I saw one I saw a thousand. It was particularly easy to
+see them in the glassy water toward the sunset.</p>
+
+<p>A school of feeding bonefish came toward us. I counted eleven tails out
+of the water. They were around my bait. Now or never, I thought, waiting
+frantically! But they went on feeding&mdash;passed over my line&mdash;and came so
+near the boat that I could <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span>plainly see the gray shadow shapes, the
+long, sharp noses, the dark, staring eyes. I reeled in to find my bait
+gone, as usual. It was exasperating.</p>
+
+<p>We had to give up then, as darkness was not far off. Sam was worried
+about the boat. He rowed while I stood up. Going back, I saw bonefish in
+twos and fours and droves. We passed school after school. They had just
+come in from the sea, for they were headed up the flat. I saw many
+ten-pound fish, but I did not know enough about bonefish then to
+appreciate what I saw. However, I did appreciate their keen sight and
+wariness and wonderful speed and incredible power. Some of the big
+surges made me speculate what a heavy bonefish might do to light tackle.
+Sam and I were disappointed at our luck, somewhat uncertain whether it
+was caused by destructive work of crabs or the wrong kind of bait or
+both. It scarcely occurred to us to inquire into our ignorance.</p>
+
+<p>We found the boat hard and fast in the mud. Sam rowed me ashore. I
+walked back to camp, and he stayed all night, and all the next day,
+waiting for the tide to float the boat.</p>
+
+<p>After that on several days we went up to the flat to fish for bonefish.
+But we could not hit the right tide or the fish were not there. At any
+rate, we did not see any or get any bites.</p>
+
+<p>Then I began to fish for bonefish in front of my cottage. Whenever I
+would stick my rod in the sand and go in out of the hot sun a bonefish
+would take my bait and start off to sea. Before I could get back he
+would break something.</p>
+
+<p>This happened several times before I became so <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span>aroused that I
+determined to catch one of these fish or die. I fished and fished. I
+went to sleep in a camp-chair and absolutely ruined my reputation as an
+ardent fisherman. One afternoon, just after I had made a cast, I felt
+the same old strange vibration of my line. I was not proof against it
+and I jerked. Lo! I hooked a fish that made a savage rush, pulled my
+bass-rod out of shape, and took all my line before I could stop him.
+Then he swept from side to side. I reeled him in, only to have him run
+out again and again and yet again. I knew I had a heavy fish. I expected
+him to break my line. I handled him gingerly. Imagine my amaze to beach
+a little fish that weighed scarcely more than two pounds! But it was a
+bonefish&mdash;a glistening mother-of-pearl bonefish. Somehow the obsession
+of these bonefishermen began to be less puzzling to me. Sam saw me catch
+this bonefish, and he was as amazed as I was at the gameness and speed
+and strength of so small a fish.</p>
+
+<p>Next day a bonefisherman of years&#8217; experience answered a few questions I
+put to him. No, he never fished for anything except bonefish. They were
+the hardest fish in the sea to make bite, the hardest to land after they
+were hooked. Yes, that very, very slight vibration of the line&mdash;that
+strange feeling rather than movement&mdash;was the instant of their quick
+bite. An instant before or an instant after would be fatal.</p>
+
+<p>It dawned upon me then that on my first day I must have had dozens of
+bonefish bites, but I did not know it! I was humiliated&mdash;I was taken
+down from my lofty perch&mdash;I was furious. I thanked the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span>gentleman for
+his enlightenment and went away in search of Sam. I told Sam, and he
+laughed&mdash;laughed at me and at himself. After all, it was a joke. And I
+had to laugh too. It is good for a fisherman to have the conceit taken
+out of him&mdash;if anything can accomplish that. Then Sam and I got our
+heads together. What we planned and what we did must make another story.</p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="IX" id="IX"></a>IX</h2>
+
+<h3>SWORDFISH</h3>
+
+<p class="center"><i>From records of the New York Bureau of Fisheries,<br /> by G. B. Goode</i></p>
+
+<p>The swordfish, <i>Xiphias gladius</i>, ranges along the Atlantic coast of
+America from Jamaica (latitude 18&deg; N.), Cuba, and the Bermudas, to Cape
+Breton (latitude 47&deg; N.). It has not been seen at Greenland, Iceland, or
+Spitzbergen, but occurs, according to Collett, at the North Cape
+(latitude 71&deg;). It is abundant along the coasts of western Europe,
+entering the Baltic and the Mediterranean. I can find no record of the
+species on the west coast of Africa south of Cape Verde, though Lutken,
+who may have access to facts unknown to me, states that they occur clear
+down to the Cape of Good Hope, South Atlantic in mid-ocean, to the west
+coast of South America and to southern California (latitude 34&deg;), New
+Zealand, and in the Indian Ocean off Mauritius.</p>
+
+<p>The names of the swordfish all have reference to that prominent feature,
+the prolonged snout. The &#8220;swordfish&#8221; of our own tongue, the &#8220;zwardfis&#8221;
+of the Hollander, the Italian &#8220;sofia&#8221; and &#8220;pesce-spada,&#8221; the Spanish
+&#8220;espada&#8221; and &#8220;espadarte,&#8221; <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span>varied by &#8220;pez do spada&#8221; in Cuba, and the
+French &#8220;espadon,&#8221; &#8220;dard,&#8221; and &#8220;epee de mer,&#8221; are simply variations of
+one theme, repetitions of the &#8220;gladius&#8221; of ancient Italy and &#8220;xiphius,&#8221;
+the name by which Aristotle, the father of zoology, called the same fish
+twenty-three hundred years ago. The French &#8220;empereur&#8221; and the
+&#8220;imperador&#8221; and the &#8220;ocean kingfish&#8221; of the Spanish and French West
+Indies, carry out the same idea, for the Roman Emperor was always
+represented holding a drawn sword in his hand. The Portuguese names are
+&#8220;aguhao,&#8221; meaning &#8220;needle,&#8221; or &#8220;needle-fish.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>This species has been particularly fortunate in escaping the numerous
+redescriptions to which almost all widely distributed forms have been
+subjected. By the writers of antiquity it was spoken of under its
+Aristotelian name, and in the tenth edition of his <i>Systema Natur&aelig;</i>, at
+the very inception of binomial nomenclative, Linnaeus called it <i>Xiphias
+gladius</i>. By this name it has been known ever since, and only one
+additional name is included in its synonym, <i>Xiphias rondeletic</i> of
+Leach.</p>
+
+<p>The swordfish has been so long and so well known that its right to its
+peculiar name has seldom been infringed upon. The various species of
+<i>Tetrapturus</i> have sometimes shared its title, and this is not to be
+wondered at, since they closely resemble <i>Xiphias gladius</i>, and the
+appellative has frequently been applied to the family <i>Xiphiid&aelig;</i>&mdash;the
+swordfish&mdash;which includes them all.</p>
+
+<p>The name &#8220;bill-fish,&#8221; usually applied to our <i>Tetrapturus albidus</i>, a
+fish of the swordfish family, often taken on our coast, must be
+pronounced objectionable, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span>since it is in many districts used for
+various species of Belonid&aelig;, the garfishes or green-bones (<i>Belone
+truncata</i> and others), which are members of the same faunas. Spear-fish
+is a much better name.</p>
+
+<p>The &#8220;sailfish,&#8221; <i>Histiophorus americanus</i>, is called by sailors in the
+South the &#8220;boohoo&#8221; or &#8220;woohoo.&#8221; This is evidently a corrupted form of
+&#8220;guebum,&#8221; a name, apparently of Indian origin, given to the same fish in
+Brazil. It is possible that <i>Tetrapturus</i> is also called &#8220;boohoo,&#8221; since
+the two genera are not sufficiently unlike to impress sailors with their
+differences. Blecker states that in Sumatra the Malays call the related
+species, <i>H. gladius</i>, by the name &#8220;Joohoo&#8221; (Juhu), a curious
+coincidence. The names may have been carried from the Malay Archipelago
+to South America, or <i>vice versa</i>, by mariners.</p>
+
+<p>In Cuba the spear-fish are called &#8220;aguja&#8221; and &#8220;aguja de palada&#8221;; the
+sailfish, &#8220;aguja prieta&#8221; or &#8220;aguja valadora&#8221;; <i>Tetrapturus albidus</i>
+especially known as the &#8220;aguja blanca,&#8221; <i>T. albidus</i> as the &#8220;aguja de
+castro.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>In the West Indies and Florida the scabbard-fish or silvery hairy-tail,
+<i>Trichiurus lepturus</i>, a form allied to the <i>Xiphias</i>, though not
+resembling it closely in external appearance, is often called
+&#8220;swordfish.&#8221; The body of this fish is shaped like the blade of a saber,
+and its skin has a bright, metallic luster like that of polished steel,
+hence the name.</p>
+
+<p>Swordfish are most abundant on the shoals near the shore and on the
+banks during the months of July and August; that they make their
+appearance <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span>on the frequented cruising-grounds between Montauk Point and
+the eastern part of Georges Banks sometime between the 25th of May and
+the 20th of June, and that they remain until the approach of cold
+weather in October and November. The dates of the first fish on the
+cruising-grounds referred to are recorded for three years, and are
+reasonably reliable: in 1875, June 20th; in 1877, June 10th; in 1878,
+June 14th.</p>
+
+<p>South of the cruising-grounds the dates of arrival and departure are
+doubtless farther apart, the season being shorter north and east. There
+are no means of obtaining information, since the men engaged in this
+fishery are the only ones likely to remember the dates when the fish are
+seen.</p>
+
+<p>The swordfish comes into our waters in pursuit of its food. At least
+this is the most probable explanation of its movements, since the duties
+of reproduction appear to be performed elsewhere. Like the tuna, the
+bluefish, the bonito, and the squiteague, they pursue and prey upon the
+schools of menhaden and mackerel, which are so abundant in the summer
+months. &#8220;When you see swordfish, you may know that mackerel are about,&#8221;
+said an old fisherman to me. &#8220;When you see the fin-back whale following
+food, there you may find swordfish,&#8221; said another. The swordfish also
+feeds upon squid, which are at times abundant on our banks.</p>
+
+<p>To what extent this fish is amenable to the influences of temperature is
+an unsolved problem. We are met at the outset by the fact that they are
+frequently taken on trawl lines which are set at the depth of one
+hundred fathoms or more, on the offshore <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span>banks. We know that the
+temperature of the water in these localities and at that depth is sure
+to be less than 40&deg; Fahr. How is this fact to be reconciled with the
+known habits of the fish, that it prefers the warmest weather of summer
+and swims at the surface in water of temperature ranging from 55&deg; to
+70&deg;, sinking when cool winds blow below? The case seemed clear enough
+until the inconvenient discovery was made that swordfish are taken on
+bottom trawl lines. In other respects their habits agree closely with
+those of the mackerel tribe, all the members of which seem sensitive to
+slight changes in temperature, and which, as a rule, prefer temperature
+in the neighborhood of 50&deg; or more.</p>
+
+<p><a name="illo38" id="illo38"></a></p><div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/illus207.jpg" class="ispace jpg" width="500" height="298" alt="SHINING IN THE SUNLIGHT" title="" />
+<span class="caption">SHINING IN THE SUNLIGHT</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><a name="illo39" id="illo39"></a></p><div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/illus208.jpg" class="ispace jpg" width="500" height="293" alt="THROWING WHITE WATER LIKE THE EXPLOSION OF A TORPEDO" title="" />
+<span class="caption">THROWING WHITE WATER LIKE THE EXPLOSION OF A TORPEDO</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>The appearance of the fish at the surface depends largely upon the
+temperature. They are seen only upon quiet summer days, in the morning
+before ten or eleven o&#8217;clock, and in the afternoon about four o&#8217;clock.
+Old fishermen say that they rise when the mackerel rise, and when the
+mackerel go down they go down also.</p>
+
+<p>Regarding the winter abode of the swordfish, conjecture is useless. I
+have already discussed this question at length with reference to the
+menhaden and mackerel. With the swordfish the conditions are very
+different. The former are known to spawn in our waters, and the schools
+of young ones follow the old ones in toward the shores. The latter do
+not spawn in our waters. We cannot well believe that they hibernate, nor
+is the hypothesis of a sojourn in the middle strata of mid-ocean exactly
+tenable. Perhaps they migrate to some distant region, where they spawn.
+But then the spawning-time <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span>of this species in the Mediterranean, as is
+related in a subsequent paragraph, appears to occur in the summer
+months, at the very time when the swordfish are most abundant in our own
+waters, apparently feeling no responsibility for the perpetuation of
+their species.</p>
+
+<p>The swordfish, when swimming at the surface, usually allows its dorsal
+fin and the upper lobe of its caudal fin to be visible, projecting out
+of the water. It is this habit which enables the fisherman to detect the
+presence of the fish. It swims slowly along, and the fishing-schooner
+with a light breeze finds no difficulty in overtaking it. When excited
+its motions are very rapid and nervous. Swordfish are sometimes seen to
+leap entirely out of the water. Early writers attributed this habit to
+the tormenting presence of parasites, but this theory seems hardly
+necessary, knowing what we do of its violent exertions at other times.
+The pointed head, the fins of the back and abdomen snugly fitting into
+grooves, the absence of ventrals, the long, lithe, muscular body,
+sloping slowly to the tail, fits it for the most rapid and forceful
+movement through the water. Prof. Richard Owen, testifying in an England
+court in regard to its power, said:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>&#8220;It strikes with the accumulated force of fifteen double-handed hammers.
+Its velocity is equal to that of a swivel shot, and is as dangerous in
+its effect as a heavy artillery projectile.&#8221;</p></div>
+
+<p>Many very curious instances are on record of the encounter of this fish
+with other fishes, or of their attacks upon ships. What can be the
+inducement for it to attack objects so much larger than itself <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span>is hard
+to surmise. We are all familiar with the couplet from Oppian:</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i10">Nature her bounty to his mouth confined,</span><br />
+<span class="i10">Gave him a sword, but left unarmed his mind.</span></div></div>
+
+<p>It surely seems as if temporary insanity sometimes takes possession of
+the fish. It is not strange that when harpooned it should retaliate by
+attacking its assailant. An old swordfisherman told Mr. Blackman that
+his vessel had been struck twenty times. There are, however, many
+instances of entirely unprovoked assaults on vessels at sea. Many of
+these are recounted in a later portion of this memoir. Their movements
+when feeding are discussed below as well as their alleged peculiarities
+of movement during breeding season.</p>
+
+<p>It is the universal testimony of our fishermen that two are never seen
+swimming close together. Captain Ashby says that they are always distant
+from each other at least thirty or forty feet.</p>
+
+<p>The pugnacity of the swordfish has become a byword. Without any special
+effort on my part, numerous instances of their attacks upon vessels have
+in the last ten years found their way into the pigeonhole labeled
+&#8220;Swordfish.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&AElig;lian says (b. XXXII, c. 6) that the swordfish has a sharp-pointed snout
+with which it is able to pierce the sides of a ship and send it to the
+bottom, instances of which have been known near a place in Mauritania
+known as Cotte, not far from the river Sixus, on the African side of the
+Mediterranean. He describes the sword as like the beak of the ship
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span>known as the trireme, which was rowed with three banks of oars.</p>
+
+<p>The <i>London Daily News</i> of December 11, 1868, contained the following
+paragraph, which emanated, I suspect, from the pen of Prof. R. A.
+Proctor.</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>Last Wednesday the court of common pleas&mdash;rather a strange place,
+by the by, for inquiring into the natural history of fishes&mdash;was
+engaged for several hours in trying to determine under what
+circumstances a swordfish might be able to escape scot-free after
+thrusting his snout into the side of a ship. The gallant ship
+<i>Dreadnought</i>, thoroughly repaired and classed A1 at Lloyd&#8217;s, had
+been insured for &pound;3,000 against all risks of the sea. She sailed on
+March 10, 1864, from Columbo for London. Three days later the crew,
+while fishing, hooked a swordfish. Xiphias, however, broke the
+line, and a few moments after leaped half out of the water, with
+the object, it should seem, of taking a look at his persecutor, the
+<i>Dreadnaught</i>. Probably he satisfied himself that the enemy was
+some abnormally large cetacean, which it was his natural duty to
+attack forthwith. Be this as it may, the attack was made, and the
+next morning the captain was awakened with the unwelcome
+intelligence that the ship had sprung a leak. She was taken back to
+Columbo, and thence to Cochin, where she hove down. Near the keel
+was found a round hole, an inch in diameter, running completely
+through the copper sheathing and planking.</p>
+
+<p>As attacks by swordfish are included among sea risks, the insurance
+company was willing to pay the damages claimed by the owners of the
+ship, if only it could be proved that the hole had been really made
+by a swordfish. No instances had ever been recorded in which a
+swordfish which had passed its beak through three inches of stout
+planking could withdraw without the loss of its sword. Mr. Buckland
+said that fish have no power of &#8220;backing,&#8221; and expressed his belief
+that he could hold a swordfish by the beak; but then he admitted
+that the fish had considerable lateral power, and might so &#8220;wriggle
+its sword out of the hold.&#8221; And so the insurance company will have
+to pay nearly &pound;600 because an ill-tempered fish object<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span>ed
+to be hooked and took its revenge by running full tilt against
+copper sheathing and oak planking.</p></div>
+
+<p><a name="illo40" id="illo40"></a></p><div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/illus213.jpg" class="jpg ispace" width="500" height="292" alt="A LONG, SLIM SAILFISH WIGGLING IN THE AIR" title="" />
+<span class="caption">A LONG, SLIM SAILFISH WIGGLING IN THE AIR</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><a name="illo41" id="illo41"></a></p><div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/illus214.jpg" class="ispace jpg" width="500" height="285" alt="FIGHTING A BROADBILL SWORDFISH" title="" />
+<span class="caption">FIGHTING A BROADBILL SWORDFISH</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>The food of the swordfish is of a very mixed nature.</p>
+
+<p>Doctor Fleming found the remains of sepias in its stomach, and also
+small fishes. Oppian stated that it eagerly devours the <i>Hippuris</i>
+(probably <i>Coryph&aelig;na</i>). A specimen taken off Saconnet July 22, 1875, had
+in its stomach the remains of small fish, perhaps <i>Stromateus
+triacanthus</i>, and jaws of a squid, perhaps <i>Loligo pealin</i>. Their food
+in the western Atlantic consists for the most part of the common
+schooling species of fishes. They feed on menhaden, mackerel, bonitoes,
+bluefish, and other species which swim in close schools. Their habits of
+feeding have often been described to me by old fishermen. They are said
+to rise beneath the school of small fish, striking to the right and left
+with their swords until they have killed a number, which they then
+proceed to devour. Menhaden have been seen floating at the surface which
+have been cut nearly in twain by a blow of a sword. Mr. John H. Thompson
+remarks that he has seen them apparently throw the fish in the air,
+catching them on the fall.</p>
+
+<p>Capt. Benjamin Ashby says that they feed on mackerel, herring, whiting,
+and menhaden. He has found half a bucketful of small fish of these kind
+in the stomach of one swordfish. He has seen them in the act of feeding.
+They rise perpendicularly out of the water until the sword and
+two-thirds of the remainder of the body are exposed to view. He has seen
+a school of herring at the surface on Georges Banks as closely as they
+could be packed. A swordfish <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span>came up through the dense mass and fell
+flat on its side, striking many fish with the sides of its sword. He has
+at one time picked up as much as a bushel of herrings thus killed by a
+swordfish on Georges Banks.</p>
+
+<p>But little is known regarding their time and place of breeding. They are
+said to deposit their eggs in large quantities on the coasts of Sicily,
+and European writers give their spawning-time occurring the latter part
+of spring and the beginning of summer. In the Mediterranean they occur
+of all sizes from four hundred pounds down, and the young are so
+plentiful as to become a common article of food.</p>
+
+<p>M. Raymond, who brought to Cuvier a specimen of aistiophorn four inches
+long, taken in January, 1829, in the Atlantic, between the Cape of Good
+Hope and France, reported that there were good numbers of young sailfish
+in the place where this was taken.</p>
+
+<p>Meunier, quoting Spollongain, states that the swordfish does not
+approach the coast of Sicily except in the season of reproduction; the
+males are then seen pursuing the females. It is a good time to capture
+them, for when the female has been taken the male lingers near and is
+easily approached. The fish are abundant in the Straits of Messina from
+the middle of April to the middle of September; early in the season they
+hug the Calabrian shore, approaching from the north; after the end of
+June they are most abundant on the Sicilian shore, approaching from the
+south.</p>
+
+<p>From other circumstances, it seems certain that there are
+spawning-grounds in the seas near Sicily <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span>and Genoa, for from November
+to the 1st of March young ones are taken in the Straits of Messina,
+ranging in weight from half a pound to twelve pounds.</p>
+
+<p>In the Mediterranean, as has been already stated, the young fish are
+found from November to March, and here from July to the middle of
+September the male fish are seen pursuing the female over the shoals,
+and at this time the males are easily taken. Old swordfish fishermen,
+Captain Ashby and Captain Kirby, assure me that on our coast, out of
+thousands of specimens they have taken, they have never seen one
+containing eggs. I have myself dissected several males, none of which
+were near breeding-time. In the European waters they are said often to
+be seen swimming in pairs, male and female. Many sentimental stories
+were current, especially among the old writers, concerning the conjugal
+affection and unselfish devotion of the swordfish, but they seem to have
+originated in the imaginative brain of the naturalist rather than in his
+perceptive faculties. It is said that when the female fish is taken the
+male seems devoid of fear, approaches the boat, and allows himself
+easily to be taken, but if this be true, it appears to be the case only
+in the height of the breeding season, and is easily understood. I cannot
+learn that two swordfish have ever been seen associated together in our
+waters, though I have made frequent and diligent inquiry.</p>
+
+<p>There is no inherent improbability, however, in this story regarding the
+swordfish in Europe, for the same thing is stated by Professor Poey as
+the result upon the habits of <i>Tetrapturus</i>.</p>
+
+<p>The only individual of which we have the exact <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span>measurements was taken
+off Saconnet, Rhode Island, July 23, 1874. This was seven feet seven
+inches long, weighing one hundred and thirteen pounds. Another, taken
+off No Man&#8217;s Land, July 20, 1875, and cast in plaster for the collection
+of the National Museum, weighed one hundred and twenty pounds and
+measured about seven feet. Another, taken off Portland, August 15, 1878,
+was 3,999 millimeters long and weighed about six hundred pounds. Many of
+these fish doubtless attain the weight of four and five hundred pounds,
+and some perhaps grow to six hundred; but after this limit is reached, I
+am inclined to believe larger fish are exceptional. Newspapers are fond
+of recording the occurrence of giant fish, weighing one thousand pounds
+and upward, and old sailors will in good faith describe the enormous
+fish which they saw at sea, but could not capture; but one
+well-authenticated instance of accurate weighing is much more valuable.
+The largest one ever taken by Capt. Benjamin Ashby, for twenty years a
+swordfish fisherman, was killed on the shoals back of Edgartown,
+Massachusetts. When salted it weighed six hundred and thirty-nine
+pounds. Its live weight must have been as much as seven hundred and
+fifty or eight hundred. Its sword measured nearly six feet. This was an
+extraordinary fish among the three hundred or more taken by Captain
+Ashby in his long experience. He considers the average size to be about
+two hundred and fifty pounds dressed, or five hundred and twenty-five
+alive. Captain Martin, of Gloucester, estimated the average size at
+three to four hundred pounds. The largest known <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span>to Captain Michaux
+weighed six hundred and twenty-eight. The average about Block Island he
+considers to be two hundred pounds.</p>
+
+<p>The size of the smallest swordfish taken on our eastern coast is a
+subject of much deeper interest, for it throws light on the time and
+place of breeding. There is some difference of testimony regarding the
+average size, but all fishermen with whom I have talked agree that very
+small ones do not find their way into our shore waters. Numerous very
+small specimens have, however, been already taken by the Fish Commission
+at sea, off our middle and southern coast.</p>
+
+<p>Capt. John Rowe has seen one which did not weigh more than seventy-five
+pounds when taken out of the water.</p>
+
+<p>Capt. R. H. Hurlbert killed near Block Island, in July, 1877, one which
+weighed fifty pounds and measured about two feet without its sword.</p>
+
+<p>Captain Ashby&#8217;s smallest weighed about twenty-five pounds when dressed;
+this he killed off No Man&#8217;s Land. He tells me that a Bridgeport smack
+had one weighing sixteen pounds (or probably twenty-four when alive),
+and measuring eighteen inches without its sword.</p>
+
+<p>In August, 1878, a small specimen of the mackerel-shark, <i>Lamna
+cornubica</i>, was captured at the mouth of Gloucester Harbor. In its
+nostril was sticking a sword, about three inches long, of a young
+swordfish. When this was pulled out the blood flowed freely, indicating
+that the wound was recent. The fish to which this sword belonged cannot
+have exceeded ten or twelve inches in length. Whether the small
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span>swordfish met with its misfortune in our waters, or whether the shark
+brought this trophy from beyond the sea, is an unsolved problem.</p>
+
+<p>Lutken speaks of a very young individual taken in the Atlantic, latitude
+32&deg; 50&#8242; N., 74&deg; 19&#8242; W. This must be about one hundred and fifty miles
+southeast of Cape Hatteras.</p>
+
+<p>For many years from three to six hundred of these fish have been taken
+annually on the New England coast. It is not unusual for twenty-five or
+more to be seen in the course of a single day&#8217;s cruising, and sometimes
+as many as this are visible from the masthead at one time. Captain Ashby
+saw twenty at one time, in August, 1889, between Georges Banks and the
+South Shoals. One Gloucester schooner, <i>Midnight</i>, Capt. Alfred Wixom,
+took fourteen in one day on Georges Banks in 1877.</p>
+
+<p>Capt. John Rowe obtained twenty barrels, or four thousand pounds, of
+salt fish on one trip to Georges Banks; this amount represents twenty
+fish or more. Captain Ashby has killed one hundred and eight swordfish
+in one year; Capt. M. C. Tripp killed about ninety in 1874.</p>
+
+<p>Such instances as these indicate in a general way the abundance of the
+swordfish. A vessel cruising within fifty miles of our coast, between
+Cape May and Cape Sable, during the months of June, July, August, and
+September, cannot fail, on a favorable day, to come in sight of several
+of them. Mr. Earll states that the fishermen of Portland never knew them
+more abundant than in 1879. This is probably due in part to the fact
+that the fishery there is of a very recent origin.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span>There is no evidence of any change in their abundance, either increase
+or decrease. Fishermen agree that they are as plentiful as ever, nor can
+any change be anticipated. The present mode does not destroy them in any
+considerable numbers, each individual fish being the object of special
+pursuit. The solitary habits of the species will always protect them
+from wholesale capture, so destructive to schooling fish. Even if this
+were not the case, the evidence proves that spawning swordfish do not
+frequent our waters. When a female shad is killed, thousands of possible
+young die also. The swordfish taken by our fishermen carry no such
+precious burden.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The small swordfish is very good meat,&#8221; remarked Josselyn, in writing
+of the fishes of England in the seventeenth century. Since Josselyn
+probably never saw a young swordfish, unless at some time he had visited
+the Mediterranean, it is fair to suppose that his information was
+derived from some Italian writer.</p>
+
+<p>It is, however, a fact that the flesh of the swordfish, though somewhat
+oily, is a very acceptable article of food. Its texture is coarse; the
+thick, fleshy, muscular layers cause it to resemble that of the halibut
+in constituency. Its flavor is by many considered fine, and is not
+unlike that of the bluefish. Its color is gray. The meat of the young
+fish is highly prized on the Mediterranean, and is said to be perfectly
+white, compact, and of delicate flavor. Swordfish are usually cut up
+into steaks&mdash;thick slices across the body&mdash;and may be broiled or boiled.</p>
+
+<p>The apparatus ordinarily employed for the capture <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span>of the swordfish is
+simple in the extreme. It is the harpoon with the detachable head. When
+the fish is struck, the head of the harpoon remains in the body of the
+fish, and carries with it a light rope which is either made fast or held
+by a man in a small boat, or is attached to some kind of a buoy, which
+is towed through the water by the struggling fish, and which marks its
+whereabouts after death.</p>
+
+<p>The harpoon consists of a pole fifteen or sixteen feet in length,
+usually of hickory or some other hard wood, upon which the bark has been
+left, so that the harpooner may have a firmer hand-grip. This pole is
+from an inch and a half to two inches in diameter, and at one end is
+provided with an iron rod, or &#8220;shank,&#8221; about two feet long and
+five-eighths of an inch in diameter. This &#8220;shank&#8221; is fastened to the
+pole by means of a conical or elongated, cuplike expansion at one end,
+which fits over the sharpened end of the pole, to which it is secured by
+screws or spikes. A light line extends from one end of the pole to the
+point where it joins the &#8220;shank&#8221; and in this line is tied a loop by
+which is made fast another short line which secures the pole to the
+vessel or boat, so that when it is thrown at the fish it cannot be lost.</p>
+
+<p>Upon the end of the &#8220;shank&#8221; fits the head of the harpoon, known by the
+names swordfish-iron, lily-iron, and Indian dart. The form of this
+weapon has undergone much variation. The fundamental idea may very
+possibly have been derived from the Indian fish-dart, numerous specimens
+of which are in the National Museum, from various tribes of Indians of
+New England, British America, and the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span>Pacific. However various the
+modifications may have been, the similarity of the different shapes is
+no less noteworthy from the fact that all are peculiarly American. In
+the enormous collection of fishery implements of all lands at the late
+exhibition at Berlin, nothing of the kind could be found. What is known
+to whalers as a toggle-harpoon is a modification of the lily-iron, but
+so greatly changed by the addition of a pivot by which the head of the
+harpoon is fastened to the shank that it can hardly be regarded as the
+same weapon. The lily-iron is, in principle, exactly what a whaleman
+would describe by the word &#8220;toggle.&#8221; It consists of a two-pointed piece
+of metal, having in the center, at one side, a ring or socket the axis
+of which is parallel with the long diameter of the implement. In this is
+inserted the end of the pole-shank, and to it or near it is also
+attached the harpoon-line. When the iron has once been thrust point
+first through some solid substance, such as the side of a fish, and is
+released upon the other side by the withdrawal of the pole from the
+socket, it is free, and at once turns its long axis at right angle to
+the direction in which the harpoon-line is pulling, and this is
+absolutely prevented from withdrawal. The principle of the whale harpoon
+or toggle-iron is similar, except that the pole is not withdrawn, and
+the head, turning upon a pivot at its end, fastens the pole itself
+securely to the fish, the harpoon-line being attached to some part of
+the pole. The swordfish lily-iron head, as now ordinarily used, is about
+four inches in length, and consists of two lanceolate blades, each about
+an inch and a half long, connected <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span>by a central piece much thicker than
+they, in which, upon one side, and next to the flat side of the blade,
+is the socket for the insertion of the pole-shank. In this same central
+enlargement is forged an opening to which the harpoon-line is attached.
+The dart-head is usually made of steel; sometimes of iron, which is
+generally galvanized; sometimes of brass.</p>
+
+<p>The entire weight of the harpoon&mdash;pole, shank, and head&mdash;should not
+exceed eighteen pounds.</p>
+
+<p>The harpoon-line is from fifty to one hundred and fifty fathoms long,
+and is ordinarily what is known as &#8220;fifteen-thread line.&#8221; At the end is
+sometimes fastened a buoy, and an ordinary mackerel-keg is generally
+used for this purpose.</p>
+
+<p>In addition to the harpoon every swordfish fisherman carries a lance.
+This implement is precisely similar to a whaleman&#8217;s lance, except that
+it is smaller, consisting of a lanceolate blade perhaps one inch wide
+and two inches long, upon the end of a shank of five-eighths-inch iron,
+perhaps two or three feet in length, fastened in the ordinary way upon a
+pole fifteen to eighteen feet in length.</p>
+
+<p>The swordfish are always harpooned from the end of the bowsprit of a
+sailing-vessel. It is next to impossible to approach them in a small
+boat. All vessels regularly engaged in this fishery are supplied with a
+special apparatus called a &#8220;rest,&#8221; or &#8220;pulpit,&#8221; for the support of the
+harpooner as he stands on the bowsprit, and this is almost essential to
+success, although it is possible for an active man to harpoon a fish
+from this station without the aid of the ordinary framework. Not only
+the professional <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span>swordfish fisherman, but many mackerel-schooners and
+packets are supplied in this manner.</p>
+
+<p>The swordfish never comes to the surface except in moderate, smooth
+weather. A vessel cruising in search of them proceeds to the
+fishing-ground, and cruises hither and thither wherever the abundance of
+small fish indicates that they ought to be found. Vessels which are met
+are hailed and asked whether any swordfish have been seen, and if
+tidings are thus obtained the ship&#8217;s course is at once laid for the
+locality where they were last noticed. A man is always stationed at the
+masthead, where, with the keen eye which practice has given him, he can
+easily descry the telltale dorsal fins at a distance of two or three
+miles. When a fish has once been sighted, the watch &#8220;sings out,&#8221; and the
+vessel is steered directly toward it. The skipper takes his place in the
+&#8220;pulpit&#8221; holding the pole in both hands by the small end, and directing
+the man at the wheel by voice and gesture how to steer. There is no
+difficulty in approaching the fish with a large vessel, although, as has
+already been remarked, they will not suffer a small boat to come near
+them. The vessel plows and swashes through the water, plunging its
+bowsprit into the waves without exciting their fears. Noises frighten
+them and drive them down. Although there would be no difficulty in
+bringing the end of a bowsprit directly over the fish, a skilful
+harpooner never waits for this. When the fish is from six to ten feet in
+front of the vessel it is struck. The harpoon is never thrown, the pole
+being too long. The strong arm of the harpooner punches the dart into
+the back of the fish, right at <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span>the side of the high dorsal fin, and the
+pole is withdrawn and fastened again to its place. When the dart has
+been fastened to the fish the line is allowed to run out as far as the
+fish will carry it, and is then passed in a small boat, which is towing
+at the stern. Two men jump into this, and pull in upon the line until
+the fish is brought in alongside; it is then killed with a whale-lance
+or a whale-spade, which is stuck into the gills.</p>
+
+<p>The fish having been killed, it is lifted upon the deck by a purchase
+tackle of two double blocks rigged in the shrouds.</p>
+
+<p>The pursuit of the swordfish is much more exciting than ordinary
+fishing, for it resembles the hunting of large animals upon the land and
+partakes more of the nature of the chase. There is no slow and careful
+baiting and patient waiting, and no disappointment caused by the
+accidental capture of worthless &#8220;bait-stealers.&#8221; The game is seen and
+followed, and outwitted by wary tactics, and killed by strength of arm
+and skill. The swordfish is a powerful antagonist sometimes, and sends
+his pursuers&#8217; vessel into harbor leaking, and almost sinking, from
+injuries he has inflicted. I have known a vessel to be struck by wounded
+swordfish as many as twenty times in a season. There is even the spice
+of personal danger to savor the chase, for the men are occasionally
+wounded by the infuriated fish. One of Captain Ashby&#8217;s crew was severely
+wounded by a swordfish which thrust his beak through the oak floor of a
+boat on which he was standing, and penetrated about two inches in his
+naked heel. The strange fascination draws men to this pursuit when <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span>they
+have once learned its charms. An old swordfish fisherman, who had
+followed the pursuit for twenty years, told me that when he was on the
+cruising-ground, he fished all night in his dreams, and that many a time
+he has rubbed the skin off his knuckles by striking them against the
+ceiling of his bunk when he raised his arms to thrust the harpoon into
+visionary monster swordfishes.</p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>The Spear-fish or Bill-fish</i></p>
+
+<p>The bill-fish or spear-fish, <i>Tetrapturus indicus</i> (with various related
+forms, which may or may not be specifically identical), occurs in the
+western Atlantic from the West Indies (latitude 10&deg; to 20&deg; N.) to
+southern England (latitude 40&deg; N.); in the eastern Atlantic, from
+Gibraltar (latitude 45&deg; N.) to the Cape of Good Hope (latitude 30&deg; S.)
+in the Indian Ocean, the Malay Archipelago, New Zealand (latitude 40&deg;
+S.), and on the west coast of Chile and Peru. In a general way, the
+range is between latitude 40&deg; N. and latitude 40&deg; S.</p>
+
+<p>The species of <i>Tetrapturus</i> which we have been accustomed to call <i>T.
+albidus</i>, abundant about Cuba, is not very usual on the coast of
+southern New England. Several are taken every year by the swordfish
+fishermen. I have not known of their capture along the southern Atlantic
+coast of the United States. All I have known about were taken between
+Sandy Hook and the eastern part of Georges Banks.</p>
+
+<p>The Mediterranean spear-fish, <i>Tetrapturus balone</i>, appears to be a
+landlocked form, never passing west of the Straits of Gibraltar.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span>The spear-fish in our waters is said by our fishermen to resemble the
+swordfish in its movements and manner of feeding. Professor Poey
+narrates that both the Cuban species swim at a depth of one hundred
+fathoms, and they journey in pairs, shaping their course toward the Gulf
+of Mexico, the females being full of eggs. Only adults are taken. It is
+not known whence they come, or where they breed, or how the young
+return. It is not even known whether the adult fish return by the same
+route. When the fish has swallowed the hook it rises to the surface,
+making prodigious leaps and plunges. At last it is dragged to the boat,
+secured with a boat-hook, and beaten to death before it is hauled on
+board. Such fishing is not without danger, for the spear-fish sometimes
+rushes upon the boat, drowning the fisherman, or wounding him with its
+terrible weapon. The fish becomes furious at the appearance of sharks,
+which are its natural enemies. They engage in violent combats, and when
+the spear-fish is attached to the fisherman&#8217;s line it often receives
+frightful wounds from the adversaries.</p>
+
+<p>The spear-fish strikes vessels in the same manner as the swordfish. I am
+indebted to Capt. William Spicer, of Noank, Connecticut, for this note:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>Mr. William Taylor, of Mystic, a man seventy-six years old, who was
+in the smack <i>Evergreen</i>, Capt. John Appleman, tells me that they
+started from Mystic, October 3, 1832, on a fishing voyage to Key
+West, in company with the smack <i>Morning Star</i>, Captain Rowland. On
+the 12th were off Cape Hatteras, the winds blowing heavily from the
+northeast, and the smack under double-reefed sails. At ten o&#8217;clock
+in the evening they struck a woho, which shocked the vessel all
+over. The smack was leaking badly, and they made a signal to the
+<i>Morning</i> <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span><i>Star</i> to keep close to them. The next morning they
+found the leak, and both smacks kept off Charleston. On arrival
+they took out the ballast, hove her out, and found that the sword
+had gone through the planking, timber, and ceiling. The plank was
+two inches thick, the timber five inches, and the ceiling
+one-and-a-half-inch white oak. The sword projected two inches
+through the ceiling, on the inside of the &#8220;after run.&#8221; It struck by
+a butt on the outside, which caused the leak. They took out and
+replaced a piece of the plank, and proceeded on their voyage.</p></div>
+
+<p class="center"><i>The Sailfish</i></p>
+
+<p>The sailfish, <i>Histiophorus gladius</i> (with <i>H. americanus</i> and <i>H.
+orientalis</i>, questionable species, and <i>H. pulchellus</i> and <i>H.
+immaculatus</i>, young), occurs in the Red Sea, Indian Ocean, Malay
+Archipelago, and south at least as far as the Cape of Good Hope
+(latitude 35&deg; S.); in the Atlantic on the coast of Brazil (latitude 30&deg;
+S.) to the equator, and north to southern New England (latitude 42&deg; N.);
+in the Pacific to southwestern Japan (latitude 30&deg; to 10&deg; N.). In a
+general way the range may be said to be in tropical and temperate seas,
+between latitude 30&deg; S. and 40&deg; N., and in the western parts of those
+seas.</p>
+
+<p>The first allusion to this genus occurs in Piso&#8217;s <i>Historia Naturalis
+Brasili&aelig;</i> printed in Amsterdam in 1648. In this book may be found an
+identical, though rough, figure of the American species, accompanied by
+a few lines of description, which, though good, when the fact that they
+were written in the seventeenth century is brought to mind, are of no
+value for critical comparison.</p>
+
+<p>The name given to the Brazilian sailfish by Marcgrave, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span>the talented
+young German who described the fish in the book referred to, and who
+afterward sacrificed his life in exploring the unknown fields of
+American zoology, is interesting, since it gives a clue to the
+derivation of the name &#8220;boohoo,&#8221; by which this fish, and probably
+spear-fish, are known to English-speaking sailors in the tropical
+Atlantic.</p>
+
+<p>Sailfish were observed in the East Indies by Renard and Valentijn,
+explorers of that region from 1680 to 1720, and by other Eastern
+voyagers. No species of the genus was, however, systematically described
+until 1786, when a stuffed specimen from the Indian Ocean, eight feet
+long, was taken to London, where it still remains in the collections of
+the British Museum. From this specimen M. Broussonet prepared a
+description, giving it the name <i>Scomber gladius</i>, rightly regarding it
+as a species allied to the mackerel.</p>
+
+<p>From the time of Marcgrave until 1872 it does not appear that any
+zoologist had any opportunity to study a sailfish from America or even
+the Atlantic; yet in Gunther&#8217;s Catalogue, the name <i>H. americanus</i> is
+discarded and the species of America is assumed to be identical with
+that of the Indian Ocean.</p>
+
+<p>The materials in the National Museum consist of a skeleton and a painted
+plaster cast of the specimen taken near Newport, Rhode Island, in
+August, 1872, and given to Professor Baird by Mr. Samuel Powell, of
+Newport. No others were observed in our waters until March, 1878, when,
+according to Mr. Neyle Habersham, of Savannah, Georgia, two were taken
+by a vessel between Savannah and Indian River, Florida, and were brought
+to <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span>Savannah, where they attracted much attention in the market. In
+1873, according to Mr. E. G. Blackford, a specimen in a very mutilated
+condition was brought from Key West to New York City.</p>
+
+<p>No observations have been made in this country, and recourse must be had
+to the statements of observers in the other hemisphere.</p>
+
+<p>In the Life of Sir Stamford Raffles is printed a letter from Singapore,
+under date of November 30, 1822, with the following statement:</p>
+
+<div class="blockquot"><p>The only amusing discovery we have recently made is that of a
+sailing-fish, called by the natives &#8220;ikan layer,&#8221; of about ten or
+twelve feet long, which hoists a mainsail, and often sails in the
+manner of a native boat, and with considerable swiftness. I have
+sent a set of the sails home, as they are beautifully cut and form
+a model for a fast-sailing boat. When a school of these are under
+sail together they are frequently mistaken for a school of native
+boats.</p></div>
+
+<p>The fish referred to is in all likelihood <i>Histiophorus gladius</i>, a
+species very closely related to, if not identical with, our own.</p>
+
+<p class="center"><i>The Cutlass-fish</i></p>
+
+<p>The cutlass-fish, <i>Trichiurus lepturus</i>, unfortunately known in eastern
+Florida and at Pensacola as the swordfish; at New Orleans, in the St.
+John&#8217;s River, and at Brunswick, Georgia, it is known as the &#8220;silver
+eel&#8221;; on the coast of Texas as &#8220;saber-fish,&#8221; while in the Indian River
+region it is called the &#8220;skip-jack.&#8221; No one of these names is
+particularly applicable, and, the latter being preoccupied, it would
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span>seem advantageous to use in this country the name &#8220;cutlass-fish,&#8221; which
+is current for the same species in the British West Indies.</p>
+
+<p>Its appearance is very remarkable on account of its long, compressed
+form and its glistening, silvery color. The name &#8220;scabbard-fish,&#8221; which
+has been given to an allied species in Europe, would be very proper also
+for this species, for in general shape and appearance it looks very like
+the metallic scabbard of the sword. It attains the length of four or
+five feet, though ordinarily not exceeding twenty-five or thirty inches.
+This species is found in the tropical Atlantic, on the coast of Brazil,
+in the Gulf of California, the West Indies, the Gulf of Mexico, and
+north to Woods Hole, Massachusetts, where, during the past ten years,
+specimens have been occasionally taken. In 1845 one was found at
+Wellfleet, Massachusetts; and in the Essex Institute is a specimen which
+is said to have been found on the shores of the Norway Frith many years
+ago, and during the past decade it has become somewhat abundant in
+southern England. It does not, however, enter the Mediterranean. Some
+writers believed the allied species, <i>Trichiurus haumela</i>, found in the
+Indian Ocean and Archipelago and in various parts of the Pacific, to be
+specifically the same.</p>
+
+<p>The cutlass-fish is abundant in the St. John&#8217;s River, Florida, in the
+Indian River region, and in the Gulf of Mexico. Several instances were
+related to me in which these fish had thrown themselves from the water
+into rowboats, a feat which might be very easily performed by a lithe,
+active species like the <i>Trichiurus</i>. A small one fell into a boat
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span>crossing the mouth of the Arlington River, where the water is nearly
+fresh.</p>
+
+<p>Many individuals of the same species are taken every year at the mouth
+of the St. John&#8217;s River at Mayport. Stearn states that they are caught
+in the deep waters of the bays about Pensacola, swimming nearly at the
+surface, but chiefly with hooks and lines from the wharves. He has known
+them to strike at the oars of the boat and at the end of the ropes that
+trailed in the water. At Pensacola they reach a length of twenty to
+thirty inches, and are considered good food fish. Richard Hill states
+that in Jamaica this species is much esteemed, and is fished for
+assiduously in a &#8220;hole,&#8221; as it is called&mdash;that is, a deep portion of the
+waters off Fort Augusta. This is the best fishing-place for the
+cutlass-fish, <i>Trichiurus</i>. The fishing takes place before day; all
+lines are pulled in as fast as they are thrown out, with the certainty
+that the cutlass has been hooked. As many as ninety boats have been
+counted on this fishing-ground at daybreak during the season.</p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="X" id="X"></a>X</h2>
+
+<h3>THE GLADIATOR OF THE SEA</h3>
+
+<p>Three summers in Catalina waters I had tried persistently to capture my
+first broadbill swordfish; and so great were the chances against me that
+I tried really without hope. It was fisherman&#8217;s pride, I imagined,
+rather than hope that drove me. At least I had a remarkably keen
+appreciation of the defeats in store for any man who aspired to
+experience with that marvel of the sea&mdash;<i>Xiphius gladius</i>, the broadbill
+swordsman.</p>
+
+<p>On the first morning of my fourth summer, 1917, I was up at five. Fine,
+cool, fresh, soft dawn with a pale pink sunrise. Sea rippling with an
+easterly breeze. As the sun rose it grew bright and warm. We did not get
+started out on the water until eight o&#8217;clock. The east wind had whipped
+up a little chop that promised bad. But the wind gradually died down and
+the day became hot. Great thunderheads rose over the mainland,
+proclaiming heat on the desert. We saw scattered sheerwater ducks and a
+school of porpoises; also a number of splashes that I was sure were made
+by swordfish.</p>
+
+<p>The first broadbill I sighted had a skinned tail, and evidently had been
+in a battle of some kind. We circled him three times with flying-fish
+bait and <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span>once with barracuda, and as he paid no attention to them we
+left him. This fish leaped half out on two occasions, once showing his
+beautiful proportions, his glistening silver white, and his
+dangerous-looking rapier.</p>
+
+<p><a name="illo42" id="illo42"></a></p><div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/illus235.jpg" class="ispace jpg" width="500" height="280" alt="THE ONLY PHOTOGRAPH EVER TAKEN OF LEAPING BROADBILL
+SWORDFISH" title="" />
+<span class="caption">THE ONLY PHOTOGRAPH EVER TAKEN OF LEAPING BROADBILL
+SWORDFISH</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><a name="illo43" id="illo43"></a></p><div class="figcenter" style="width: 296px;">
+<img src="images/illus236.jpg" class="ispace jpg" width="296" height="500" alt="XIPHIAS GLADIUS, THE BROADSWORDED GLADIATOR OF THE SEA" title="" />
+<span class="caption">XIPHIAS GLADIUS, THE BROADSWORDED GLADIATOR OF THE SEA</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>The second one leaped twice before we neared him. And as we made a poor
+attempt at circling him, he saw the boat and would have none of our
+offers.</p>
+
+<p>The third one was skimming along just under the surface, difficult to
+see. After one try at him we lost him.</p>
+
+<p>They were not up on the surface that day, as they are when the best
+results are obtained. The east wind may have had something to do with
+that. These fish would average about three hundred pounds each. Captain
+Dan says the small ones are more wary, or not so hungry, for they do not
+strike readily.</p>
+
+<p>I got sunburnt and a dizzy headache and almost seasick. Yet the day was
+pleasant. The first few days are always hard, until I get broken in.</p>
+
+<p>Next morning the water and conditions were ideal. The first two
+swordfish we saw did not stay on the surface long enough to be worked.
+The third one stayed up, but turned away from the bait every time we got
+it near him. So we left him.</p>
+
+<p>About noon I sighted a big splash a mile off shoreward, and we headed
+that way. Soon I sighted fins. The first time round we got the bait
+right and I felt the old thrill. He went down. I waited; but in vain.</p>
+
+<p>He leaped half out, and some one snapped a picture. It looked like a
+fortunate opportunity grasped. We tried him again, with flying-fish and
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span>barracuda. But he would not take either. Yet he loafed around on the
+surface, showing his colors, quite near the boat. He leaped clear out
+once, but I saw only the splash. Then he came out sideways, a skittering
+sort of plunge, lazy and heavy. He was about a three-hundred pounder,
+white and blue and green, a rare specimen of fish. We tried him again
+and drew a bait right in front of him. No use! Then we charged him&mdash;ran
+him down. Even then he was not frightened, and came up astern. At last,
+discouraged at his indifference, we left him.</p>
+
+<p>This day was ideal up to noon. Then the sun got very hot. My wrists were
+burnt, and neck and face. My eyes got tired searching the sea for fins.
+It was a great game, this swordfishing, and beat any other I ever tried,
+for patience and endurance. The last fish showed his cunning. They were
+all different, and a study of each would be fascinating and instructive.</p>
+
+<p>Next morning was fine. There were several hours when the sea was smooth
+and we could have sighted a swordfish a long distance. We went eastward
+of the ship course almost over to Newport. At noon a westerly wind
+sprang up and the water grew rough. It took some hours to be out of it
+to the leeward of the island.</p>
+
+<p>I saw a whale bend his back and sound and lift his flukes high in the
+air&mdash;one of the wonder sights of the ocean.</p>
+
+<p>It was foggy all morning, and rather too cool. No fish of any kind
+showed on the surface. One of those inexplicably blank days that are
+inevitable in sea angling.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span>When we got to the dock we made a discovery. There was a kink in my
+leader about one inch above the hook. Nothing but the sword of old
+<i>Xiphius gladius</i> could have made that kink! Then I remembered a
+strange, quick, hard jerk that had taken my bait, and which I thought
+had been done by a shark. It was a swordfish striking the bait off!</p>
+
+<p>Next day we left the dock at six fifteen, Dan and I alone. The day was
+lowering and windy&mdash;looked bad. We got out ahead of every one. Trolled
+out five miles, then up to the west end. We got among the Japs fishing
+for albacore.</p>
+
+<p>About eleven I sighted a B. B. We dragged a bait near him and he went
+down with a flirt of his tail. My heart stood still. Dan and I both made
+sure it was a strike. But, no! He came up far astern, and then went down
+for good.</p>
+
+<p>The sea got rough. The wind was chilling to the bone. Sheerwater ducks
+were everywhere, in flocks and singly. Saw one yellow patch of small
+bait fish about an inch long. This patch was forty yards across. No fish
+appeared to be working on it.</p>
+
+<p>Dan sighted a big swordfish. We made for him. Dan put on an albacore.
+But it came off before I could let out the line. Then we tried a
+barracuda. I got a long line out and the hook pulled loose. This was
+unfortunate and aggravating. We had one barracuda left. Dan hooked it on
+hard.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;ll never come off!&#8221; he exclaimed. We circled old <i>Xiphius</i>, and
+when about fifty yards distant he lifted himself clear out&mdash;a most
+terrifying and magnificent fish. He would have weighed four hundred. His
+colors shone&mdash;blazed&mdash;purple blue, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span>pale green, iridescent copper, and
+flaming silver. Then he made a long, low lunge away from us. I bade him
+good-by, but let the barracuda drift back. We waited a long time while
+the line slowly bagged, drifting toward us. Suddenly I felt a quick,
+strong pull. It electrified me. I yelled to Dan. He said, excitedly,
+&#8220;Feed it to him!&#8221; but the line ceased to play out. I waited, slowly
+losing hope, with my pulses going back to normal. After we drifted for
+five minutes I wound in the line. The barracuda was gone and the leader
+had been rolled up. This astounded us. That swordfish had taken my bait.
+I felt his first pull. Then he had come toward the boat, crushing the
+bait off the hook, without making even a twitch on the slack line. It
+was heartbreaking. But we could not have done any different. Dan decided
+the fish had come after the teasers. This experience taught us exceeding
+respect for the broadbill.</p>
+
+<p>Again we were off early in the morning. Wind outside and growing rough.
+Sun bright until off Isthmus, when we ran into fog. The Jap
+albacore-boats were farther west. Albacore not biting well. Sea grew
+rough. About eleven thirty the fog cleared and the sea became
+beautifully blue and white-crested.</p>
+
+<p>I was up on the deck when a yell from below made me jump. I ran back.
+Some one was holding my rod, and on the instant that a huge swordfish
+got the bait had not the presence of mind to throw off the drag and let
+out line. We hurried to put on another flying-fish and I let out the
+line.</p>
+
+<p>Soon Dan yelled, &#8220;There he is&mdash;behind your bait!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span>I saw him&mdash;huge, brown, wide, weaving after my bait. Then he hit it with
+his sword. I imagined I could feel him cut it. Winding in, I found the
+bait cut off neatly back of the head. While Dan hurried with another
+bait I watched for the swordfish, and saw him back in the wake, rather
+deep. He was following us. It was an intensely exciting moment. I let
+the bait drift back. Almost at once I felt that peculiar rap at my bait,
+then another. Somehow I knew he had cut off another flying-fish. I
+reeled in. He had severed this bait in the middle. Frantically we baited
+again. I let out a long line, and we drifted. Hope was almost gone when
+there came a swift tug on my line, and then the reel whirred. I thumbed
+the pad lightly. Dan yelled for me to let him have it. I was all
+tingling with wonderful thrills. What a magnificent strike! He took line
+so fast it amazed me.</p>
+
+<p>All at once, just as Dan yelled to hook him, the reel ceased to turn,
+the line slacked. I began to jerk hard and wind in, all breathless with
+excitement and frenzy of hope. Not for half a dozen pumps and windings
+did I feel him. Then heavy and strong came the weight. I jerked and
+reeled. But I did not get a powerful strike on that fish. Suddenly the
+line slacked and my heart contracted. He had shaken the hook. I reeled
+in. Bait gone! He had doubled on me and run as swiftly toward the boat
+as he had at first run from it.</p>
+
+<p>The hook had not caught well. Probably he had just held the bait between
+his jaws. The disappointment was exceedingly bitter and poignant. My
+respect for <i>Xiphius</i> increased in proportion to my sense <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span>of lost
+opportunity. This great fish thinks! That was my conviction.</p>
+
+<p>We sighted another that refused to take a bait and soon went down.</p>
+
+<p>We had learned the last few days that broadbills will strike when not on
+the surface, just as Marlin swordfish do.</p>
+
+<p>On our next day out we had smooth sea all morning, with great,
+slow-running swells, long and high, with deep hollows between. Vast,
+heaving bosom of the deep! It was majestic. Along the horizon ran dark,
+low, lumpy waves, moving fast. A thick fog, like a pall, hung over the
+sea all morning.</p>
+
+<p>About eleven o&#8217;clock I sighted fins. We made a circle round him, and
+drew the bait almost right across his bill. He went down. Again that
+familiar waiting, poignant suspense!... He refused to strike.</p>
+
+<p>Next one was a big fellow with pale fins. We made a perfect circle, and
+he went down as if to take the bait!... But he came up. We tried again.
+Same result. Then we put on an albacore and drew that, tail first, in
+front of him. Slowly he swam toward it, went down, and suddenly turned
+and shot away, leaving a big wake. He was badly scared by that albacore.</p>
+
+<p>Next one we worked three times before he went down, and the last one
+gave us opportunity for only one circle before he sank.</p>
+
+<p>They are shy, keen, and wise.</p>
+
+<p>The morning following, as we headed out over a darkly rippling sea, some
+four miles off Long Point, where we had the thrilling strikes from the
+big swordfish, and which place we had fondly imagined was <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span>our happy
+hunting-ground&mdash;because it was near shore and off the usual fishing
+course out in the channel&mdash;we ran into Boschen fighting a fish.</p>
+
+<p>This is a spectacle not given to many fishermen, and I saw my
+opportunity.</p>
+
+<p>With my glass I watched Boschen fight the swordfish, and I concluded
+from the way he pulled that he was fast to the bottom of the ocean. We
+went on our way then, and that night when I got in I saw his wonderful
+swordfish, the world&#8217;s record we all knew he would get some day. Four
+hundred and sixty-three pounds! And he had the luck to kill this great
+fish in short time. My friend Doctor Riggin, a scientist, dissected this
+fish, and found that Boschen&#8217;s hook had torn into the heart. This
+strange feature explained the easy capture, and, though it might detract
+somewhat from Boschen&#8217;s pride in the achievement, it certainly did not
+detract from the record.</p>
+
+<p>That night, after coming in from the day&#8217;s hunt for swordfish, Dan and I
+decided to get good bait. At five thirty we started for seal rocks. The
+sun was setting, and the red fog over the west end of the island was
+weird and beautiful. Long, slow swells were running, and they boomed
+inshore on the rocks. Seals were barking&mdash;a hoarse, raucous croak. I saw
+a lonely heron silhouetted against the red glow of the western horizon.</p>
+
+<p>We fished&mdash;trolling slowly a few hundred yards offshore&mdash;and soon were
+fighting barracuda, which we needed so badly for swordfish bait.</p>
+
+<p>They strike easily, and put up a jerky kind of battle. They are a long,
+slim fish, yellow and white <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span>in the water, a glistening pale bronze and
+silver when landed. I hooked a harder-fighting fish, which, when brought
+in, proved to be a white sea-bass, a very beautiful species with faint
+purplish color and mottled opal tints above the deep silver.</p>
+
+<p>Next morning we left the bay at six thirty. It was the calmest day we
+had had in days. The sea was like a beveled mirror, oily, soft, and
+ethereal, with low swells barely moving. An hour and a half out we were
+alone on the sea, out of sight of land, with the sun faintly showing,
+and all around us, inclosing and mystical, a thin haze of fog.</p>
+
+<p>Alone, alone, all alone on a wide, wide sea! This was wonderful, far
+beyond any pursuit of swordfish.</p>
+
+<p>We sighted birds, gulls, and ducks floating like bits of colored cork,
+and pieces of kelp, and at length a broadbill. We circled him three
+times with barracuda, and again with a flying-fish. Apparently he had no
+interest in edibles. He scorned our lures. But we stayed with him until
+he sank for good.</p>
+
+<p>Then we rode the sea for hours, searching for fins.</p>
+
+<p>At ten forty we sighted another. Twice we drew a fresh fine barracuda in
+front of him, which he refused. It was so disappointing, in fact, really
+sickening.</p>
+
+<p>Dan was disgusted. He said, &#8220;We can&#8217;t get them to bite!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>And I said, &#8220;Let&#8217;s try again!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>So we circled him once more. The sea was beautifully smooth, with the
+slow swells gently heaving. The swordfish rode them lazily and
+indifferently. His dorsal stood up straight and stiff, and the big
+sickle-shaped tail-fin wove to and fro behind. I gazed at them
+longingly, in despair, as unattainable. I knew of nothing in the fishing
+game as tantalizing and despairing as this sight.</p>
+
+<p><a name="illo44" id="illo44"></a></p><div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/illus245.jpg" class="ispace jpg" width="500" height="287" alt="A STRAIGHTAWAY GREYHOUND LEAP, MARVELOUS FOR ITS SPEED
+AND WILDNESS" title="" />
+<span class="caption">A STRAIGHTAWAY GREYHOUND LEAP, MARVELOUS FOR ITS SPEED
+AND WILDNESS</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><a name="illo45" id="illo45"></a></p><div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/illus246.jpg" class="ispace jpg" width="500" height="292" alt="LIKE A LEAPING SPECTER" title="" />
+<span class="caption">LIKE A LEAPING SPECTER</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span>We got rather near him this time, as he turned, facing us, and slowly
+swam in the direction of my bait. I could see the barracuda shining
+astern. Dan stopped the boat. I slowly let out line. The swordfish
+drifted back, and then sank.</p>
+
+<p>I waited, intensely, but really without hope. And I watched my bait
+until it sank out of sight. Then followed what seemed a long wait.
+Probably it was really only a few moments. I had a sort of hopeless
+feeling. But I respected the fish all the more.</p>
+
+<p>Then suddenly I felt a quiver of my line, as if an electric current had
+animated it. I was shocked keen and thrilling. My line whipped up and
+ran out.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He&#8217;s got it!&#8221; I called, tensely. That was a strong, stirring instant as
+with fascinated eyes I watched the line pass swiftly and steadily off
+the reel. I let him run a long way.</p>
+
+<p>Then I sat down, jammed the rod in the socket, put on the drag, and
+began to strike. The second powerful sweep of the rod brought the line
+tight and I felt that heavy live weight. I struck at least a dozen times
+with all my might while the line was going off the reel. The swordfish
+was moving ponderously. Presently he came up with a great splash,
+showing his huge fins, and then the dark, slender, sweeping sword. He
+waved that sword, striking fiercely at the leader. Then he went down. It
+was only at this moment I realized I had again hooked a broadbill. Time,
+ten forty-five.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span></p><p>The fight was on.</p>
+
+<p>For a while he circled the boat and it was impossible to move him a
+foot. He was about two hundred and fifty yards from us. Every once in a
+while he would come up. His sword would appear first, a most
+extraordinary sight as it pierced the water. We could hear the swish.
+Once he leaped half out. We missed this picture. I kept a steady, hard
+strain on him, pumping now and then, getting a little line in, which he
+always got back. The first hour passed swiftly with this surface fight
+alternating with his slow heavy work down. However, he did not sound.</p>
+
+<p>About eleven forty-five he leaped clear out, and we snapped two pictures
+of him. It was a fierce effort to free the hook, a leap not beautiful
+and graceful, like that of the Marlin, but magnificent and dogged.</p>
+
+<p>After this leap he changed his tactics. Repeatedly I was pulled forward
+and lifted from my seat by sudden violent jerks. They grew more frequent
+and harder. He came up and we saw how he did that. He was facing the
+boat and batting the leader with his sword. This was the most remarkable
+action I ever observed in a fighting fish. That sword was a weapon. I
+could hear it hit the leader. But he did most of this work under the
+surface. Every time he hit the leader it seemed likely to crack my neck.
+The rod bent, then the line slackened so I could feel no weight, the rod
+flew straight. I had an instant of palpitating dread, feeling he had
+freed himself&mdash;then harder came the irresistible, heavy drag again. This
+batting of the leader and consequent slacking of the line worried Dan,
+as it <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span>did me. Neither of us expected to hold the fish. As a performance
+it was wonderful. But to endure it was terrible. And he batted that
+leader at least three hundred times!</p>
+
+<p>In fact, every moment or two he banged the leader several times for over
+an hour. It almost wore me out. If he had not changed those tactics
+again those jerks would have put a kink in my neck and back. But
+fortunately he came up on the surface to thresh about some more. Again
+he leaped clear, affording us another chance for a picture. Following
+that he took his first long run. It was about one hundred yards and as
+fast as a Marlin. Then he sounded. He stayed down for half an hour. When
+he came up somewhat he seemed to be less resistant, and we dragged him
+at slow speed for several miles. At the end of three hours I asked Dan
+for the harness, which he strapped to my shoulders. This afforded me
+relief for my arms and aching hands, but the straps cut into my back,
+and that hurt. The harness enabled me to lift and pull by a movement of
+shoulders. I worked steadily on him for an hour, five different times
+getting the two-hundred-foot mark on the line over my reel. When I tired
+Dan would throw in the clutch and drag him some more. Once he followed
+us without strain for a while; again we dragged him two or three miles.
+And most remarkable of all, there was a period of a few moments when he
+towed us. A wonderful test for a twenty-four-strand line! We made
+certain of this by throwing papers overboard and making allowance for
+the drift. At that time there was no wind. I had three and one-half
+hours of perfectly smooth water.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span>It was great to be out there on a lonely sea with that splendid fish. I
+was tiring, but did not fail to see the shimmering beauty of the sea,
+the playing of albacore near at hand, the flight of frightened
+flying-fish, the swooping down of gulls, the dim shapes of boats far
+off, and away above the cloud-bank of fog the mountains of California.</p>
+
+<p>About two o&#8217;clock our indefatigable quarry began to belabor the leader
+again. He appeared even more vicious and stronger. That jerk, with its
+ragged, rough loosening of the line, making me feel the hook was tearing
+out, was the most trying action any fish ever worked on me. The physical
+effort necessary to hold him was enough, without that onslaught on my
+leader. Again there came a roar of water, a splash, and his huge
+dark-blue and copper-colored body surged on the surface. He wagged his
+head and the long black sword made a half-circle. The line was taut from
+boat to fish in spite of all I could do in lowering my rod. I had to
+hold it up far enough to get the spring. There was absolutely no way to
+keep him from getting slack. The dangerous time in fighting heavy,
+powerful fish is when they head toward the angler. Then the hook will
+pull out more easily than at any other time. He gave me a second long
+siege of these tactics until I was afraid I would give out. When he got
+through and sounded I had to have the back-rest replaced in the seat to
+rest my aching back.</p>
+
+<p>Three o&#8217;clock came and passed. We dragged him awhile, and found him
+slower, steadier, easier to pull. That constant long strain must have
+been telling upon him. It was also telling upon me. As I tried to save
+some strength for the finish, I had not once tried my utmost at lifting
+him or pulling him near the boat. Along about four o&#8217;clock he swung
+round to the west in the sun glare and there he hung, broadside, about a
+hundred yards out, for an hour. We had to go along with him.</p>
+
+<p><a name="illo46" id="illo46"></a></p><div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/illus251.jpg" class="jpg ispace" width="500" height="288" alt="WALKING ON HIS TAIL" title="" />
+<span class="caption">WALKING ON HIS TAIL</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><a name="illo47" id="illo47"></a></p><div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/illus252.jpg" class="ispace jpg" width="500" height="299" alt="A MAGNIFICENT FLASHING LEAP." title="" />
+<span class="caption">A MAGNIFICENT FLASHING LEAP. THIS PERFECT PICTURE
+CONSIDERED BY AUTHOR TO BE WORTH HIS FIVE YEARS&#8217; LABOR AND PATIENCE</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span>The sea began to ripple with a breeze, and at length white-caps
+appeared. In half an hour it was rough, not bad, but still making my
+work exceedingly hard. I had to lift the rod up to keep the seat from
+turning and to hold my footing on the slippery floor. The water dripping
+from the reel had wet me and all around me.</p>
+
+<p>At five o&#8217;clock I could not stand the harness any longer, so had Dan
+remove it. That was a relief. I began to pump my fish as in the earlier
+hours of the fight. Eventually I got him out of that broadside position
+away from us and to the boat. He took some line, which I got back. I now
+began to have confidence in being able to hold him. He had ceased
+batting the leader. For a while he stayed astern, but gradually worked
+closer. This worried Dan. He was getting under the boat. Dan started
+faster ahead and still the swordfish kept just under us, perhaps fifty
+feet down. It was not long until Dan was running at full speed. But we
+could not lose the old gladiator! Then I bade Dan slow down, which he
+was reluctant to do. He feared the swordfish would ram us, and I had
+some qualms myself. At five thirty he dropped astern again and we
+breathed freer. At this time I decided to see if I could pull him close.
+I began to pump and reel, and inch by inch, almost, I gained line. I
+could not tell <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span>just how far away he was, because the marks had worn off
+my line. It was amazing and thrilling, therefore, to suddenly see the
+end of the double line appear. Dan yelled. So did I. Like a Trojan I
+worked till I got that double line over my reel. Then we all saw the
+fish. He was on his side, swimming with us&mdash;a huge, bird-shaped creature
+with a frightful bill. Dan called me to get the leader out of water and
+then hold. This took about all I had left of strength. The fish wavered
+from side to side, and Dan feared he would go under the boat. He ordered
+me to hold tight, and he put on more speed. This grew to be more than I
+could stand. It was desperately hard to keep the line from slipping. And
+I knew a little more of that would lose my fish. So I called Dan to take
+the leader. With his huge gaff in right hand, Dan reached for the leader
+with his left, grasped it, surged the fish up and made a lunge. There
+came a roar and a beating against the boat. Dan yelled for another gaff.
+It was handed to him and he plunged that into the fish.</p>
+
+<p>Then I let down my rod and dove for the short rope to lasso the sweeping
+tail. Fortunately he kept quiet a moment in which I got the loop fast.
+It was then <i>Xiphius gladius</i> really woke up. He began a tremendous
+beating with his tail. Both gaff ropes began to loosen, and the rope on
+his tail flew out of my hands. Dan got it in time. But it was slipping.
+He yelled for me to make a hitch somewhere. I was pulled flat in the
+cockpit, but scrambled up, out on the stern, and held on to that rope
+grimly while I tried to fasten it. Just almost impossible! The water was
+deluging us. The swordfish banged the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span>boat with sodden, heavy blows.
+But I got the rope fast. Then I went to Dan&#8217;s assistance. The two of us
+pulled that tremendous tail up out of the water and made fast the rope.
+Then we knew we had him. But he surged and strained and lashed for a
+long while. And side blows of his sword scarred the boat. At last he
+sagged down quiet, and we headed for Avalon. Once more in smooth water,
+we loaded him astern. I found the hook just in the corner of his mouth,
+which fact accounted for the long battle.</p>
+
+<p>Doctor Riggin, the University of Pennsylvania anatomist, and classmate
+of mine, dissected this fish for me. Two of the most remarkable features
+about <i>Xiphius gladius</i> were his heart and eye.</p>
+
+<p>The heart was situated deep in just back of the gills. It was a big
+organ, exceedingly heavy, and the most muscular tissue I ever saw. In
+fact, so powerfully muscular was it that when cut the tissue contracted
+and could not be placed together again. The valves were likewise
+remarkably well developed and strong. This wonderful heart accounted for
+the wonderful vitality of the swordfish. The eyes of a swordfish
+likewise proved the wonder of nature. They were huge and prominent, a
+deep sea-blue set in pale crystal rims and black circles. A swordfish
+could revolve his eyes and turn them in their sockets so that they were
+absolutely protected in battle with his mates and rivals. The eye had a
+covering of bone, cup-shaped, and it was this bone that afforded
+protection. It was evident that when the eye was completely turned in
+the swordfish could not see at all. Probably this was for close battle.
+The muscles were very heavy and strong, one attached <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span>at the rim of the
+eye and the other farther back. The optic nerve was as large as the
+median nerve of a man&#8217;s arm&mdash;that is to say, half the size of a
+lead-pencil. There were three coverings over the fluid that held the
+pupil. And these were as thick and tough as isinglass. Most remarkable
+of all was the ciliary muscle which held the capacity of contracting the
+lens for distant vision. A swordfish could see as far as the rays of
+light penetrated in whatever depth he swam. I have always suspected he
+had extraordinary eyesight, and this dissection of the eye proved it. No
+fear a swordfish will not see a bait! He can see the boat and the bait a
+long distance.</p>
+
+<p>Doctor Riggin found no sperm in any of the male fish he dissected, which
+was proof that swordfish spawn before coming to Catalina waters. They
+are a warm-water fish, and probably head off the Japan current into some
+warm, intersecting branch that leads to spawning-banks.</p>
+
+<p>This was happy knowledge for me, because it will be good to know that
+when old <i>Xiphius gladius</i> is driven from Catalina waters he will be
+roaming some other place of the Seven Seas, his great sickle fins
+shining dark against the blue.</p>
+
+<p><a name="illo48" id="illo48"></a></p><div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/illus257.jpg" class="jpg ispace" width="500" height="287" alt="TIRED OUT&mdash;THE LAST SLOW HEAVE" title="" />
+<span class="caption">TIRED OUT&mdash;THE LAST SLOW HEAVE</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><a name="illo49" id="illo49"></a></p><div class="figcenter" style="width: 328px;">
+<img src="images/illus258.jpg" class="ispace jpg" width="328" height="500" alt="HAULED ABOARD WITH BLOCK AND TACKLE" title="" />
+<span class="caption">HAULED ABOARD WITH BLOCK AND TACKLE</span>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="XI" id="XI"></a>XI</h2>
+
+<h3>SEVEN MARLIN SWORDFISH IN ONE DAY</h3>
+
+<p>San Clemente lies forty miles south of Santa Catalina, out in the
+Pacific, open to wind and fog, scorched by sun, and beaten on every
+shore by contending tides. Seen from afar, the island seems a bleak,
+long, narrow strip of drab rock rising from a low west end to the
+dignity of a mountain near the east end. Seen close at hand, it is still
+barren, bleak, and drab; but it shows long golden slopes of wild oats;
+looming, gray, lichen-colored crags, where the eagles perch; and rugged
+deep ca&ntilde;ons, cactus-covered on the south side and on the other indented
+by caves and caverns, and green with clumps of wild-lilac and
+wild-cherry and arbor-vit&aelig;; and bare round domes where the wild goats
+stand silhouetted against the blue sky.</p>
+
+<p>This island is volcanic in origin and structure, and its great caves
+have been made by blow-holes in hot lava. Erosion has weathered slope
+and wall and crag. For the most part these slopes and walls are
+exceedingly hard to climb. The goat trails are narrow and steep, the
+rocks sharp and ragged, the cactus thick and treacherous. Many years ago
+Mexicans placed goats on the island for the need of shipwrecked sailors,
+and these goats have traversed <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span>the wild oat slopes until they are like
+a network of trails. Every little space of grass has its crisscross of
+goat trails.</p>
+
+<p>I rested high up on a slope, in the lee of a rugged rock, all
+rust-stained and gray-lichened, with a deep cactus-covered ca&ntilde;on to my
+left, the long, yellow, windy slope of wild oats to my right, and
+beneath me the Pacific, majestic and grand, where the great white
+rollers moved in graceful heaves along the blue. The shore-line, curved
+by rounded gravelly beach and jutted by rocky point, showed creeping
+white lines of foam, and then green water spotted by beds of golden
+kelp, reaching out into the deeps. Far across the lonely space rose
+creamy clouds, thunderheads looming over the desert on the mainland.</p>
+
+<p>A big black raven soared by with dismal croak. The wind rustled the
+oats. There was no other sound but the sound of the sea&mdash;deep,
+low-toned, booming like thunder, long crash and continuous roar.</p>
+
+<p>How wonderful to watch eagles in their native haunts! I saw a bald eagle
+sail by, and then two golden eagles winging heavy flight after him.
+There seemed to be contention or rivalry, for when the white-headed bird
+alighted the others swooped down upon him. They circled and flew in and
+out of the ca&ntilde;on, and one let out a shrill, piercing scream. They
+disappeared and I watched a lonely gull riding the swells. He at least
+was at home on the restless waters. Life is beautiful, particularly
+elemental life. Then far above I saw the white-tipped eagle and I
+thrilled to see the difference now in his flight. He was monarch of the
+air, king of the wind, lonely <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span>and grand in the blue. He soared, he
+floated, he sailed, and then, away across the skies he flew, swift as an
+arrow, to slow and circle again, and swoop up high and higher,
+wide-winged and free, ringed in the azure blue, and then like a
+thunderbolt he fell, to vanish beyond the crags.</p>
+
+<p>Again I saw right before me a small brown hawk, poised motionless,
+resting on the wind, with quivering wings, and he hung there, looking
+down for his prey&mdash;some luckless lizard or rat. He seemed suspended on
+wires. There, down like a brown flash he was gone, and surely that swoop
+meant a desert tragedy.</p>
+
+<p>I heard the bleat of a lamb or kid, and it pierced the melancholy roar
+of the sea.</p>
+
+<p>If there is a rapture on the lonely shore, there was indeed rapture here
+high above it, blown upon by the sweet, soft winds. I heard the bleat
+close at hand. Turning, I saw a she-goat with little kid scarce a foot
+high. She crossed a patch of cactus. The kid essayed to follow here, but
+found the way too thorny. He bleated&mdash;a tiny, pin-pointed bleat&mdash;and his
+mother turned to answer encouragingly. He leaped over a cactus,
+attempted another, and, failing, fell on the sharp prickers. He bleated
+in distress and scrambled out of that hard and painful place. The mother
+came around, and presently, reunited, they went on, to disappear.</p>
+
+<p>The island seemed consecrated to sun and sea. It lay out of the latitude
+of ships. Only a few Mexican sheep-herders lived there, up at the east
+end where less-rugged land allowed pasture for their flocks. A little
+rain falls during the winter months, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span>and soon disappears from the
+porous ca&ntilde;on-beds. Water-holes were rare and springs rarer. The summit
+was flat, except for some rounded domes of mountains, and there the
+deadly cholla cactus grew&mdash;not in profusion, but enough to prove the
+dread of the Mexicans for this species of desert plant. It was a small
+bush, with cones like a pine cone in shape, growing in clusters, and
+over stems and cones were fine steel-pointed needles with invisible
+hooks at the ends.</p>
+
+<p>A barren, lonely prospect, that flat plateau above, an empire of the
+sun, where heat veils rose and mirages haunted the eye. But at sunset
+fog rolled up from the outer channel, and if the sun blasted the life on
+the island, the fog saved it. So there was war between sun and fog, the
+one that was the lord of day, and the other the dew-laden savior of
+night.</p>
+
+<p>South, on the windward side, opened a wide bay, Smugglers Cove by name,
+and it was infinitely more beautiful than its name. A great curve
+indented the league-long slope of island, at each end of which low,
+ragged lines of black rock jutted out into the sea. Around this immense
+bare amphitheater, which had no growth save scant cactus and patches of
+grass, could be seen long lines of shelves where the sea-levels had been
+in successive ages of the past.</p>
+
+<p>Near the middle of the curve, on a bleached bank, stood a lonely little
+hut, facing the sea. Old and weather-beaten, out of place there, it held
+and fascinated the gaze. Below it a white shore-line curved away where
+the waves rolled in, sadly grand, to break and spread on the beach.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span>At the east end, where the jagged black rocks met the sea, I loved to
+watch a great swell rise out of the level blue, heave and come,
+slow-lifting as if from some infinite power, to grow and climb aloft
+till the blue turned green and sunlight showed through, and the long,
+smooth crest, where the seals rode, took on a sharp edge to send wisps
+of spray in the wind, and, rising sheer, the whole swell, solemn and
+ponderous and majestic, lifted its volume one beautiful instant, then
+curled its shining crest and rolled in and down with a thundering,
+booming roar, all the curves and contours gone in a green-white seething
+mass that climbed the reefs and dashed itself to ruin.</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p>An extraordinary achievement and record fell to my brother R. C. It was
+too much good luck ever to come my way. Fame is a fickle goddess. R. C.
+had no ambition to make a great catch of swordfish. He angles for these
+big game of the sea more to furnish company for me than for any other
+reason. He likes best the golden, rocky streams where the bronze-back
+black-bass hide, or the swift, amber-colored brooks full of rainbow
+trout.</p>
+
+<p>I must add that in my opinion, and Captain Danielson&#8217;s also, R. C. is a
+superior angler, and all unconscious of it. He has not my intimate
+knowledge of big fish, but he did not seem to need that. He is powerful
+in the shoulders and arms, his hands are strong and hard from baseball
+and rowing, and he is practically tireless. He never rested while
+fighting a fish. We never saw him lean the rod on the gunwale. All of
+which accounts for his <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span>quick conquering of a Marlin swordfish. We have
+yet to see him work upon a broadbill or a big tuna; and that is
+something Captain Dan and I are anticipating with much pleasure and
+considerable doubt.</p>
+
+<p>August 31st dawned fine and cool and pleasant, rather hazy, with warm
+sun and smooth sea.</p>
+
+<p>The night before we had sat in front of our tents above the beach and
+watched the flying-fish come out in twos and threes and schools, all the
+way down the rugged coast. I told the captain then that swordfish were
+chasing them. But he was skeptical.</p>
+
+<p>This morning I remembered, and I was watching. Just at the Glory Hole my
+brother yelled, &#8220;Strike!&#8221; I did not see the fish before he hit the bait.
+It is really remarkable how these swordfish can get to a bait on the
+surface without being seen. R. C. hooked the Marlin.</p>
+
+<p>The first leap showed the fish to be small. He did not appear to be much
+of a jumper or fighter. He leaped six times, and then tried to swim out
+to sea. Slow, steady work of R. C.&#8217;s brought him up to the boat in
+fifteen minutes. But we did not gaff him. We estimated his weight at one
+hundred and thirty pounds. Captain Dan cut the leader close to the hook.
+I watched the fish swim lazily away, apparently unhurt, and sure to
+recover.</p>
+
+<p>We got going again, and had scarce trolled a hundred yards when I saw
+something my companions missed. I stood up.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, this starts out like your day,&#8221; I remarked to my brother.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span>Then he saw a purple shape weaving back of his bait and that galvanized
+him into attention. It always thrilled me to see a swordfish back of the
+bait. This one took hold and ran off to the right. When hooked it took
+line with a rush, began to thresh half out, and presently sounded. We
+lost the direction. It came up far ahead of the boat and began to leap
+and run on the surface.</p>
+
+<p>We followed while R. C. recovered the line. Then he held the fish well
+in hand; and in the short time of twelve minutes brought the leader to
+Dan&#8217;s hand. The Marlin made a great splash as he was cut loose.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Say, two swordfish in less than half an hour!&#8221; I expostulated. &#8220;Dan,
+this might be <i>the</i> day.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Captain Dan looked hopeful. We were always looking for that day which
+came once or twice each season.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m tired,&#8221; said my brother. &#8220;Now you catch a couple.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>He talked about swordfish as carelessly as he used to talk about
+sunfish. But he was not in the least tired. I made him take up the rod
+again. I sensed events. The sea looked darkly rippling, inviting, as if
+to lure us on.</p>
+
+<p>We had worked and drifted a little offshore. But that did not appear to
+put us out of the latitude of swordfish. Suddenly Captain Dan yelled,
+&#8220;Look out!&#8221; Then we all saw a blaze of purple back of R. C.&#8217;s bait. Dan
+threw out the clutch. But this Marlin was shy. He flashed back and
+forth. How swift! His motion was only a purple flash. He loomed up after
+the teasers. We had three of these flying-fish out as teasers, all close
+to the boat. I <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span>always wondered why the swordfish appear more attracted
+to the teasers than to our hooked baits only a few yards back. I made
+the mistake to pull the teasers away from this swordfish. Then he left
+us.</p>
+
+<p>I was convinced, however, that this was to be R. C.&#8217;s day, and so, much
+to his amaze and annoyance, I put away my rod. No sooner had I quit
+fishing than a big black tail showed a few yards out from R. C.&#8217;s bait.
+Then a shining streak shot across under the water, went behind R. C.&#8217;s
+bait, passed it, came again. This time I saw him plainly. He was big and
+hungry, but shy. He rushed the bait. I saw him take it in his pointed
+jaws and swerve out of sight, leaving a boil on the surface. R. C. did
+not give him time to swallow the hook, but struck immediately. The fish
+ran off two hundred yards and then burst up on the surface. He was a
+jumper, and as he stayed in sight we all began to yell our admiration.
+He cleared the water forty-two times, all in a very few minutes. At the
+end of twenty-eight minutes R. C., with a red face and a bulging jaw,
+had the swordfish beaten and within reach of Captain Dan.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He&#8217;s a big one&mdash;over two hundred and fifty,&#8221; asserted that worthy.
+&#8220;Mebbe you won&#8217;t strike a bigger one.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Cut him loose,&#8221; I said, and my brother echoed my wish.</p>
+
+<p>It was a great sight to see that splendid swordfish drift away from the
+boat&mdash;to watch him slowly discover that he was free.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ten o&#8217;clock! We&#8217;ll hang up two records to-day!&#8221; boomed Captain Dan, as
+with big, swift hands he put on another bait for R. C.</p>
+
+<p><a name="illo50" id="illo50"></a></p><div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/illus267.jpg" class="ispace jpg" width="500" height="296" alt="R. C. ON THE JOB" title="" />
+<span class="caption">R. C. ON THE JOB</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><a name="illo51" id="illo51"></a></p><div class="figcenter" style="width: 138px;">
+<img src="images/illus268t.jpg" class="ispace jpg" width="138" height="245" alt="304 POUNDS" title="" />
+<span class="caption">304 POUNDS</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><a name="illo52" id="illo52"></a></p><div class="figcenter" style="width: 390px;">
+<img src="images/illus268b.jpg" class="jpg smispace" width="390" height="245" alt="R. C. GREY AND RECORD MARLIN" title="" />
+<span class="caption">R. C. GREY AND RECORD MARLIN</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span>&#8220;Do you fellows take me for a drag-horse?&#8221; inquired R. C., mildly. &#8220;I&#8217;ve
+caught enough swordfish for this year.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Why, man, it&#8217;s the day!&#8221; exclaimed Captain Dan, in amaze and fear.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Humph!&#8221; replied my brother.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But the chance for a record!&#8221; I added, weakly. &#8220;Only ten o&#8217;clock....
+Three swordfish already.... Great chance for Dan, you know.... Beat the
+dickens out of these other fishermen.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Aw, that&#8217;s a lot of &#8216;con&#8217;!&#8221; replied my brother.</p>
+
+<p>Very eloquently then I elaborated on the fact that we were releasing the
+fish, inaugurating a sportsman-like example never before done there;
+that it really bid fair to be a wonderful day; that I was having a great
+chance to snap pictures of leaping fish; that it would be a favor to me
+for him to go the limit on this one occasion.</p>
+
+<p>But R. C. showed no sign of wavering. He was right, of course, and I
+acknowledged that afterward to myself. On the instant, however, I racked
+my brain for some persuasive argument. Suddenly I had an inspiration.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;They think you&#8217;re a dub fisherman,&#8221; I declared, forcefully.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;<i>They?</i>&#8221; My brother glared darkly at me.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Sure,&#8221; I replied, hurriedly, with no intention of explaining that
+dubious <i>they</i>. &#8220;Now&#8217;s your chance to fool them.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ahuh! All right, fetch on a flock of swordfish, and then some
+broadbills,&#8221; remarked R. C., blandly. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span>&#8220;Hurry, Dan! There&#8217;s a fin right
+over there. Lead me to him! See.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Sure enough, R. C. pointed out a dark sickle fin on the surface. I
+marveled at the sight. It certainly is funny the luck some fishermen
+have! Captain Dan, beaming like a sunrise, swung the boat around toward
+the swordfish.</p>
+
+<p>That Marlin rushed the teasers. I pulled all three away from him, while
+R. C. was reeling in his bait to get it close. Then the swordfish fell
+all over himself after it. He got it. He would have climbed aboard after
+it. The way R. C. hooked this swordfish showed that somebody had got his
+dander up and was out to do things. This pleased me immensely. It scared
+me a little, too, for R. C. showed no disposition to give line or be
+gentle to the swordfish. In fact, it was real fight now. And this
+particular fish appeared to have no show on earth&mdash;or rather in the
+water&mdash;and after fourteen leaps he was hauled up to the boat in such
+short order that if we had gaffed him, as we used to gaff Marlin, we
+would have had a desperate fight to hold him. But how easy to cut him
+free! He darted down like a blue streak. I had no fair sight of him to
+judge weight, but Captain Dan said he was good and heavy.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Come on! Don&#8217;t be so slow!&#8221; yelled R. C., with a roving eye over the
+deep.</p>
+
+<p>Captain Dan was in his element. He saw victory perched upon the mast of
+the <i>Leta D.</i> He moved with a celerity that amazed me, when I remembered
+how exasperatingly slow he could be, fooling with kites. This was
+Captain Dan&#8217;s game.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The ocean&#8217;s alive with swordfish!&#8221; he boomed. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span>Only twice before had I
+heard him say that, and he was right each time. I gazed abroad over the
+beautiful sea, and, though I could not see any swordfish, somehow I
+believed him. It was difficult now, in this exciting zest of a record
+feat, to think of the nobler attributes of fishing. Strong, earnest,
+thrilling business it was indeed for Captain Dan.</p>
+
+<p>We all expected to see a swordfish again. That was exactly what
+happened. We had not gone a dozen boat-lengths when up out of the blue
+depths lunged a lazy swordfish and attached himself to R. C.&#8217;s hook. He
+sort of half lolled out in lazy splashes four or five times. He looked
+huge. All of a sudden he started off, making the reel hum. That run
+developed swiftly. Dan backed the boat full speed. In vain! It was too
+late to turn. That swordfish run became the swiftest and hardest I ever
+saw. A four-hundred-yard run, all at once, was something new even for
+me. I yelled for R. C. to throw off the drag. He tried, but failed. I
+doubted afterward if that would have done any good. That swordfish was
+going away from there. He broke the line.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Gee! What a run!&#8221; I burst out. &#8220;I&#8217;m sorry. I hate to break off hooks in
+fish.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Put your hand on my reel,&#8221; said R. C.</p>
+
+<p>It was almost too hot to bear touching. R. C. began winding in the long
+slack line.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Did you see that one?&#8221; he asked, grimly.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not plain. But what I did see looked big.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Say, he was a whale!&#8221; R. C.&#8217;s flashing eyes showed he had warmed to the
+battle.</p>
+
+<p>In just ten minutes another swordfish was chasing <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span>the teasers. It was
+my thrilling task to keep them away from him. Hard as I pulled, I failed
+to keep at least one of them from him. He took it with a &#8220;wop,&#8221; his bill
+half out of the water, and as he turned with a splash R. C. had his bait
+right there. Smash! The swordfish sheered off, with the bait shining
+white in his bill. When hooked he broke water about fifty yards out and
+then gave an exhibition of high and lofty tumbling, water-smashing, and
+spray-flinging that delighted us. Then he took to long, greyhound leaps
+and we had to chase him. But he did not last long, with the inexorable
+R. C. bending back on that Murphy rod. After being cut free, this
+swordfish lay on the surface a few moments, acting as if he was out of
+breath. He weighed about one hundred and fifty, and was a particularly
+beautiful specimen. The hook showed in the corner of his mouth. He did
+not have a scratch on his graceful bronze and purple and silver body. I
+waved my hat at him and then he slowly sank.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What next?&#8221; I demanded. &#8220;This can&#8217;t keep up. Something is going to
+happen.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>But my apprehension in no wise disturbed R. C. or Captain Dan.</p>
+
+<p>They proceeded to bait up again, to put out the teasers, to begin to
+troll; and then almost at once a greedy swordfish appeared, absolutely
+fearless and determined. R. C. hooked him. The first leap showed the
+Marlin to be the smallest of the day so far. But what he lacked in
+weight he made up in activity. He was a great performer, and his forte
+appeared to be turning upside down in the air. He leaped clear
+twenty-two times. Then he settled <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span>down and tried to plug out to sea.
+Alas! that human steam-winch at the rod drew him right up to the boat,
+where he looked to weigh about one hundred and twenty-five pounds.</p>
+
+<p><a name="illo53" id="illo53"></a></p><div class="figcenter" style="width: 218px;">
+<img src="images/illus273.jpg" class="ispace jpg" width="218" height="500" alt="328-POUND RECORD MARLIN BY R. C. GREY. SHAPELIEST AND
+MOST BEAUTIFUL SPECIMEN EVER TAKEN" title="" />
+<span class="caption">328-POUND RECORD MARLIN BY R. C. GREY. SHAPELIEST AND
+MOST BEAUTIFUL SPECIMEN EVER TAKEN</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><a name="illo54" id="illo54"></a></p><div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/illus274.jpg" class="ispace jpg" width="500" height="284" alt="SUNSET OVER CLEMENTE CHANNEL" title="" />
+<span class="caption">SUNSET OVER CLEMENTE CHANNEL</span>
+</div>
+
+<p>&#8220;Six!&#8221; I exclaimed, as we watched the freed fish swim away. &#8220;That&#8217;s the
+record.... And all let go alive&mdash;unhurt.... Do you suppose any one will
+believe us?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It doesn&#8217;t make any difference,&#8221; remarked my brother. &#8220;We know. That&#8217;s
+the best of the game&mdash;letting the fish go alive.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Come on!&#8221; boomed Dan, with a big flying-fish in his hands. &#8220;You&#8217;re not
+tired.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Yes, I am tired,&#8221; replied R. C.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It&#8217;s early yet,&#8221; I put in. &#8220;We&#8217;ll cinch the record for good. Grab the
+rod. I&#8217;ll enjoy the work for you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>R. C. resigned himself, not without some remarks anent the insatiable
+nature of his host and boatman.</p>
+
+<p>We were now off the east end of Clemente Island, that bleak and ragged
+corner where the sea, whether calm or stormy, contended eternally with
+the black rocks, and where the green and white movement of waves was
+never still. When almost two hundred yards off the yellow kelp-beds I
+saw a shadow darker than the blue water. It seemed to follow the boat,
+rather deep down and far back. But it moved. I was on my feet,
+thrilling.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s a swordfish!&#8221; I called.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No,&#8221; replied R. C.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Some wavin&#8217; kelp, mebbe,&#8221; added Dan, doubtfully.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Slow up a little,&#8221; I returned. &#8220;I see purple.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span>Captain Dan complied and we all watched. We all saw an enormous colorful
+body loom up, take the shape of a fish, come back of R. C.&#8217;s bait, hit
+it and take it.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;By George!&#8221; breathed R. C., tensely. His line slowly slipped out a
+little, then stopped.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He&#8217;s let go,&#8221; said my brother.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There&#8217;s another one,&#8221; cried Dan.</p>
+
+<p>With that I saw what appeared to be another swordfish, deeper down,
+moving slowly. This one also looked huge to me. He was right under the
+teasers. It dawned upon me that he must have an eye on them, so I began
+to pull them in.</p>
+
+<p>As they came in the purple shadow seemed to rise. It was a swordfish and
+he resembled a gunboat with purple outriggers. Slowly he came onward and
+upward, a wonderful sight.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Wind your bait in!&#8221; I yelled to R. C.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly Dan became like a jumping-jack. &#8220;He&#8217;s got your hook,&#8221; he
+shouted to my brother. &#8220;He&#8217;s had it all the time.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The swordfish swam now right under the stern of the boat so that I could
+look down upon him. He was deep down, but not too deep to look huge.
+Then I saw R. C.&#8217;s leader in his mouth. He had swallowed the flying-fish
+bait and had followed us for the teasers. The fact was stunning. R. C.,
+who had been winding in, soon found out that his line went straight
+down. He felt the fish. Then with all his might he jerked to hook that
+swordfish.</p>
+
+<p>Just then, for an instant my mind refused to work swiftly. It was locked
+round some sense of awful <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span>expectancy. I remembered my camera in my
+hands and pointed it where I expected something wonderful about to
+happen.</p>
+
+<p>The water on the right, close to the stern, bulged and burst with a
+roar. Upward even with us, above us, shot a tremendously large, shiny
+fish, shaking and wagging, with heavy slap of gills.</p>
+
+<p>Water deluged the boat, but missed me. I actually smelled that fish, he
+was so close. What must surely have been terror for me, had I actually
+seen and realized the peril, gave place to flashing thought of the one
+and great chance for a wonderful picture of a big swordfish close to the
+boat. That gripped me. While I changed the focus on my camera I missed
+seeing the next two jumps. But I heard the heavy sousing splashes and
+the yells of Dan and R. C., with the shrill screams of the ladies.</p>
+
+<p>When I did look up to try to photograph the next leap of the swordfish I
+saw him, close at hand, monstrous and animated, in a surging,
+up-sweeping splash. I heard the hiss of the boiling foam. He lunged
+away, churning the water like a sudden whirl of a ferryboat wheel, and
+then he turned squarely at us. Even then Captain Dan&#8217;s yell did not warn
+us. I felt rather than saw that he had put on full speed ahead. The
+swordfish dove toward us, went under, came up in a two-sheeted white
+splash, and rose high and higher, to fall with a cracking sound. Like a
+flash of light he shot up again, and began wagging his huge
+purple-barred body, lifting himself still higher, until all but his tail
+stood ponderously above the surface; and then, incredibly powerful, he
+wagged and lashed upright in a sea of hissing foam, mouth open wide,
+blood streaming down his <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span>wet sides and flying in red spray from his
+slapping gills&mdash;a wonderful and hair-raising spectacle. He stayed up
+only what seemed a moment. During this action and when he began again to
+leap and smash toward us, I snapped my camera three times upon him. But
+I missed seeing some of his greatest leaps because I had to look at the
+camera while operating it.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Get back!&#8221; yelled Dan, hoarsely.</p>
+
+<p>I was so excited I did not see the danger of the swordfish coming
+aboard. But Captain Dan did. He swept the girls back into the cabin
+doorway, and pushed Mrs. R. C. into a back corner of the cockpit.
+Strange it seemed to me how pale Dan was!</p>
+
+<p>The swordfish made long, swift leaps right at the boat. On the last he
+hit us on the stern, but too low to come aboard. Six feet closer to us
+would have landed that huge, maddened swordfish right in the cockpit!
+But he thumped back, and the roar of his mighty tail on the water so
+close suddenly appalled me. I seemed to grasp how near he had come
+aboard at the same instant that I associated the power of his tail with
+a havoc he would have executed in the boat. It flashed over me that he
+would weigh far over three hundred.</p>
+
+<p>When he thumped back the water rose in a sounding splash, deluging us
+and leaving six inches in the cockpit. He sheered off astern, sliding
+over the water in two streaks of white running spray, and then up he
+rose again in a magnificent wild leap. He appeared maddened with pain
+and fright and instinct to preserve his life.</p>
+
+<p>Again the fish turned right at us. This instant <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span>was the most
+terrifying. Not a word from R. C.! But out of the tail of my eye I saw
+him crouch, ready to leap. He grimly held on to his rod, but there had
+not been a tight line on it since he struck the fish.</p>
+
+<p>Yelling warningly, Captain Dan threw the wheel hard over. But that
+seemed of no use. We could not lose the swordfish.</p>
+
+<p>He made two dives into the air, and the next one missed us by a yard,
+and showed his great, glistening, striped body, thick as a barrel, and
+curved with terrible speed and power, right alongside the cockpit. He
+passed us, and as the boat answered to the wheel and turned, almost at
+right angles, the swordfish sheered too, and he hit us a sounding thud
+somewhere foreward. Then he went under or around the bow and began to
+take line off the reel for the first time. I gave him up. The line
+caught all along the side of the boat. But it did not break, and kept
+whizzing off the reel. I heard the heavy splash of another jump. When we
+had turned clear round, what was our amaze and terror to see the
+swordfish, seemingly more tigerish than ever, thresh and tear and leap
+at us again. He was flinging bloody spray and wigwagging his huge body,
+so that there was a deep, rough splashing furrow in the sea behind him.
+I had never known any other fish so fast, so powerful, so wild with
+fury, so instinct with tremendous energy and life. Dan again threw all
+his weight on the wheel. The helm answered, the boat swung, and the
+swordfish missed hitting us square. But he glanced along the port side,
+like a toboggan down-hill, and he seemed to ricochet over the water. His
+tail made <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span>deep, solid thumps. Then about a hundred feet astern he
+turned in his own length, making a maelstrom of green splash and white
+spray, out of which he rose three-quarters of his huge body,
+purple-blazed, tiger-striped, spear-pointed, and, with the sea boiling
+white around him, he spun around, creating an indescribable picture of
+untamed ferocity and wild life and incomparable beauty. Then down he
+splashed with a sullen roar, leaving a red foam on the white.</p>
+
+<p>That appeared the end of his pyrotechnics. It had been only a few
+moments. He began to swim off slowly and heavily. We followed. After a
+few tense moments it became evident that his terrible surface work had
+weakened him, probably bursting his gills, from which his life-blood
+escaped.</p>
+
+<p>We all breathed freer then. Captain Dan left the wheel, mopping his
+pale, wet face. He gazed at me to see if I had realized our peril. With
+the excitement over, I began to realize. I felt a little shaky then. The
+ladies were all talking at once, still glowing with excitement. Easy to
+see they had not appreciated the danger! But Captain Dan and I knew that
+if the swordfish had come aboard&mdash;which he certainly would have done had
+he ever slipped his head over the gunwale&mdash;there would have been a
+tragedy on the <i>Leta D.</i></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I never knew just how easy it could happen,&#8221; said Dan. &#8220;No one ever
+before hooked a big fish right under the boat.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;With that weight, that tail, right after being hooked, he would have
+killed some of us and wrecked the boat!&#8221; I exclaimed, aghast.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span>&#8220;Well, I had him figured to come into the boat and I was ready to jump
+overboard,&#8221; added my brother.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We won&#8217;t cut him loose,&#8221; said Dan. &#8220;That&#8217;s some fish. But he acts like
+he isn&#8217;t goin&#8217; to last long.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Still, it took two hours longer of persistent, final effort on the part
+of R. C. to bring this swordfish to gaff. We could not lift the fish up
+on the stern and we had to tow him over to Mr. Jump&#8217;s boat and there
+haul him aboard by block and tackle. At Avalon he weighed three hundred
+and twenty-eight pounds.</p>
+
+<p>R. C. had caught the biggest Marlin in 1916&mdash;three hundred and four
+pounds, and this three-hundred-and-twenty-eight-pound fish was the
+largest for 1918. Besides, there was the remarkable achievement and
+record of seven swordfish in one day, with six of them freed to live and
+roam the sea again. But R. C. was not impressed. He looked at his hands
+and said:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;You and Dan put a job up on me.... Never again!&#8221;</p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="XII" id="XII"></a>XII</h2>
+
+<h3>RANDOM NOTES</h3>
+
+<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Avalon</span>, <i>July 1, 1918</i>.</p>
+
+<p>Cool, foggy morning; calm sea up until one o&#8217;clock, then a west wind
+that roughened the water white. No strikes. Did not see a fish. Trolled
+with kite up to the Isthmus and back. When the sun came out its warmth
+was very pleasant. The slopes seemed good to look at&mdash;so steep and
+yellow-gray with green spots, and long slides running down to the shore.
+The tips of the hills were lost in the fog. It was lonely on the sea,
+and I began again to feel the splendor and comfort of the open spaces,
+the free winds, the canopy of gray and blue, the tidings from afar.</p>
+
+<p class="right"><i>July 3d.</i></p>
+
+<p>Foggy morning; pale line of silver on eastern horizon; swell, but no
+wind. Warm. After a couple of hours fog disintegrated. Saw a big Marlin
+swordfish. Worked him three times, then charged him. No use!</p>
+
+<p>Gradually rising wind. Ran up off Long Point and back. At 3:30 was
+tired. We saw a school of tuna on the surface. Flew the kite over them.
+One big fellow came clear out on his side and got <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span>the hook. He made one
+long run, then came in rather easily. Time, fifteen minutes. He was
+badly hooked. Seventy-eight pounds.</p>
+
+<p>We trolled then until late afternoon. I saw some splashes far out. Tuna!
+We ran up. Found patches of anchovies. I had a strike. Tuna hooked
+himself and got off. We tried again. I had another come clear out in a
+smashing charge. He ran off heavy and fast. It took fifty minutes of
+very hard work to get him in. He weaved back of the boat for half an
+hour and gave me a severe battle. He was hooked in the corner of the
+mouth and was a game, fine fish. Seventy-three and one-half pounds.</p>
+
+<p class="right"><i>July 6th.</i></p>
+
+<p>Started out early. Calm, cool, foggy morning; rather dark. Sea smooth,
+swelling, heaving. Mysterious, like a shadowed opal. Long mounds of
+water waved noiselessly, wonderfully, ethereally from the distance, and
+the air was hazy, veiled, and dim. A lonely, silent vastness.</p>
+
+<p>We saw several schools of tuna, but got no strikes. Worked a Marlin
+swordfish, but he would not notice the bait.</p>
+
+<p>It was a long, hard day on the sea.</p>
+
+<p class="right"><i>July 10th.</i></p>
+
+<p>We got off at 6:30 before the other boats. Smooth water. Little breeze.
+Saw a school of tuna above Long Point. Put up the kite. The school went
+down. But R. C. got a little strike. Did not hook fish.</p>
+
+<p>Then we sighted a big school working east. We followed it, running into
+a light wind. Kite blew <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span>O. K. and R. C. got one fish (seventy-one
+pounds), then another (forty-eight pounds). They put up fair fights.</p>
+
+<p>Then I tried light tackle. All the time the school traveled east, going
+down and coming up. The first fish that charged my bait came clear out
+after it. He got it and rushed away. I had the light drag on, and I did
+not thumb the pad hard, but the tuna broke the line. We tried again. Had
+another thrilling strike. The fish threw the hook. We had to pull in the
+kite, put up another one&mdash;get it out, and all the time keep the school
+in sight. The tuna traveled fast. The third try on light tackle resulted
+in another fine strike, and another tuna that broke the line.</p>
+
+<p>Then R. C. tried the heavy tackle again, and lost a fish.</p>
+
+<p>When my turn came I was soon fast to a hard-fighting fish, but he did
+not stay with me long. This discouraged me greatly.</p>
+
+<p>Then R. C. took his rod once more. It was thrilling to run down on the
+school and skip a flying-fish before the leaders as they rolled along,
+fins out, silver sides showing, raising little swells and leaving a
+dark, winkling, dimpling wake behind them. When the bait got just right
+a larger tuna charged furiously, throwing up a great splash. He hit the
+bait, and threw the hook before R. C. could strike hard.</p>
+
+<p>We had nine bites out of this school. Followed it fifteen miles. Twice
+we were worried by other boats, but for the rest of the time had the
+school alone.</p>
+
+<p class="right"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span><i>July 11th.</i></p>
+
+<p>Morning was cold, foggy, raw. East wind. Disagreeable. Trolled out about
+six miles and all around. Finally ran in off east end, where I caught a
+yellow-fin. The sun came up, but the east wind persisted. No fish. Came
+in early.</p>
+
+<p class="right"><i>July 12th.</i></p>
+
+<p>Went out early. Clear morning. Cool. Rippling sea. Fog rolled down like
+a pale-gray wall. Misty, veiled, vague, strange, opaque, silent, wet,
+cold, heavy! It enveloped us. Then we went out of the bank into a great
+circle, clear and bright, with heaving, smooth sea, surrounded by fog.</p>
+
+<p>After an hour or two the fog rose and drifted away.</p>
+
+<p>We trolled nine hours. Three little fish struck at the bait, but did not
+get the hook.</p>
+
+<p class="right"><i>August 6th.</i></p>
+
+<p>To-day I went out alone with Dan. Wonderful sea. Very long, wide, deep,
+heaving swells, beautiful and exhilarating to watch. No wind. Not very
+foggy. Sunshine now and then. I watched the sea&mdash;marveled at its grace,
+softness, dimpled dark beauty, its vast, imponderable racing, its
+restless heaving, its eternal motion. I learned from it. I found
+loneliness, peace.</p>
+
+<p>Saw a great school of porpoises coming. Ran toward them. About five
+hundred all crashing in and out of the great swells, making a spectacle
+of rare sea action and color and beauty. They surrounded the bow of the
+boat, and then pandemonium broke loose. They turned to play with us,
+racing, diving, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span>leaping, shooting&mdash;all for our delight. I stood right
+up on the bow and could see deep. It was an unforgetable experience.</p>
+
+<p class="right"><i>August 7th.</i></p>
+
+<p>Long run to-day, over eighty miles. East to Point Vincent, west to end
+of Catalina, then all around. Fine sea and weather. Just right for kite.
+Saw many ducks and a great number of big sharks. The ducks were
+traveling west, the sharks east. We saw no tuna.</p>
+
+<p>Coming back the wind sprang up and we had a following sea. It was fine
+to watch the green-and-white rollers breaking behind us.</p>
+
+<p>The tuna appear to be working farther and farther off the east end.
+Marlin swordfish have showed up off the east end. Three caught yesterday
+and one to-day. I have not yet seen a broadbill, and fear none are
+coming this year.</p>
+
+<p class="right"><i>August 8th.</i></p>
+
+<p>Went off east end. Had a Marlin strike. The fish missed the hook. A
+shark took the bait. When it was pulled in to the gaff Captain Dan
+caught the leader, drew the shark up, and it savagely bit the boat. Then
+it gave a flop and snapped Captain Dan&#8217;s hand.</p>
+
+<p>I was frightened. The captain yelled for me to hit the shark with a
+club. I did not lose a second. The shark let go. We killed it, and found
+Dan&#8217;s hand badly lacerated. My swiftness of action saved Dan&#8217;s hand.</p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="XIII" id="XIII"></a>XIII</h2>
+
+<h3>BIG TUNA</h3>
+
+<p>It took me five seasons at Catalina to catch a big tuna, and the event
+was so thrilling that I had to write to my fisherman friends about it.
+The result of my effusions seem rather dubious. Robert H. Davis, editor
+of <i>Munsey&#8217;s</i>, replies in this wise: &#8220;If you went out with a
+mosquito-net to catch a mess of minnows your story would read like Roman
+gladiators seining the Tigris for whales.&#8221; Now, I am at a loss to know
+how to take that compliment. Davis goes on to say more, and he also
+quotes me: &#8220;You say &#8216;the hard, diving fight of a tuna liberates the
+brute instinct in a man.&#8217; Well, Zane, it also liberates the qualities of
+a liar!&#8221; Davis does not love the sweet, soft scent that breathes from
+off the sea. Once on the Jersey coast I went tuna-fishing with him. He
+was not happy on the boat. But once he came up out of the cabin with a
+jaunty feather in his hat. I admired it. I said:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Bob, I&#8217;ll have to get something like that for my hat.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Zane,&#8221; he replied, piercingly, &#8220;what you need for your hat is a head!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>My friend Joe Bray, who publishes books in Chicago, also reacts
+peculiarly to my fish stories. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span>He writes me a satiric, doubting
+letter&mdash;then shuts up his office and rushes for some river or lake. Will
+Dilg, the famous fly-caster, upon receipt of my communication, wrote me
+a nine-page prose-poem epic about the only fish in the
+world&mdash;black-bass. Professor Kellogg always falls ill and takes a
+vacation, during which he writes me that I have not mental capacity to
+appreciate my luck.</p>
+
+<p>These fellows will illustrate how my friends receive angling news from
+me. I ought to have sense enough to keep my stories for publication. I
+strongly suspect that their strange reaction to my friendly feeling is
+because I have caught more and larger black-bass than they ever saw.
+Some day I will go back to the swift streams and deep lakes, where the
+bronze-backs live, and fish with my friends, and then they will realize
+that I never lie about the sport and beauty and wonder of the great
+outdoors.</p>
+
+<p>Every season for the five years that I have been visiting Avalon there
+has been a run of tuna. But the average weight was from sixty to
+ninety-five pounds. Until this season only a very few big tuna had been
+taken. The prestige of the Tuna Club, the bragging of the old members,
+the gossip of the boatmen&mdash;all tend to make a fisherman feel small until
+he has landed a big one. Come to think of it, considering the years of
+the Tuna Club fame, not so very many anglers have captured a blue-button
+tuna. I vowed I did not care in particular about it, but whenever we ran
+across a school of tuna I acted like a boy.</p>
+
+<p>A good many tuna fell to my rod during these <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span>seasons. During the
+present season, to be exact, I caught twenty-two. This is no large
+number for two months&#8217; fishing. Boschen caught about one hundred; Jump,
+eighty-four; Hooper, sixty. Among these tuna I fought were three that
+stand out strikingly. One seventy-three-pounder took fifty minutes of
+hard fighting to subdue; a ninety-one-pounder took one hour fifty; and
+the third, after two hours and fifty minutes, got away. It seems, and
+was proved later, that the number fifty figured every time I hooked one
+of the long, slim, hard-fighting male tuna.</p>
+
+<p>Beginning late in June, for six weeks tuna were caught almost every day,
+some days a large number being taken. But big ones were scarce. Then one
+of the Tuna Club anglers began to bring in tuna that weighed well over
+one hundred pounds. This fact inspired all the anglers. He would slip
+out early in the morning and return late at night. Nobody knew where his
+boatman was finding these fish. More than one boatman tried to follow
+him, but in vain. Quite by accident it was discovered that he ran up on
+the north side of the island, clear round the west end. When he was
+discovered on the west side he at once steered toward Clemente Island,
+evidently hoping to mislead his followers. This might have succeeded but
+for the fact that both Bandini and Adams hooked big tuna before they had
+gone a mile. Then the jig was up. That night Adams came in with a
+one-hundred-and-twenty-and a one-hundred-and-thirty-six-pound tuna, and
+Bandini brought the record for this season&mdash;one hundred and forty-nine
+pounds.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span>Next day we were all out there on the west side, a few miles offshore.
+The ocean appeared to be full of blackfish. They are huge, black marine
+creatures, similar to a porpoise in movement, but many times larger, and
+they have round, blunt noses that look like battering-rams. Some seemed
+as big as gunboats, and when they heaved up on the swells we could see
+the white stripes below the black. I was inclined to the belief that
+this species was the orca, a whale-killing fish. Boatmen and deep-sea
+men report these blackfish to be dangerous and had better be left alone.
+They certainly looked ugly. We believed they were chasing tuna.</p>
+
+<p>The channel that day contained more whales than I ever saw before at one
+time. We counted six pairs in sight. I saw as many as four of the
+funnel-like whale spouts of water on the horizon at once. It was very
+interesting to watch these monsters of the deep. Once when we were all
+on top of the boat we ran almost right upon two whales. The first
+spouted about fifty feet away. The sea seemed to open up, a terrible
+roar issued forth, then came a cloud of spray and rush of water. Then we
+saw another whale just rising a few yards ahead. My hair stood up stiff.
+Captain Dan yelled, leaped down to reverse the engine. The whale saw us
+and swerved. Dan&#8217;s action and the quickness of the whale prevented a
+collision. As it was, I looked down in the clear water and saw the huge,
+gleaming, gray body of the whale as he passed. That was another sight to
+record in the book of memory. The great flukes of his tail moved with
+surprising swiftness and the water bulged on the surface. Then <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span>we ran
+close to the neighborhood of a school of whales, evidently feeding. They
+would come up and blow, and then sound. To see a whale sound and then
+raise his great, broad, shining flukes in the air, high above the water,
+is in my opinion the most beautiful spectacle to be encountered upon the
+ocean. Up to this day, during five seasons, I had seen three whales
+sound with tails in the air. And upon this occasion I had the exceeding
+good fortune to see seven. I tried to photograph one. We followed a big
+bull. When he came up to blow we saw a yellow moving space on the water,
+then a round, gray, glistening surface, then a rugged snout. Puff! His
+blow was a roar. He rolled on, downward a little; the water surged white
+and green. When he came up to sound he humped his huge back. It was
+shiny, leathery, wonderfully supple. It bent higher and higher in an
+arch. Then this great curve seemed to slide swiftly out of sight and his
+wonderful tail, flat as a floor and wide as a house, emerged to swing
+aloft. The water ran off it in sheets. Then it waved higher, and with
+slow, graceful, ponderous motion sank into the sea. That sight more than
+anything impressed me with the immensity of the ocean, with its mystery
+of life, with the unattainable secrets of the deep.</p>
+
+<p>The tuna appeared to be scattered, and none were on the surface. I had
+one strike that plowed up the sea, showing the difference between the
+strike of a big tuna and that of a little one. He broke my line on the
+first rush. Then I hooked another and managed to stop him. I had a
+grueling battle with him, and at the end of two hours and fifty minutes
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span>he broke my hook. This was a disappointment far beyond reason, but I
+could not help it.</p>
+
+<p>Next day was windy. The one following we could not find the fish, and
+the third day we all concluded they had gone for 1918. I think the fame
+of tuna, the uncertainty of their appearance, the difficulty of
+capturing a big one, are what excite the ambition of anglers. Long
+effort to that end, and consequent thinking and planning and feeling,
+bring about a condition of mind that will be made clear as this story
+progresses.</p>
+
+<p>But Captain Danielson did not give up. The fifth day we ran off the west
+side with several other boats, and roamed the sea in search of fins. No
+anchovies on the surface, no sheerwater ducks, no sharks, nothing to
+indicate tuna. About one o&#8217;clock Captain Dan sheered southwest and we
+ran sixteen miles toward Clemente Island.</p>
+
+<p>It was a perfect day, warm, hazy, with light fog, smooth, heaving,
+opalescent sea. There was no wind. At two thirty not one of the other
+boats was in sight. At two forty Captain Dan sighted a large, dark,
+rippling patch on the water. We ran over closer.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;School of tuna!&#8221; exclaimed the captain, with excitement. &#8220;Big fish! Oh,
+for some wind now to fly the kite!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There&#8217;s another school,&#8221; said my brother, R. C., and he pointed to a
+second darkly gleaming spot on the smooth sea.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve spotted one, too!&#8221; I shouted.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The ocean&#8217;s alive with tuna&mdash;big tuna!&#8221; boomed Captain Dan. &#8220;Here we
+are alone, blue-button fish everywhere&mdash;and no wind.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span>&#8220;We&#8217;ll watch the fish and wait for wind,&#8221; I said.</p>
+
+<p>This situation may not present anything remarkable to most fishermen.
+But we who knew the game realized at once that this was an experience of
+a lifetime. We counted ten schools of tuna near at hand, and there were
+so many farther on that they seemed to cover the sea.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Boys,&#8221; said Captain Dan, &#8220;here&#8217;s the tuna we heard were at Anacapa
+Island last week. The Japs netted hundreds of tons. They&#8217;re working
+southeast, right in the middle of the channel, and haven&#8217;t been inshore
+at all. It&#8217;s ninety miles to Anacapa. Some traveling!... That school
+close to us is the biggest school I ever saw and I believe they&#8217;re the
+biggest fish.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Run closer to them,&#8221; I said to him.</p>
+
+<p>We ran over within fifty feet of the edge of the school, stopped the
+boat, and all climbed up on top of the deck.</p>
+
+<p>Then we beheld a spectacle calculated to thrill the most phlegmatic
+fisherman. It simply enraptured me, and I think I am still too close to
+it to describe it well. The dark-blue water, heaving in great, low, lazy
+swells, showed a roughened spot of perhaps two acres in extent. The sun,
+shining over our shoulders, caught silvery-green gleams of fish,
+flashing wide and changing to blue. Long, round, bronze backs deep under
+the surface, caught the sunlight. Blue fins and tails, sharp and curved,
+like sabers, cleared the water. Here a huge tuna would turn on his side,
+gleaming broad and bright, and there another would roll on the surface,
+breaking water like a tarpon with a slow, heavy souse.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span>&#8220;Look at the leaders,&#8221; said Captain Dan. &#8220;I&#8217;ll bet they&#8217;re
+three-hundred-pound fish.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>I saw then that the school, lazy as they seemed, were slowly following
+the leaders, rolling and riding the swells. These leaders threw up
+surges and ridges on the surface. They plowed the water.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What&#8217;d happen if we skipped a flying-fish across the water in front of
+those leaders?&#8221; I asked Captain Dan.</p>
+
+<p>He threw up his hands. &#8220;You&#8217;d see a German torpedo explode.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Say! tuna are no relation to Huns!&#8221; put in my brother.</p>
+
+<p>It took only a few moments for the school to drift by us. Then we ran
+over to another school, with the same experience. In this way we visited
+several of these near-by schools, all of which were composed of large
+tuna. Captain Dan, however, said he believed the first two schools,
+evidently leaders of this vast sea of tuna, contained the largest fish.
+For half an hour we fooled around, watching the schools and praying for
+wind to fly the kite. Captain Dan finally trolled our baits through one
+school, which sank without rewarding us with a strike.</p>
+
+<p>At this juncture I saw a tiny speck of a boat way out on the horizon.
+Captain Dan said it was Shorty&#8217;s boat with Adams. I suggested that, as
+we had to wait for wind to fly the kite, we run in and attract Shorty&#8217;s
+attention. I certainly wanted some one else to see those magnificent
+schools of tuna. Forthwith we ran in several miles until we attracted
+the attention of the boatman Captain Dan had taken to be Shorty. But it
+turned out to be <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span>somebody else, and my good intentions also turned out
+to my misfortune.</p>
+
+<p>Then we ran back toward the schools of tuna. On the way my brother
+hooked a Marlin swordfish that leaped thirty-five times and got away.
+After all those leaps he deserved to shake the hook. We found the tuna
+milling and lolling around, slowly drifting and heading toward the
+southeast. We also found a very light breeze had begun to come out of
+the west. Captain Dan wanted to try to get the kite up, but I objected
+on the score that if we could fly it at all it would only be to drag a
+bait behind the boat. That would necessitate running through the schools
+of tuna, and as I believed this would put them down, I wanted to wait
+for enough wind to drag a bait at right angles with the boat. This is
+the proper procedure, because it enables an angler to place his bait
+over a school of tuna at a hundred yards or more from the boat. It
+certainly is the most beautiful and thrilling way to get a strike.</p>
+
+<p>So we waited. The boatman whose attention we had attracted had now come
+up and was approaching the schools of tuna some distance below us. He
+put out a kite that just barely flew off the water and it followed
+directly in the wake of his boat. We watched this with disgust, but
+considerable interest, and we were amazed to see one of the anglers in
+that boat get a strike and hook a fish.</p>
+
+<p>That put us all in a blaze of excitement. Still we thought the strike
+they got might just have been lucky. In running down farther, so we
+could come back against the light breeze, we ran pretty close <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span>to the
+school out of which the strike had been gotten. Captain Dan stood up to
+take a good look.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;They&#8217;re hundred-pounders, all right,&#8221; he said. &#8220;But they&#8217;re not as big
+as the tuna in those two leading schools. I&#8217;m glad those ginks in that
+boat are tied up with a tuna for a spell.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>I took a look at the fisherman who was fighting the tuna. Certainly I
+did not begrudge him one, but somehow, so strange are the feelings of a
+fisherman that I was mightily pleased to see that he was a novice at the
+game, was having his troubles, and would no doubt be a long, long time
+landing his tuna. My blood ran cold at the thought of other anglers
+appearing on the scene, and anxiously I scanned the horizon. No boat in
+sight! If I had only known then what sad experience taught me that
+afternoon I would have been tickled to pieces to see all the great
+fishermen of Avalon tackle this school of big tuna.</p>
+
+<p>Captain Dan got a kite up a little better than I had hoped for. It was
+not good, but it was worth trying. My bait, even on a turn of the boat,
+skipped along just at the edge of the wake of the boat. And the wake of
+a boat will almost always put a school of tuna down.</p>
+
+<p>We headed for the second school. My thrilling expectancy was tinged and
+spoiled with doubt. I skipped my bait in imitation of a flying-fish
+leaping and splashing along. We reached the outer edge of the school.
+Slowly the little boils smoothed out. Slowly the big fins sank. So did
+my heart. We passed the school. They all sank. And then when Captain Dan
+swore and I gave up there came a <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span>great splash back of my bait. I yelled
+and my comrades echoed me. The tuna missed. I skipped the bait. A
+sousing splash&mdash;and another tuna had my bait. My line sagged. I jerked
+hard. But too late! The tuna threw the hook before it got a hold.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;They&#8217;re hungry!&#8221; exclaimed Dan. &#8220;Hurry&mdash;reel the kite in. We&#8217;ll get
+another bait on quick.... Look! that school is coming up again! They&#8217;re
+not shy of boats. Boys, there&#8217;s something doing.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Captain Dan&#8217;s excitement augmented my own. I sensed an unusual
+experience that had never before befallen me.</p>
+
+<p>The school of largest fish was farther to the west. The breeze lulled.
+We could not fly the kite except with the motion and direction of the
+boat. It was exasperating. When we got close the kite flopped down into
+the water. Captain Dan used language. We ran back, picked up the kite.
+It was soaked, of course, and would not fly. While Dan got out a new
+kite, a large silk one which we had not tried yet, we ran down to the
+eastward of the second school. To our surprise and delight this untried
+kite flew well without almost any wind.</p>
+
+<p>We got in position and headed for the school. I was using a big hook
+half embedded near the tail of the flying-fish and the leader ran
+through the bait. It worked beautifully. A little jerk of my rod sent
+the bait skittering over the water, for all the world like a live
+flying-fish. I knew now that I would get another strike. Just as we
+reached a point almost opposite the school of tuna they headed across
+our bow, so that it seemed inevitable <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span>we must either run them down or
+run too close. My spirit sank to zero. Something presaged bad luck. I
+sensed disaster. I fought the feeling, but it persisted. Captain Dan
+swore. My brother shouted warnings from over us where he sat on top. But
+we ran right into the leaders. The school sank. I was sick and furious.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Jump your bait! It&#8217;s not too late,&#8221; called Dan.</p>
+
+<p>I did so. Smash! The water seemed to curl white and smoke. A tuna had my
+bait. I jerked. I felt him. He threw the hook. Half the bait remained
+upon it. Smash! A great boil and splash! Another tuna had that. I tried
+to jerk. But both kite and tuna pulling made my effort feeble. This one
+also threw out the hook. It came out with a small piece of mangled red
+flying-fish still hanging to it. Instinctively I jumped that remains of
+my bait over the surface. Smash! The third tuna cleaned the hook.</p>
+
+<p>Captain Dan waxed eloquent and profane.</p>
+
+<p>My brother said, &#8220;What do you know about that?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>As for myself, I was stunned one second and dazzled the next. Three
+strikes on one bait! It seemed disaster still clogged my mind, but what
+had already happened was new and wonderful. Half a mile below us I saw
+the angler still fighting the tuna he had hooked. I wanted him to get
+it, but I hoped he would be all afternoon on the job.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Hurry, Cap!&#8221; was all I said.</p>
+
+<p>Ordinarily Dan is the swiftest of boatmen. To-day he was slower than
+molasses and all he did went wrong. What he said about the luck was more
+than melancholy. I had no way to gauge my own feelings <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span>because I had
+never had such an experience before. Nor had I ever heard or read of any
+one having it.</p>
+
+<p>We got a bait on and the kite out just in time to reach the first and
+larger school. I was so excited that I did not see we were heading right
+into it. My intent gaze was riveted upon my bait as it skimmed the
+surface. The swells were long, low, smooth mounds. My bait went out of
+sight behind one. It was then I saw water fly high and I felt a tug. I
+jerked so hard I nearly fell over. My bait shot over the top of the
+swell. Then that swell opened and burst&mdash;a bronze back appeared. He
+missed the hook. Another tuna, also missing, leaped into the air&mdash;a fish
+of one hundred and fifty pounds, glittering green and silver and blue,
+jaws open, fins stiff, tail quivering, clear and clean-cut above the
+surface. Again we all yelled. Actually before he fell there was another
+smash and another tuna had my bait. This one I hooked. His rush was
+irresistible. I released the drag on the reel. It whirled and whizzed.
+The line threw a fine spray into my face. Then the tip of my rod flew up
+with a jerk, the line slacked. We all knew what that meant. I reeled in.
+The line had broken above the few feet of double line which we always
+used next the leader. More than ever disaster loomed over me. The
+feeling was unshakable now.</p>
+
+<p>Nevertheless, I realized that wonderful good fortune attended us in the
+fact that the school of big tuna had scarcely any noticeable fear of the
+boat; they would not stay down, and they were ravenous.</p>
+
+<p>On our next run down upon them I had a smashing <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span>strike. The tuna threw
+the hook. Another got the bait and I hooked him. He sounded. The line
+broke. We tried again. No sooner had we reached the school when the
+water boiled and foamed at my bait. Before I could move that tuna
+cleaned the hook. Our next attempt gained another sousing strike. But he
+was so swift and I was so slow that I could not fasten to him.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He went away from here,&#8221; my brother said, with what he meant for
+comedy. But it was not funny.</p>
+
+<p>Captain Dan then put on a double hook, embedding it so one hook stood
+clear of the bait. We tested my line with the scales and it broke at
+fifty-three pounds, which meant it was a good strong line. The breeze
+lulled and fanned at intervals. It seemed, however, we did not need any
+breeze. We had edged our school of big tuna away from the other schools,
+and it was milling on the surface, lazily and indifferently. But what
+latent speed and power lay hidden in that mass of lolling tuna.</p>
+
+<p>R. C. from his perch above yelled: &#8220;Look out! You&#8217;re going to drag your
+bait in front of the leaders this time!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>That had not happened yet. I glowed in spite of the fact that I was
+steeped in gloom. We were indeed heading most favorably for the leaders.
+Captain Dan groaned. &#8220;Never seen the like of this!&#8221; he added. These
+leaders were several yards apart, as could be told by the blunt-nosed
+ridges of water they shoved ahead of them. That was another moment added
+to the memorable moments of my fishing years. It was strained suspense.
+Hope would not die, but disaster loomed like a shadow.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span>Before I was ready, before we expected anything, before we got near
+these leaders, a brilliant, hissing, white splash burst out of the sea,
+and a tuna of magnificent proportions shot broadside along and above the
+surface, sending the spray aloft, and he hit that bait with incredible
+swiftness, raising a twenty-foot-square, furious splash as he hooked
+himself. I sat spellbound. I heard my line whistling off the reel. But I
+saw only that swift-descending kite. So swiftly did the tuna sound that
+the kite shot down as if it had been dropping lead. My line broke and my
+rod almost leaped out of my hands.</p>
+
+<p>We were all silent a moment. The school of tuna showed again, puttering
+and fiddling around, with great blue-and-green flashes caught by the
+sun.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That one weighed about two hundred and fifty,&#8221; was all Captain Dan
+said.</p>
+
+<p>R. C. remarked facetiously, evidently to cheer me, &#8220;Jakey, you picks de
+shots out of that plue jay an&#8217; we makes ready for anudder one!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Say, do you imagine you can make me laugh!&#8221; I asked, in tragic scorn.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Well, if you could have seen yourself when that tuna struck you&#8217;d have
+laughed,&#8221; replied he.</p>
+
+<p>While Dan steered the boat R. C. got out on the bow and gaffed the kite.
+I watched the tuna tails standing like half-simitars out of the smooth,
+colored water. The sun was setting in a golden haze spotted by pink
+clouds. The wind, if anything, was softer than ever; in fact, we could
+not feel it unless we headed the boat into it. The fellow below us was
+drifting off farther, still plugging at his tuna.</p>
+
+<p>Captain Dan put the wet kite on the deck to dry <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span>and got out another
+silk one. It soared aloft so easily that I imagined our luck was
+changing. Vain fisherman&#8217;s delusion! Nothing could do that. There were
+thousands of tons&mdash;actually thousands of tons of tuna in that three-mile
+stretch of ruffled water, but I could not catch one. It was a settled
+conviction. I was reminded of what Enos, the Portuguese boatman,
+complained to an angler he had out, &#8220;You mos&#8217; unluck&#8217; fisherman I ever
+see!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>We tried a shorter kite-line and a shorter length of my line, and we ran
+down upon that mess of tuna once more. It was strange&mdash;and foolish&mdash;how
+we stuck to that school of biggest fish. This time Dan headed right into
+the thick of them. Out of the corners of my eyes I seemed to see tuna
+settling down all around. Suddenly my brother yelled.</p>
+
+<p>Zam! That was a huge loud splash back of my bait. The tuna missed. R. C.
+yelled again. Captain Dan followed suit:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;He&#8217;s after it!... Oh, he&#8217;s the biggest yet!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Then I saw a huge tuna wallowing in a surge round my bait. He heaved up,
+round and big as a barrel, flashing a wide bar of blue-green, and he got
+the hook. If he had been strangely slow he was now unbelievably swift.
+His size gave me panic. I never moved, and he hooked himself. Straight
+down he shot and the line broke.</p>
+
+<p>My brother&#8217;s sympathy now was as sincere as Captain Dan&#8217;s misery. I
+asked R. C. to take the rod and see if he could do better.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Not much!&#8221; he replied. &#8220;When you get one, then I&#8217;ll try. Stay with &#8217;em,
+now!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Not improbably I would have stayed out until <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span>the tuna quit if that had
+taken all night. Three more times we put up the kite&mdash;three more
+flying-fish we wired on the double hooks&mdash;three more runs we made
+through that tantalizing school of tuna that grew huger and swifter and
+more impossible&mdash;three more smashing wide breaks of water on the
+strike&mdash;and quicker than a flash three more broken lines!</p>
+
+<p>I imagined I was resigned. My words to my silent comrades were even
+cheerful.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Come on. Try again. Where there&#8217;s life there&#8217;s hope. It&#8217;s an
+exceedingly rare experience&mdash;anyway. After all, nothing depends upon my
+catching one of these tuna. It doesn&#8217;t matter.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>All of which attested to the singular state of my mind.</p>
+
+<p>Another kite, another leader and double hook, another bait had to be
+arranged. This took time. My impatience, my nervousness were hard to
+restrain. Captain Dan was pale and grim. I do not know how I looked.
+Only R. C. no longer looked at me.</p>
+
+<p>As we put out the bait we made the discovery that the other anglers, no
+doubt having ended their fight, were running down upon our particular
+school of tuna. This was in line with our luck. Other schools of tuna
+were in sight, but these fellows had to head for ours. It galled me when
+I thought how sportsman-like I had been to attract their attention. We
+aimed to head them off and reach the school first. As we were the
+closest all augured well for our success. But gloom invested whatever
+hopes I had.</p>
+
+<p>We beat the other boat. We had just gotten our <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span>boat opposite the school
+of tuna when Dan yelled: &#8220;Look out for that bunch of kelp! Jump your
+bait over it!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Then I spied the mass of floating seaweed. I knew absolutely that my
+hook was going to snag it. But I tried to be careful, quick, accurate. I
+jumped my bait. It fell short. The hook caught fast in the kelp. In the
+last piece! The kite fluttered like a bird with broken wings and
+dropped. Captain Dan reversed the boat. Then he burst out. Now Dan was a
+big man and he had a stentorian voice, deep like booming thunder. No man
+ever swore as Dan swore then. It was terrible. It was justified. But it
+was funny, and despite all this agony of disappointment, despite the
+other boat heading into the tuna and putting them down, I laughed till I
+cried.</p>
+
+<p>The fishermen in that other boat hooked a fish and broke it off. We saw
+from the excitement on board that they had realized the enormous size of
+these tuna. We hurried to get ready again. It was only needful to drag a
+bait anywhere near that school. And we alternated with the other boat. I
+saw those fishermen get four more strikes and lose the four fish
+immediately. I had even worse luck. In fact, disaster grew and grew. But
+there is no need for me to multiply these instances. The last three
+tunas I hooked broke the double line on the first run. This when I had
+on only a slight drag!</p>
+
+<p>The other boat puddled around in our school and finally put it down for
+good, and, as the other schools had disappeared, we started for home.</p>
+
+<p>This was the most remarkable and unfortunate day I ever had on the sea,
+where many strange fishing <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span>experiences have been mine. Captain Dan had
+never heard of the like in eighteen years as boatman. No such
+large-sized tuna, not to mention numbers, had visited Catalina for many
+years. I had thirteen strikes, not counting more than one strike to a
+bait. Seven fish broke the single line and three the double line,
+practically, I might say, before they had run far enough to cause any
+great strain. And the parting of the double line, where, if a break had
+occurred, it would have come on the single, convinced us that all these
+lines were cut. Cut by other tuna! In this huge school of hungry fish,
+whenever one ran for or with a bait, all the others dove pellmell after
+him. The line, of course, made a white streak in the water. Perhaps the
+tuna bit it off. Perhaps they crowded it off. However they did it, the
+fact was that they cut the line. Probably it would have been impossible
+to catch one of those large tuna on the Tuna Club tackle. I hated to
+think of breaking off hooks in fish, but, after it was too late, I
+remembered with many a thrill the size and beauty and tremendous
+striking energy of those tuna, the wide, white, foamy, furious boils on
+the surface, the lunges when hooked, and the runs swift as bullets.</p>
+
+<p>That experience would never come to me again. It was like watching for
+the rare transformations of nature that must be waited for and which
+come so seldom.</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p>But, such is the persistence of mankind in general and the doggedness of
+fishermen in particular, Captain Dan and I kept on roaming the seas in
+search of tuna. Nothing more was seen or heard of the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span>great drifting
+schools. They had gone down the channel toward Mexico, down with the
+mysterious currents of the sea, fulfilling their mission in life.
+However, different anglers reported good-sized tuna off Seal Rocks and
+Silver Ca&ntilde;on. Several fish were hooked. Mr. Reed brought in a
+one-hundred-and-forty-one-pound tuna that took five hours to land. It
+made a dogged, desperate resistance and was almost unbeatable. Mr. Reed
+is a heavy, powerful man, and he said this tuna gave him the hardest
+task he ever attempted. I wondered what I would have done with one of
+those two-or three-hundred-pounders. There is a difference between
+Pacific and Atlantic tuna. The latter are seacows compared to these blue
+pluggers of the West. I have hooked several very large tuna along the
+Seabright coast, and, though these fish got away, they did not give me
+the battle I have had with small tuna of the Pacific. Mr. Wortheim,
+fishing with my old boatman, Horse-mackerel Sam, landed a
+two-hundred-and-sixty-two-pound Atlantic tuna in less than two hours.
+Sam said the fish made a loggy, rolling, easy fight. Crowninshield, also
+fishing with Sam, caught one weighing three hundred pounds in rather
+short order. This sort of feat cannot be done out here in the Pacific.
+The deep water here may have something to do with it, but the tuna are
+different, if not in species, then in disposition.</p>
+
+<p>My lucky day came after no tuna had been reported for a week. Captain
+Dan and I ran out off Silver Ca&ntilde;on just on a last forlorn hope. The sea
+was rippling white and blue, with a good breeze. No whales showed. We
+left Avalon about one <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span>o&#8217;clock, ran out five miles, and began to fish.
+Our methods had undergone some change. We used a big kite out on three
+hundred yards of line; we tied this line on my leader, and we tightened
+the drag on the reel so that it took a nine-pound pull to start the line
+off. This seemed a fatal procedure, but I was willing to try anything.
+My hope of getting a strike was exceedingly slim. Instead of a
+flying-fish for bait we used a good-sized smelt, and we used hooks big
+and strong and sharp as needles.</p>
+
+<p>We had not been out half an hour when Dan left the wheel and jumped up
+on the gunwale to look at something.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What do you see?&#8221; I asked, eagerly.</p>
+
+<p>He was silent a moment. I dare say he did not want to make any mistakes.
+Then he jumped back to the wheel.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;School of tuna!&#8221; he boomed.</p>
+
+<p>I stood up and looked in the direction indicated, but I could not see
+them. Dan said only the movement on the water could be seen. Good long
+swells were running, rather high, and presently I did see tuna showing
+darkly bronze in the blue water. They vanished. We had to turn the boat
+somewhat, and it began to appear that we would have difficulty in
+putting the bait into the school. So it turned out. We were in the wrong
+quarter to use the wind. I saw the school of tuna go by, perhaps two
+hundred feet from the boat. They were traveling fast, somewhat under the
+surface, and were separated from one another. They were big tuna, but
+nothing near the size of those that had wrecked my tackle and hopes.
+Captain Dan said they were hungry, hunting <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span>fish. To me they appeared
+game, swift, and illusive.</p>
+
+<p>We lost sight of them. With the boat turned fairly into the west wind
+the kite soared, pulling hard, and my bait skipped down the slopes of
+the swells and up over the crests just like a live, leaping little fish.
+It was my opinion that the tuna were running inshore. Dan said they were
+headed west. We saw nothing of them. Again the old familiar
+disappointment knocked at my heart, with added bitterness of past
+defeat. Dan scanned the sea like a shipwrecked mariner watching for a
+sail.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I see them!... There!&#8221; he called. &#8220;They&#8217;re sure traveling fast.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>That stimulated me with a shock. I looked and looked, but I could not
+see the darkened water. Moments passed, during which I stood up,
+watching my bait as it slipped over the waves. I knew Dan would tell me
+when to begin to jump it. The suspense grew to be intense.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;We&#8217;ll catch up with them,&#8221; said Dan, excitedly. &#8220;Everything&#8217;s right
+now. Kite high, pulling hard&mdash;bait working fine. You&#8217;re sure of a
+strike.... When you see one get the bait hook him quick and hard.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The ambition of years, the long patience, the endless efforts, the
+numberless disappointments, and that never-to-be-forgotten day among the
+giant tuna&mdash;these flashed up at Captain Dan&#8217;s words of certainty, and,
+together with the thrilling proximity of the tuna we were chasing, they
+roused in me emotion utterly beyond proportion or reason. This had
+happened to me before, notably in swordfishing, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span>but never had I felt
+such thrills, such tingling nerves, such oppression on my chest, such a
+wild, eager rapture. It would have been impossible, notwithstanding my
+emotional temperament, if the leading up to this moment had not included
+so much long-sustained feeling.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Jump your bait!&#8221; called Dan, with a ring in his voice. &#8220;In two jumps
+you&#8217;ll be in the tail-enders.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>I jerked my rod. The bait gracefully leaped over a swell&mdash;shot along the
+surface, and ended with a splash. Again I jerked. As the bait rose into
+the air a huge angry splash burst just under it, and a broad-backed tuna
+lunged and turned clear over, his tail smacking the water.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Jump it!&#8221; yelled Dan.</p>
+
+<p>Before I could move, a circling smash of white surrounded my bait. I
+heard it. With all my might I jerked. Strong and heavy came the weight
+of the tuna. I had hooked him. With one solid thumping splash he
+sounded. Here was test for line and test for me. I could not resist one
+turn of the thumb-wheel, to ease the drag. He went down with the same
+old incomparable speed. I saw the kite descending. Dan threw out the
+clutch&mdash;ran to my side. The reel screamed. Every tense second, as the
+line whizzed off, I expected it to break. There was no joy, no sport in
+that painful watching. He ran off two hundred feet, then, marvelous to
+see, he slowed up. The kite was still high, pulling hard. What with kite
+and drag and friction of line in the water, that tuna had great strain
+upon him. He ran off a little more, slower this time, then stopped. The
+kite began to flutter.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span>I fell into the chair, jammed the rod-butt into the socket, and began to
+pump and wind.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Doc, you&#8217;re hooked on and you&#8217;ve stopped him!&#8221; boomed Dan. His face
+beamed. &#8220;Look at your legs!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>It became manifest then that my knees were wabbling, my feet puttering
+around, my whole lower limbs shaking as if I had the palsy. I had lost
+control of my lower muscles. It was funny; it was ridiculous. It showed
+just what was my state of excitement.</p>
+
+<p>The kite fluttered down to the water. The kite-line had not broken off,
+and this must add severely to the strain on the fish. Not only had I
+stopped the tuna, but soon I had him coming up, slowly yet rather
+easily. He was directly under the boat. When I had all save about one
+hundred feet of line wound in the tuna anchored himself and would not
+budge for fifteen minutes. Then again rather easily he was raised fifty
+more feet. He acted like any small, hard-fighting fish.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;ve hooked a little one,&#8221; I began. &#8220;That big fellow missed the bait,
+and a small one grabbed it.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Dan would not say so, but he feared just that. What miserable black
+luck! Almost I threw the rod and reel overboard. Some sense, however,
+prevented me from such an absurdity. And as I worked the tuna closer and
+closer I grew absolutely sick with disappointment. The only thing to do
+was to haul this little fish in and go hunt up the school. So I pumped
+and pulled. That half-hour seemed endless and bad business altogether.
+Anger possessed me and I began to work harder. At this juncture Shorty&#8217;s boat
+appeared close to us. Shorty and Adams waved me congratulations, and
+then made motions to Dan to get the direction of the school of tuna.
+That night both Shorty and Adams told me that I was working very hard on
+the fish, too hard to save any strength for a long battle.</p>
+
+<p><a name="illo55" id="illo55"></a></p><div class="figcenter" style="width: 318px;">
+<img src="images/illus311.jpg" class="jpg ispace" width="318" height="500" alt="A BLUE-FINNED PLUGGER OF THE DEEP&mdash;138-POUND TUNA" title="" />
+<span class="caption">A BLUE-FINNED PLUGGER OF THE DEEP&mdash;138-POUND TUNA</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><a name="illo56" id="illo56"></a></p><div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/illus312.jpg" class="ispace jpg" width="500" height="309" alt="AVALON, THE BEAUTIFUL" title="" />
+<span class="caption">AVALON, THE BEAUTIFUL</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span>Captain Dan watched the slow, steady bends of my rod as the tuna
+plugged, and at last he said, &#8220;Doc, it&#8217;s a big fish!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Strange to relate, this did not electrify me. I did not believe it. But
+at the end of that half-hour the tuna came clear to the surface, about
+one hundred feet from us, and there he rode the swells. Doubt folded his
+sable wings! Bronze and blue and green and silver flashes illumined the
+swells. I plainly saw that not only was the tuna big, but he was one of
+the long, slim, hard-fighting species.</p>
+
+<p>Presently he sounded, and I began to work. I was fresh, eager, strong,
+and I meant to whip him quickly. Working on a big tuna is no joke. It is
+a man&#8217;s job. A tuna fights on his side, with head down, and he never
+stops. If the angler rests the tuna will not only rest, too, but he will
+take more and more line. The method is a long, slow lift or pump of
+rod&mdash;then lower the rod quickly and wind the reel. When the tuna is
+raised so high he will refuse to come any higher, and then there is a
+deadlock. There lives no fisherman but what there lives a tuna that can
+take the conceit and the fight out of him.</p>
+
+<p>For an hour I worked. I sweat and panted and burned in the hot sun; and
+I enjoyed it. The sea was beautiful. A strong, salty fragrance, wet and
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span>sweet, floated on the breeze. Catalina showed clear and bright, with
+its colored cliffs and yellow slides and dark ravines. Clemente Island
+rose a dark, long, barren, lonely land to the southeast. The clouds in
+the west were like trade-wind clouds, white, regular, with level
+base-line.</p>
+
+<p>At the end of the second hour I was tiring. There came a subtle change
+of spirit and mood. I had never let up for a minute. Captain Dan praised
+me, vowed I had never fought either broadbill or roundbill swordfish so
+consistently hard, but he cautioned me to save myself.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That&#8217;s a big tuna,&#8221; he said, as he watched my rod.</p>
+
+<p>Most of the time we drifted. Some of the time Dan ran the boat to keep
+even with the tuna, so he could not get too far under the stern and cut
+the line. At intervals the fish appeared to let up and at others he
+plugged harder. This I discovered was merely that he fought the hardest
+when I worked the hardest. Once we gained enough on him to cut the
+tangle of kite-line that had caught some fifty feet above my leader.
+This afforded cause for less anxiety.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I&#8217;m afraid of sharks,&#8221; said Dan.</p>
+
+<p>Sharks are the bane of tuna fishermen. More tuna are cut off by sharks
+than are ever landed by anglers. This made me redouble my efforts, and
+in half an hour more I was dripping wet, burning hot, aching all over,
+and so spent I had to rest. Every time I dropped the rod on the gunwale
+the tuna took line&mdash;zee&mdash;zee&mdash;zee&mdash;foot by foot and yard by yard. My
+hands were cramped; my thumbs red <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span>and swollen, almost raw. I asked Dan
+for the harness, but he was loath to put it on because he was afraid I
+would break the fish off. So I worked on and on, with spurts of fury and
+periods of lagging.</p>
+
+<p>At the end of three hours I was in bad condition. I had saved a little
+strength for the finish, but I was in danger of using that up before the
+crucial moment arrived. Dan had to put the harness on me. I knew
+afterward that it saved the day. By the aid of the harness, putting my
+shoulders into the lift, I got the double line over the reel, only to
+lose it. Every time the tuna was pulled near the boat he sheered off,
+and it did not appear possible for me to prevent it. He got into a habit
+of coming to the surface about thirty feet out, and hanging there, in
+plain sight, as if he was cabled to the rocks of the ocean. Watching him
+only augmented my trouble. It had ceased long ago to be fun or sport or
+game. It was now a fight and it began to be torture. My hands were all
+blisters, my thumbs raw. The respect I had for that tuna was great.</p>
+
+<p>He plugged down mostly, but latterly he began to run off to each side,
+to come to the surface, showing his broad green-silver side, and then he
+weaved to and fro behind the boat, trying to get under it. Captain Dan
+would have to run ahead to keep away from him. To hold what gain I had
+on the tuna was at these periods almost unendurable. Where before I had
+sweat, burned, throbbed, and ached, I now began to see red, to grow
+dizzy, to suffer cramps and nausea and exceeding pain.</p>
+
+<p>Three hours and a half showed the tuna slower, heavier, higher, easier.
+He had taken us fifteen <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span>miles from where we had hooked him. He was
+weakening, but I thought I was worse off than he was. Dan changed the
+harness. It seemed to make more effort possible.</p>
+
+<p>The floor under my feet was wet and slippery from the salt water
+dripping off my reel. I could not get any footing. The bend of that rod
+downward, the ceaseless tug, tug, tug, the fear of sharks, the
+paradoxical loss of desire now to land the tuna, the change in my
+feeling of elation and thrill to wonder, disgust, and utter weariness of
+spirit and body&mdash;all these warned me that I was at the end of my tether,
+and if anything could be done it must be quickly.</p>
+
+<p>Relaxing, I took a short rest. Then nerving myself to be indifferent to
+the pain, and yielding altogether to the brutal instinct this
+tuna-fighting rouses in a fisherman, I lay back with might and main.
+Eight times I had gotten the double line over the reel. On the ninth I
+shut down, clamped with my thumbs, and froze there. The wire leader sung
+like a telephone wire in the cold. I could scarcely see. My arms
+cracked. I felt an immense strain that must break me in an instant.</p>
+
+<p>Captain Dan reached the leader. Slowly he heaved. The strain upon me was
+released. I let go the reel, threw off the drag, and stood up. There the
+tuna was, the bronze-and-blue-backed devil, gaping, wide-eyed, shining
+and silvery as he rolled, a big tuna if there ever was one, and he was
+conquered.</p>
+
+<p>When Dan lunged with the gaff the tuna made a tremendous splash that
+deluged us. Then Dan <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span>yelled for another gaff. I was quick to get it.
+Next it was for me to throw a lasso over that threshing tail. When I
+accomplished this the tuna was ours. We hauled him up on the stern,
+heaving, thumping, throwing water and blood; and even vanquished he was
+magnificent. Three hours and fifty minutes! The number fifty stayed with
+me. As I fell back in a chair, all in, I could not see for my life why
+any fisherman would want to catch more than one large tuna.</p>
+
+<hr class="large" /><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span></p>
+<h2><a name="XIV" id="XIV"></a>XIV</h2>
+
+<h3>AVALON, THE BEAUTIFUL</h3>
+
+<p>If you are a fisherman, and aspire to the study or conquest of the big
+game of the sea, go to Catalina Island once before it is too late.</p>
+
+<p>The summer of 1917 will never be forgotten by those fishermen who were
+fortunate enough to be at Avalon. Early in June, even in May, there were
+indications that the first record season in many years might be
+expected. Barracuda and white sea-bass showed up in great schools; the
+ocean appeared to be full of albacore; yellowtail began to strike all
+along the island shores and even in the bay of Avalon; almost every day
+in July sight of broadbill swordfish was reported, sometimes as many as
+ten in a day; in August the blue-fin tuna surged in, school after
+school, in vast numbers; and in September returned the Marlin, or
+roundbill swordfish that royal-purple swashbuckler of the Pacific.</p>
+
+<p>This extraordinary run of fish appeared like old times to the boatmen
+and natives who could look back over many Catalina years. The cause, of
+course, was a favorable season when the sardines and anchovies came to
+the island in incalculable numbers. Acres and acres of these little bait
+fish drifted helplessly to and fro, back and forth with <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span>the tides, from
+Seal Rocks to the west end. These schools were not broken up until the
+advent of the voracious tuna; and when they arrived the ocean soon
+seemed littered with small, amber-colored patches, each of which was a
+densely packed mass of sardines or anchovies, drifting with the current.
+It has not yet been established that swordfish feed on these schools,
+but the swordfish were there in abundance, at any rate; and it was
+reasonable to suppose that some of the fish they feed on were in pursuit
+of the anchovies.</p>
+
+<p>Albacore feeding on the surface raise a thin, low, white line of water
+or multitudes of slight, broken splashes. Tuna raise a white wall,
+tumbling and spouting along the horizon; and it is a sight not soon to
+be forgotten by a fisherman. Near at hand a big school of feeding tuna
+is a thrilling spectacle. They move swiftly, breaking water as they
+smash after the little fish, and the roar can be heard quite a distance.
+The wall of white water seems full of millions of tiny, glinting fish,
+leaping frantically from the savage tuna. And when the sunlight shines
+golden through this wall of white spray, and the great bronze and silver
+and blue tuna gleam for an instant, the effect is singularly exciting
+and beautiful.</p>
+
+<p>All through August and much of September these schools of tuna,
+thousands of them, ranted up and down the coast of Catalina, thinning
+out the amber patches of anchovies, and affording the most magnificent
+sport to anglers.</p>
+
+<p>These tuna may return next year and then again they may not return for
+ten years. Some time again they will swing round the circle or drift
+with the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span>currents, in that mysterious and inscrutable nature of the
+ocean. And if a fisherman can only pick out the year or have the
+obsession to go back season after season he will some day see these
+wonderful schools again.</p>
+
+<p>But as for the other fish&mdash;swordfish, white sea-bass, yellowtail, and
+albacore&mdash;their doom has been spelled, and soon they will be no more.
+That is why I say to fishermen if they want to learn something about
+these incomparable fish they must go soon to Catalina before it is too
+late.</p>
+
+<p>The Japs, the Austrians, the round-haul nets, the canneries and the
+fertilizer-plants&mdash;that is to say, foreigners and markets, greed and
+war, have cast their dark shadow over beautiful Avalon. The intelligent,
+far-seeing boatmen all see it. My boatman, Captain Danielson, spoke
+gloomily of the not distant time when his occupation would be gone. And
+as for the anglers who fish at Catalina, some of them see it and many of
+them do not. The standard raised at Avalon has been to haul in as many
+of the biggest fish in the least possible time. One famous fisherman
+brought in thirteen tuna&mdash;nine hundred and eighty-six pounds of
+tuna&mdash;that he caught in one day! This is unbelievable, yet it is true.
+Another brought in eleven tuna in one day. These fishermen are
+representative of the coterie who fish for records. All of them are big,
+powerful men, and when they hook a fish they will not give him a foot of
+line if they can help it. They horse him in, and if they can horse him
+in before he wakes up to real combat they are the better pleased. All of
+which is to say that the true motive (or pleasure, if it can be such) is
+the instinct to kill. I have observed this in many fishermen. Any one
+who imagines that man has advanced much beyond the savage stage has only
+carefully to observe fishermen.</p>
+
+<p><a name="illo57" id="illo57"></a></p><div class="figcenter" style="width: 313px;">
+<img src="images/illus321.jpg" class="ispace jpg" width="313" height="500" alt="THE OLD AVALON BARGE WHERE THE GULLS FISH AND SCREAM" title="" />
+<span class="caption">THE OLD AVALON BARGE WHERE THE GULLS FISH AND SCREAM</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><a name="illo58" id="illo58"></a></p><div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/illus322.jpg" class="ispace jpg" width="500" height="293" alt="THE END OF THE DAY OFF CATALINA ISLAND" title="" />
+<span class="caption">THE END OF THE DAY OFF CATALINA ISLAND</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span>I have demonstrated the practicability of letting Marlin swordfish go
+after they were beaten, but almost all of the boatmen will not do it.
+The greater number of swordfish weigh under two hundred pounds, and when
+exhausted and pulled up to the boat they can be freed by cutting the
+wire leader close to the hook. Probably all these fish would live. A
+fisherman will have his fun seeing and photographing the wonderful
+leaps, and conquering the fish, and when all this is over it would be
+sportsman-like to let him go. Marlin are not food fish, and they are
+thrown to the sharks. During 1918, however, many were sold as food fish.
+It seems a pity to treat this royal, fighting, wonderful, purple-colored
+fish in this way. But the boatmen will not free them. My boatman claimed
+that his reputation depended upon the swordfish he caught; and that in
+Avalon no one would believe fish were caught unless brought to the dock.
+It was his bread and butter. His reputation brought him new fishermen,
+and so he could not afford to lose it. Nevertheless, he was persuaded to
+do it in 1918. The fault, then, does not lie with the boatman.</p>
+
+<p>The Japs are the greatest market fishermen in the world. And some five
+hundred boats put out of San Pedro every day, to scour the ocean for
+&#8220;the chicken of the sea,&#8221; as albacore are advertised to the millions of
+people who are always hungry. It <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span>must be said that the Japs mostly fish
+square. They use a hook, and a barbless hook at that. Usually four Japs
+constitute the crew of one of these fast eighty-horse-power motor-boats.
+They roam the sea with sharp eyes ever alert for that thin white line on
+the horizon, the feeding albacore. Their method of fishing is unique and
+picturesque. When they sight albacore they run up on the school and slow
+down.</p>
+
+<p>In the stern of the boat stands a huge tank, usually painted red. I have
+become used to seeing dots of red all over the ocean. This tank is kept
+full of fresh sea-water by a pump connected with the engine, and it is
+used to keep live bait&mdash;no other than the little anchovies. One Jap,
+using a little net, dips up live bait and throws them overboard to the
+albacore. Another Jap beats on the water with long bamboo poles, making
+splashes. The other two Japs have short, stiff poles with a wire
+attached and the barbless hook at the end. They put on a live bait and
+toss it over. Instantly they jerk hard, and two big white albacore, from
+fifteen to thirty pounds, come wiggling up on to the stern of the boat.
+Down goes the pole and whack! goes a club. It is all done with swift
+mechanical precision. It used to amaze me and fill me with sadness. If
+the Japs could hold the school of albacore they would very soon load the
+boat. But usually a school of albacore cannot be held long.</p>
+
+<p>You cannot fish in the channel any more without encountering these Jap
+boats. Once at one time in 1917 I saw one hundred and thirty-two boats.
+Most of them were fishing! They ran to and fro <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span>over the ocean, chasing
+every white splash, and they make an angler&#8217;s pleasure taste bitter.</p>
+
+<p>Fortunately the Japs had let the tuna alone, for the simple and good
+reason that they had not found a way to catch the wise blue-fins. But
+they will find a way! Yet they drove the schools down, and that was
+almost as bad. As far as swordfish are concerned, it is easy to see what
+will happen, now that the albacore have become scarce. Broadbill
+swordfish are the finest food fish in the sea. They can be easily
+harpooned by these skilful Japs. And so eventually they will be killed
+and driven away. This misfortune may not come at once, but it will come.</p>
+
+<p>In this connection it is interesting to note that I tried to photograph
+one of the Austrian crews in action. But Captain Dan would not let me
+get near enough to take a picture. There is bad blood between Avalon
+boatmen and these foreign market fishermen. Shots had been exchanged
+more than once. Captain Dan kept a rifle on board. This news sort of
+stirred me. And I said: &#8220;Run close to that bunch, Cap. Maybe they&#8217;ll
+take a peg at me!&#8221; But he refused to comply, and I lost a chance to
+serve my country!</p>
+
+<p>The Japs, however, are square fishermen, mostly, and I rather admire
+those albacore-chasers, who at least give the fish a chance. Some of
+them use nets, and against them and the Austrian round-haul netters I am
+exceedingly bitter. These round-haul nets, some of them, must be a mile
+long, and they sink two hundred feet in the water. What chance has a
+school of fish against that? They surround a school and there is no
+escape.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span>Clemente Island, the sister island to Catalina, was once a paradise for
+fish, especially the beautiful, gamy yellowtail. But there are no more
+fish there, except Marlin swordfish in August and September. The great,
+boiling schools of yellowtail are gone. Clemente Island has no
+three-mile law protecting it, as has Catalina. But that Catalina law has
+become a farce. It is violated often in broad daylight, and probably all
+night long. One Austrian round-haul netter took seven tons of white
+sea-bass in one haul. Seven tons! Did you ever look at a white sea-bass?
+He is the most beautiful of bass&mdash;slender, graceful, thoroughbred,
+exquisitely colored like a paling opal, and a fighter if there ever was
+one.</p>
+
+<p>What becomes of these seven tons of white sea-bass and all the other
+tons and tons of yellowtail and albacore? That is a question. It needs
+to be answered. During the year 1917 one heard many things. The
+fish-canneries were working day and night, and every can of fish&mdash;the
+whole output had been bought by the government for the soldiers. Very
+good. We are a nation at war. Our soldiers must be properly fed and so
+must our allies. If it takes all the fish in the sea and all the meat on
+the land, we must and will win this war.</p>
+
+<p>But real patriotism is one thing and misstatement is another. If there
+were not so much deceit and greed in connection with this war it would
+be easier to stomach.</p>
+
+<p>As a matter of cold fact, that round-haul netter&#8217;s seven tons of
+beautiful white sea-bass did not go into cans for our good soldiers or
+for our fighting allies. Those seven tons of splendid white sea-bass
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span>went into the fertilizer-plant, where many and many a ton had gone
+before!</p>
+
+<p>It is not hard to comprehend. When they work for the fertilizer-plants
+they do not need ice&mdash;they do not need to hurry to the port to save
+spoiling&mdash;they can stay out till the boat is packed full. So often a
+greater part of the magnificent schools of white sea-bass, albacore, and
+yellowtail&mdash;splendid food fish&mdash;go into the fertilizer-plants to make a
+few foreign-born hogs rich. Hundreds of aliens, many of them hostile to
+the United States, are making big money, which is sent abroad.</p>
+
+<p>I believe that the great kelp-beds round Catalina are the
+spawning-grounds of these fish in question. And not only a
+spawning-ground, but, what is more important, a feeding-ground. And now
+the kelp-beds are being exploited. The government needs potash. Formerly
+our supply of potash came from Germany. But, now that we are not on
+amiable terms with those nice gentle Germans, we cannot get any potash.
+Hence the great, huge kelp-cutters that you hear cut only the tops of
+the kelp-beds. Six feet they say, and it all grows up again quickly. But
+in my opinion the once vast, heaving, wonderful beds of kelp along the
+Clemente and Catalina shores have been cut too deeply. They will die.</p>
+
+<p>Some of my predictions made in 1917 were verified in 1918.</p>
+
+<p>A few scattered schools of albacore appeared in the channel in July. But
+these were soon caught or chased away by the market boats.
+Albacore-fishing was poor in other localities up and down the coast.
+Many of the Jap fishermen sold their boats and <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span>sought other industry.
+It was a fact, and a great pleasure, that an angler could go out for
+tuna without encountering a single market boat on the sea. Maybe the
+albacore did not come this year; maybe they were mostly all caught;
+maybe they were growing shyer of boats; at any event, they were scarce,
+and the reason seems easy to see.</p>
+
+<p>It was significant that the broadbill swordfish did not return to Avalon
+in 1918, as in former years. I saw only one in two months roaming the
+ocean. A few were seen. Not one was caught during my stay on the island.
+Many boatmen and anglers believe that the broadbills follow the
+albacore. It seems safe to predict that when the albacore cease to come
+to Catalina there will not be any fishing for the great flat-sworded
+<i>Xiphias</i>.</p>
+
+<p>The worst that came to pass in 1918, from an angler&#8217;s viewpoint, was
+that the market fishermen found a way to net the blue-fin tuna, both
+large and small. All I could learn was that the nets were lengthened and
+deepened. The Japs got into the great schools of large tuna which
+appeared off Anacapa Island and netted tons and tons of hundred-pound
+tuna. These schools drifted on down the middle of the Clemente Channel,
+and I was the lucky fellow who happened to get among them for one
+memorable day.</p>
+
+<p>Take it all in all, my gloomy prophecies of other years were
+substantiated in 1918, especially in regard to the devastated kelp-beds;
+but there have been a few silver rifts in the black cloud, and it seems
+well to end this book with mention of brighter things.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span>All fish brought into Avalon in 1918 were sold for food.</p>
+
+<p>We inaugurated the releasing of small Marlin swordfish.</p>
+
+<p>There was a great increase in the interest taken in the use of light
+tackle.</p>
+
+<p>We owe the latter stride toward conservation and sportsmanship to Mr.
+James Jump, and to Lone Angler, and to President Coxe of the Tuna Club.
+I had not been entirely in sympathy with their feats of taking Marlin
+swordfish and tuna on light tackle. My objections to the use of too
+light tackle have been cited before in this book. Many fish break away
+on the nine-thread. I know this because I tried it out. Fifteen of those
+small tuna, one after another, broke my line on the first rush. But I
+believe that was my lack of skill with handling of rod and boat.</p>
+
+<p>As for Marlin, I have always known that I could take some of these
+roundbill swordfish on light tackle. But likewise there have been some
+that could not have been taken so, and these are the swordfish I have
+fished for.</p>
+
+<p>Nevertheless, I certainly do not want to detract from Jump&#8217;s
+achievements, as I will show. They have been remarkable. And they have
+attracted wide attention to the possibilities of light tackle. Thus Mr.
+Jump has done conservative angling an estimable good, as well as placed
+himself in a class alone.</p>
+
+<p>The use of light tackle by experts for big game fish of the sea has come
+to be an established practice in American angling. A few years ago, when
+sport with light tackle was exceptional, it required courage <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span>to flaunt
+its use in the faces of fishermen of experience and established
+reputation. Long Key, now the most noted fishing resort on the Atlantic
+coast, was not many years back a place for hand-lines and huge rods and
+tackle, and boat-loads of fish for one man. It has become a resort for
+gentlemen anglers, and its sportsmen&#8217;s club claims such experts and fine
+exponents of angling as Heilner, Lester, Cassiard, Crowninshield,
+Conill, the Schutts, and others, who can safely be trusted to advance
+the standard. Fishermen are like sheep&mdash;they follow the boldest leaders.
+And no one wants to be despised by the elect. Long Key, with its
+isolation, yet easy accession, its beauty and charm, its loneliness and
+quiet, its big game fish, will become the Mecca of high-class
+light tackle anglers, who will in time answer for the ethics and
+sportsmanship of the Atlantic seaboard.</p>
+
+<p>On the Pacific side the light tackle advocates have had a different row
+to hoe. With nothing but keen, fair, honest, and splendid zealousness
+Mr. James Jump has pioneered this sport almost single-handed against the
+heavy tackle record-holder who until recently dominated the Tuna Club
+and the boatmen and the fishing at Avalon. To my shame and regret I
+confess that it took me three years to recognize Jump&#8217;s bigness as an
+angler and his tenacity as a fighter. But I shall make amends. It seems
+when I fished I was steeped in dreams of the sea and the beauty of the
+lonely islands. I am not in Jump&#8217;s class as a fisherman, nor in Lone
+Angler&#8217;s, either. They stand by themselves. But I can write about them,
+and so inspire others.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span>Jump set out in 1914 to catch swordfish on light tackle, and
+incidentally tuna under one hundred pounds. He was ridiculed, scorned,
+scoffed at, made a butt of by this particular heavy tackle angler, and
+cordially hated for his ambitions. Most anglers and boatmen repudiated
+his claims and looked askance at him. Personally I believed Jump might
+catch some swordfish or tuna on light tackle, but only one out of many,
+and that one not the fighting kind. I was wrong. It was Lone Angler who
+first drew my attention to Jump&#8217;s achievements and possibilities.
+President Coxe was alive to them also, and he has rebuilt and
+rejuvenated the Tuna Club on the splendid standard set by its founder,
+Dr. Charles Frederick Holder, and with infinite patience and tact and
+labor, and love of fine angling and good fellowship, he has put down
+that small but mighty clique who threatened the ruin of sport at fair
+Avalon. This has not been public news, but it ought to be and shall be
+public news.</p>
+
+<p>The malignant attack recently made upon Mr. Jump&#8217;s catches of Marlin
+swordfish on light tackle was uncalled for and utterly false. It was an
+obvious and jealous attempt to belittle, discredit, and dishonor one of
+the finest gentlemen sportsmen who ever worked for the good of the game.
+I know and I will swear that Jump&#8217;s capture of the
+three-hundred-and-fourteen-pound Marlin on light tackle in twenty-eight
+minutes was absolutely as honest as it was skilful, as sportsman-like as
+it was wonderful. A number of well-known sportsmen <i>watched</i> him take
+this Marlin. Yet his enemies slandered him, accused him of <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span>using ropes
+and Heaven knows what else! It was vile and it failed.</p>
+
+<p>Jump has performed the apparently impossible. Marlin swordfish hooked on
+light tackle can be handled by an exceedingly skilful angler. They make
+an indescribably spectacular, wonderful fight, on the surface all the
+time, and can be taken as quickly as on heavy tackle. Obviously, then,
+this becomes true of tarpon and sailfish and small tuna. What a world to
+conquer lies before the fine-spirited angler! A few fish on light
+outfits magnifying all the excitement and thrills of many fish on heavy
+outfits! There are no arguments against this, for men who have time and
+money.</p>
+
+<p>We pioneers of light tackle are out of the woods <i>now</i>. There was a
+pride in a fight against odds&mdash;a pride of silence, and a fight of
+example and expressed standards and splendid achievements. But now we
+have followers, disciples who have learned, who have profited, who have
+climbed to the heights, and we are no longer alone. Hence we can scatter
+the news to the four winds and ask for the comradeship of kindred
+spirits, of men who love the sea and the stream and the gameness of a
+fish. The Open Sesame to our clan is just that love, and an ambition to
+achieve higher things. Who fishes just to kill? At Long Key last winter
+I met two self-styled sportsmen. They were eager to convert me to what
+they claimed was the dry-fly class angling of the sea. And it was to jab
+harpoons and spears into porpoises and manatee and sawfish, and be
+dragged about in their boat. The height of their achievements that
+winter had been the harpooning of several sawfish, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span>each of which gave
+birth to a little one while being fought on the harpoon! Ye gods! It
+would never do to record my utterances.</p>
+
+<p>But I record this fact only in the hope of opening the eyes of anglers.
+I have no ax to grind for myself. I have gone through the game, over to
+the fair side, and I want anglers to know.</p>
+
+<p>We are a nation of fishermen and riflemen. Who says the Americans cannot
+shoot or fight? What made that great bunch of Yankee boys turn back the
+Hun hordes? It was the quick eye, the steady nerve, the unquenchable
+spirit of the American boy&mdash;his heritage from his hunter forefathers. We
+are great fishermen&#8217;s sons also, and we can save the fish that are being
+depleted in our waters.</p>
+
+<p>Let every angler who loves to fish think what it would mean to him to
+find the fish were gone. The mackerel are gone, the bluefish are going,
+the menhaden are gone, every year the amberjack and kingfish grow
+smaller and fewer. We must find ways and means to save our game fish of
+the sea; and one of the finest and most sportsman-like ways is to use
+light tackle.</p>
+
+<hr class="medium" />
+
+<p>Wiborn, the Lone Angler, is also in a class by himself. To my mind
+Wiborn is the ideal angler of the sea. I have aspired to his method, but
+realize it is impossible for me. He goes out alone. Hence the name Lone
+Angler. He operates his motor-launch, rigs his tackle and bait and
+teasers, flies his kite, finds the fish, fights the one he hooks, and
+gaffs and hauls it aboard or releases it, all by himself. Any one who
+has had the slightest experience in Pacific <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span>angling can appreciate this
+hazardous, complicated, and laborsome job of the Lone Angler. Any one
+who ever fought a big tuna or swordfish can imagine where he would have
+been without a boatman. After some of my fights with fish Captain
+Danielson has been as tired as I was. His job had been as hard as mine.
+But Wiborn goes out day by day alone, and he has brought in big tuna and
+swordfish. Not many! He is too fine a sportsman to bring in many fish.</p>
+
+<p>And herein is the point I want to drive home in my tribute to Lone
+Angler. No one can say how many fish he catches. He never tells. Always
+he has a fine, wonderful, beautiful day on the water. It matters not to
+him, the bringing home of fish to exhibit. This roused my admiration,
+and also my suspicion. I got to believing that Lone Angler caught many
+more fish than he ever brought home.</p>
+
+<p>So I spied upon him. Whenever chance afforded I watched him through my
+powerful binoculars. He was always busy. His swift boat roamed the seas.
+Always he appeared a white dot on the blue horizon, like the flash of a
+gull. I have watched his kite flutter down; I have seen his boat stop
+and stand still; I have seen sheeted splashes of water near him; and
+more than once I have seen him leaning back with bent rod, working and
+pumping hard. But when he came into Avalon on these specific occasions,
+he brought no tuna, no swordfish&mdash;nothing but a cheerful, enigmatic
+smile and a hopeful question as to the good luck of his friends.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But I saw you hauling away on a fish,&#8221; I ventured to say, once.</p>
+
+<p><a name="illo59" id="illo59"></a></p><div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
+<img src="images/illus335.jpg" class="ispace jpg" width="500" height="287" alt="SEAL ROCKS" title="" />
+<span class="caption">SEAL ROCKS</span>
+</div>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span>&#8220;Oh, that was an old shark,&#8221; he replied, laughing.</p>
+
+<p>Well, it might have been, but I had my doubts. And at the close of 1918
+I believed, though I could not prove, that Lone Angler let the most of
+his fish go free. Hail to Lone Angler! If a man must roam the salt sea
+in search of health and peace, and in a manly, red-blooded
+exercise&mdash;here is the ideal. I have not seen its equal. I envy him&mdash;his
+mechanical skill, his fearlessness of distance and fog and wind, his
+dexterity with kite and rod and wheel, but especially I envy him the
+lonesome rides upon a lonesome sea&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="center">Alone, all alone on a wide, wide sea.</p>
+
+<p>The long, heaving swells, the windy lanes, the flight of the sheerwater
+and the uplifted flukes of the whale, the white wall of tuna on the
+horizon, the leap of the dolphin, the sweet, soft scent that breathes
+from off the sea, the beauty and mystery and color and movement of the
+deep&mdash;these are Lone Angler&#8217;s alone, and he is as rich as if he had
+found the sands of the Pacific to be pearls, the waters nectar, and the
+rocks pure gold.</p>
+
+<p>Happily, neither war nor business nor fish-hogs can ruin the wonderful
+climate of Catalina Island. Nature does not cater to evil conditions.
+The sun and the fog, the great, calm Pacific, the warm Japanese current,
+the pleasant winds&mdash;these all have their tasks, and they perform them
+faithfully, to the happiness of those who linger at Catalina.</p>
+
+<p>Avalon, the beautiful! Somehow even the fire that destroyed half of
+Avalon did not greatly mar <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span>its beauty. At a distance the bay and the
+grove of eucalyptus-trees, the green-and-gold slopes, look as they
+always looked. Avalon has a singular charm outside of its sport of
+fishing. It is the most delightful and comfortable place I ever visited.
+The nights are cool. You sleep under blankets even when over in Los
+Angeles people are suffocating with the heat. At dawn the hills are
+obscured in fog and sometimes this fog is chilly. But early or late in
+the morning it breaks up and rolls away. The sun shines. It is the kind
+of sunshine that dazzles the eye, elevates the spirit, and warms the
+back. And out there rolls the vast blue Pacific&mdash;calm, slowly heaving,
+beautiful, and mysterious.</p>
+
+<p>During the summer months Avalon is gay, colorful, happy, and mirthful
+with its crowds of tourists and summer visitors. The one broad street
+runs along the beach and I venture to say no other street in America can
+compare with it for lazy, idle, comfortable, pleasant, and picturesque
+effects. It is difficult to determine just where the beach begins and
+the street ends, because of the strollers in bathing-suits. Many a time,
+after a long fishing-day on the water, as I was walking up the middle of
+the street, I have been stunned to a gasp by the startling apparition of
+Venus or Hebe or Little Egypt or Annette Kellermann parading
+nonchalantly to and fro. It seems reasonable and fair to give notice
+that broadbill swordfish are not the only dangers to encounter at
+Avalon. I wish they had a policeman there.</p>
+
+<p>But the spirit of Avalon, like the climate, is something to love. It is
+free, careless, mirthful, wholesome, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span>restful, and serene. The resort is
+democratic and indifferent and aloof. Yet there is always mirth, music,
+and laughter. Many and many a night have I awakened, anywhere from ten
+to one, to listen to the low lap of the waves on the beach, the soft
+tones of an Hawaiian ukulele, the weird cry of a nocturnal sea-gull, the
+bark of a sea-lion, or the faint, haunting laugh of some happy girl,
+going by late, perhaps with her lover.</p>
+
+<p>Avalon is so clean and sweet. It is the only place I have been, except
+Long Key, where the omnipresent, hateful, and stinking automobile does
+not obtrude upon real content. Think of air not reeking with gasolene
+and a street safe to cross at any time! Safe, I mean, of course, from
+being run down by some joy-rider. You are liable to encounter one of the
+Loreleis or Aphrodites at any hour from five till sunset. You must risk
+chance of that.</p>
+
+<p>So, in conclusion, let me repeat that if you are a fisherman of any
+degree, and if you aspire to some wonderful experiences with the great
+and vanishing game fish of the Pacific, and if you would love to
+associate with these adventures some dazzling white hot days, and
+unforgetable cool nights where your eyelids get glued with sleep, and
+the fragrant salt breath of the sea, its music and motion and color and
+mystery and beauty&mdash;then go to Avalon before it is too late.</p>
+
+<h3>THE END</h3>
+
+<hr class="large" />
+
+<h3><span class="smcap">Transcriber&#8217;s Note</span></h3>
+
+<p>Minor changes have been made to correct typesetters&#8217; errors; otherwise every effort has been made
+to remain true to the author&#8217;s words and intent.</p>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Tales of Fishes, by Zane Grey
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+</body>
+</html>
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@@ -0,0 +1,8115 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Tales of Fishes, by Zane Grey
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Tales of Fishes
+
+Author: Zane Grey
+
+Release Date: July 7, 2009 [EBook #29346]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TALES OF FISHES ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Brian Janes, D. Alexander and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ TALES _of_ FISHES
+
+ by
+
+ Zane Grey
+
+ _President of the Long Key Fishing Club
+ Honorary Vice-President of the Tuna Club, Avalon_
+
+ _Author of_
+ "The U. P. Trail" "The Desert of Wheat" Etc.
+
+ _Illustrated from Photographs
+ by the author_
+
+ HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS
+ New York and London
+
+
+
+
+ TALES OF FISHES
+
+ Copyright 1919, by Harper & Brothers
+
+ Printed in the United States of America
+
+ Published June, 1919
+
+
+
+
+ CONTENTS
+
+
+ CHAP.                                                             PAGE
+
+          VERSES                                                     0
+
+    I.    BYME-BY-TARPON                                             1
+
+   II.    THE ISLAND OF THE DEAD                                     8
+
+  III.    THE ROYAL PURPLE GAME OF THE SEA                          26
+
+   IV.    TWO FIGHTS WITH SWORDFISH                                 54
+
+    V.    SAILFISH                                                  72
+
+   VI.    GULF STREAM FISHING                                       88
+
+  VII.    BONEFISH                                                 107
+
+ VIII.    SOME RARE FISH                                           136
+
+   IX.    SWORDFISH                                                153
+
+    X.    THE GLADIATOR OF THE SEA                                 180
+
+   XI.    SEVEN MARLIN SWORDFISH IN ONE DAY                        197
+
+  XII.    RANDOM NOTES                                             216
+
+ XIII.    BIG TUNA                                                 221
+
+  XIV.    AVALON, THE BEAUTIFUL                                    250
+
+
+
+
+ ILLUSTRATIONS
+
+
+ THE GREAT COLORED ROLLERS OF THE PACIFIC                _Frontispiece_
+
+ TARPON THROWING HOOK                                    _Facing p_.  2
+
+ LEAPING TARPON                                               "       3
+
+ SAVALO, OR SILVER KING                                       "       4
+
+ THESE WILD FOWL HAVE THE WONDERFUL BEAUTY AND
+ SPEED OF FALCONS                                             "       5
+
+ RABIHORCADO                                                  "      12
+
+ THE BOOBIES HAD NO FEAR OF MAN, BUT BOTH YOUNG
+ AND OLD WOULD PICK WITH THEIR SHARP BILLS                    "      13
+
+ YOUNG BOOBIES                                                "      14
+
+ SUGGESTIVE OF A WILD, WIND-SWEPT ISLAND OF THE SEA           "      15
+
+ NESTS EVERYWHERE IN THE SAND AND MOSS                        "      16
+
+ THESE HUGE BLACK RABIHORCADOS WERE THE LARGEST
+ SPECIES OF FRIGATE OR MAN-OF-WAR BIRD                        "      17
+
+ RABIHORCADO RISING FROM THEIR EGGS                           "      20
+
+ BOOBIES OF ISLA DE LA MUERTE IN THE CARIBBEAN SEA            "      21
+
+ A SWORDFISH LEAPING OFF THE BOLD BLACK SHORE OF CLEMENTE     "      28
+
+ ON THE RAMPAGE                                               "      29
+
+ SWORDFISH ON THE SURFACE                                     "      32
+
+ HOLDING HARD                                                 "      33
+
+ A CLEAN GREYHOUND LEAP                                       "      36
+
+ 316-POUND SWORDFISH                                          "      37
+
+ THE WILD OATS SLOPE OF CLEMENTE                              "      44
+
+ WHERE THE DEEP-BLUE SWELL BOOMS AGAINST THE LAVA
+ WALL OF CLEMENTE ISLAND                                      "      45
+
+ FOUR MARLIN SWORDFISH IN ONE DAY                             "      68
+
+ A BIG SAILFISH BREAKING WATER                                "      69
+
+ FOUR SAILFISH IN ONE DAY ON LIGHT TACKLE                     "      76
+
+ SAILFISH THRESHING ON THE SURFACE                            "      77
+
+ MEMORABLE OF LONG KEY                                        "      84
+
+ LEAPING SAILFISH                                             "      85
+
+ SOLITUDE ON THE SEA                                          "      92
+
+ SUNSET BY THE SEA                                            "      93
+
+ TWIN TIGERS OF THE SEA--THE SAVAGE BARRACUDA                 "      98
+
+ HAPPY PASTIME OF BONEFISHING                                 "      99
+
+ THE GAMEST FISH THAT SWIMS                                   "     110
+
+ A WAAHOO                                                     "     111
+
+ AT LONG KEY, THE LONELY CORAL SHORE WHERE THE SUN
+ SHINES WHITE ALL DAY AND THE STARS SHINE WHITE
+ ALL NIGHT                                                    "     144
+
+ THE FAMOUS STUNT OF A MARLIN SWORDFISH, "WALKING
+ ON HIS TAIL"                                                 "     145
+
+ SURGING IN A HALF-CIRCLE                                     "     148
+
+ BROADBILL SWORDFISH ON THE SURFACE--THE MOST
+ THRILLING SIGHT TO A SEA ANGLER                              "     149
+
+ SHINING IN THE SUNLIGHT                                      "     156
+
+ THROWING WHITE WATER LIKE THE EXPLOSION OF A TORPEDO         "     157
+
+ A LONG, SLIM SAILFISH WIGGLING IN THE AIR                    "     160
+
+ FIGHTING A BROADBILL SWORDFISH                               "     161
+
+ THE ONLY PHOTOGRAPH EVER TAKEN OF LEAPING BROADBILL
+ SWORDFISH                                                    "     180
+
+ XIPHIAS GLADIUS, THE BROADSWORDED GLADIATOR OF THE SEA       "     181
+
+ A STRAIGHTAWAY GREYHOUND LEAP, MARVELOUS FOR ITS
+ SPEED AND WILDNESS                                           "     188
+
+ LIKE A LEAPING SPECTER                                       "     189
+
+ WALKING ON HIS TAIL                                          "     192
+
+ A MAGNIFICENT FLASHING LEAP. THIS PERFECT PICTURE
+ CONSIDERED BY AUTHOR TO BE WORTH HIS FIVE
+ YEARS' LABOR AND PATIENCE                                    "     193
+
+ TIRED OUT--THE LAST SLOW HEAVE                               "     196
+
+ HAULED ABOARD WITH BLOCK AND TACKLE                          "     197
+
+ R. C. ON THE JOB                                             "     204
+
+ 304 POUNDS                                                   "     205
+
+ R. C. GREY AND RECORD MARLIN                                 "     205
+
+ 328-POUND RECORD MARLIN BY R. C. GREY. SHAPELIEST
+ AND MOST BEAUTIFUL SPECIMEN EVER TAKEN                       "     208
+
+ SUNSET OVER CLEMENTE CHANNEL                                 "     209
+
+ A BLUE-FINNED PLUGGER OF THE DEEP--138-POUND TUNA            "     244
+
+ AVALON, THE BEAUTIFUL                                        "     245
+
+ THE OLD AVALON BARGE WHERE THE GULLS FISH AND
+ SCREAM                                                       "     252
+
+ THE END OF THE DAY OFF CATALINA ISLAND                       "     253
+
+ SEAL ROCKS                                                   "     264
+
+
+
+
+ [Illustration: THE GREAT COLORED ROLLERS OF THE PACIFIC]
+
+
+
+
+ZANE GREY
+
+By W. Livingston Larned
+
+
+     Been to Avalon with Grey ... been most everywhere;
+     Chummed with him and fished with him in every Sportsman's
+       lair.
+     Helped him with the white Sea-bass and Barracuda haul,
+     Shared the Tuna's sprayful sport and heard his Hunter-call,
+     Me an' Grey are fishin' friends.... Pals of rod and reel,
+     Whether it's the sort that fights ... or th' humble eel,
+     On and on, through Wonderland ... winds a-blowin' free,
+     Catching all th' fins that grow ... Sportsman Grey an' Me.
+
+     Been to Florida with Zane ... scouting down th' coast;
+     Whipped the deep for Tarpon, too, that natives love th' most.
+     Seen the smiling, Tropic isles that pass, in green review,
+     Gathered cocoanut and moss where Southern skies were blue.
+     Seen him laugh that boyish laugh, when things were goin'
+       right;
+     Helped him beach our little boat and kindle fires at night.
+     Comrades of the Open Way, the Treasure-Trove of Sea,
+     Port Ahoy and who cares where, with Mister Grey an' Me!
+
+     Been to Western lands with Grey ... hunted fox and deer.
+     Seen the Grizzly's ugly face with danger lurkin' near.
+     Slept on needles, near th' sky, and marked th' round moon
+       rise
+     Over purpling peaks of snow that hurt a fellow's eyes.
+     Gone, like Indians, under brush and to some mystic place--
+     Home of red men, long since gone, to join their dying race.
+     Yes ... we've chummed it, onward--outward ... mountain,
+       wood, and Key,
+     At the quiet readin'-table ... Sportsman Grey an' Me.
+
+
+
+
+TALES OF FISHES
+
+
+
+
+I
+
+BYME-BY-TARPON
+
+
+To capture the fish is not all of the fishing. Yet there are
+circumstances which make this philosophy hard to accept. I have in mind
+an incident of angling tribulation which rivals the most poignant
+instant of my boyhood, when a great trout flopped for one sharp moment
+on a mossy stone and then was gone like a golden flash into the depths
+of the pool.
+
+Some years ago I followed Attalano, my guide, down the narrow Mexican
+street of Tampico to the bank of the broad Panuco. Under the rosy dawn
+the river quivered like a restless opal. The air, sweet with the song of
+blackbird and meadowlark, was full of cheer; the rising sun shone in
+splendor on the water and the long line of graceful palms lining the
+opposite bank, and the tropical forest beyond, with its luxuriant
+foliage festooned by gray moss. Here was a day to warm the heart of any
+fisherman; here was the beautiful river, celebrated in many a story;
+here was the famous guide, skilled with oar and gaff, rich in
+experience. What sport I would have; what treasure of keen sensation
+would I store; what flavor of life would I taste this day! Hope burns
+always in the heart of a fisherman.
+
+Attalano was in harmony with the day and the scene. He had a cheering
+figure, lithe and erect, with a springy stride, bespeaking the Montezuma
+blood said to flow in his Indian veins. Clad in a colored cotton shirt,
+blue jeans, and Spanish girdle, and treading the path with brown feet
+never deformed by shoes, he would have stopped an artist. Soon he bent
+his muscular shoulders to the oars, and the ripples circling from each
+stroke hardly disturbed the calm Panuco. Down the stream glided long
+Indian canoes, hewn from trees and laden with oranges and bananas. In
+the stern stood a dark native wielding an enormous paddle with ease.
+Wild-fowl dotted the glassy expanse; white cranes and pink flamingoes
+graced the reedy bars; red-breasted kingfishers flew over with friendly
+screech. The salt breeze kissed my cheek; the sun shone with the
+comfortable warmth Northerners welcome in spring; from over the white
+sand-dunes far below came the faint boom of the ever-restless Gulf.
+
+We trolled up the river and down, across from one rush-lined lily-padded
+shore to the other, for miles and miles with never a strike. But I was
+content, for over me had been cast the dreamy, care-dispelling languor
+of the South.
+
+When the first long, low swell of the changing tide rolled in, a
+stronger breeze raised little dimpling waves and chased along the water
+in dark, quick-moving frowns. All at once the tarpon began to show,
+to splash, to play, to roll. It was as though they had been awakened by
+the stir and murmur of the miniature breakers. Broad bars of silver
+flashed in the sunlight, green backs cleft the little billows, wide
+tails slapped lazily on the water. Every yard of river seemed to hold a
+rolling fish. This sport increased until the long stretch of water,
+which had been as calm as St. Regis Lake at twilight, resembled the
+quick current of a Canadian stream. It was a fascinating, wonderful
+sight. But it was also peculiarly exasperating, because when the fish
+roll in this sportive, lazy way they will not bite. For an hour I
+trolled through this whirlpool of flying spray and twisting tarpon, with
+many a salty drop on my face, hearing all around me the whipping crash
+of breaking water.
+
+ [Illustration: TARPON THROWING HOOK]
+
+ [Illustration: LEAPING TARPON]
+
+"Byme-by-tarpon," presently remarked Attalano, favoring me with the
+first specimen of his English.
+
+The rolling of the tarpon diminished, and finally ceased as noon
+advanced.
+
+No more did I cast longing eyes upon those huge bars of silver. They
+were buried treasure. The breeze quickened as the flowing tide gathered
+strength, and together they drove the waves higher. Attalano rowed
+across the river into the outlet of one of the lagoons. This narrow
+stream was unruffled by wind; its current was sluggish and its muddy
+waters were clarifying under the influence of the now fast-rising tide.
+
+By a sunken log near shore we rested for lunch. I found the shade of the
+trees on the bank rather pleasant, and became interested in a blue
+heron, a russet-colored duck, and a brown-and-black snipe, all sitting
+on the sunken log. Near by stood a tall crane watching us solemnly, and
+above in the tree-top a parrot vociferously proclaimed his knowledge of
+our presence. I was wondering if he objected to our invasion, at the
+same time taking a most welcome bite for lunch, when directly in front
+of me the water flew up as if propelled by some submarine power. Framed
+in a shower of spray I saw an immense tarpon, with mouth agape and fins
+stiff, close in pursuit of frantically leaping little fish.
+
+The fact that Attalano dropped his sandwich attested to the large size
+and close proximity of the tarpon. He uttered a grunt of satisfaction
+and pushed out the boat. A school of feeding tarpon closed the mouth of
+the lagoon. Thousands of mullet had been cut off from their river haunts
+and were now leaping, flying, darting in wild haste to elude the great
+white monsters. In the foamy swirls I saw streaks of blood.
+
+"Byme-by-tarpon!" called Attalano, warningly.
+
+Shrewd guide! I had forgotten that I held a rod. When the realization
+dawned on me that sooner or later I would feel the strike of one of
+these silver tigers a keen, tingling thrill of excitement quivered over
+me. The primitive man asserted himself; the instinctive lust to conquer
+and to kill seized me, and I leaned forward, tense and strained with
+suspended breath and swelling throat.
+
+Suddenly the strike came, so tremendous in its energy that it almost
+pulled me from my seat; so quick, fierce, bewildering that I could think
+of nothing but to hold on. Then the water split with a hissing sound to
+let out a great tarpon, long as a door, seemingly as wide, who shot
+up and up into the air. He wagged his head and shook it like a
+struggling wolf. When he fell back with a heavy splash, a rainbow,
+exquisitely beautiful and delicate, stood out of the spray, glowed,
+paled, and faded.
+
+ [Illustration: SAVALO, OR SILVER KING]
+
+ [Illustration: THESE WILD FOWL HAVE THE WONDERFUL BEAUTY AND SPEED OF
+ FALCONS]
+
+Five times he sprang toward the blue sky, and as many he plunged down
+with a thunderous crash. The reel screamed. The line sang. The rod,
+which I had thought stiff as a tree, bent like a willow wand. The silver
+king came up far astern and sheered to the right in a long, wide curve,
+leaving behind a white wake. Then he sounded, while I watched the line
+with troubled eyes. But not long did he sulk. He began a series of
+magnificent tactics new in my experience. He stood on his tail, then on
+his head; he sailed like a bird; he shook himself so violently as to
+make a convulsive, shuffling sound; he dove, to come up covered with
+mud, marring his bright sides; he closed his huge gills with a slap and,
+most remarkable of all, he rose in the shape of a crescent, to
+straighten out with such marvelous power that he seemed to actually
+crack like a whip.
+
+After this performance, which left me in a condition of mental
+aberration, he sounded again, to begin a persistent, dragging pull which
+was the most disheartening of all his maneuvers; for he took yard after
+yard of line until he was far away from me, out in the Panuco. We
+followed him, and for an hour crossed to and fro, up and down, humoring
+him, responding to his every caprice, as if he verily were a king. At
+last, with a strange inconsistency more human than fishlike, he returned
+to the scene of his fatal error, and here in the mouth of the smaller
+stream he leaped once more. But it was only a ghost of his former
+efforts--a slow, weary rise, showing he was tired. I could see it in the
+weakening wag of his head. He no longer made the line whistle.
+
+I began to recover the long line. I pumped and reeled him closer.
+Reluctantly he came, not yet broken in spirit, though his strength had
+sped. He rolled at times with a shade of the old vigor, with a pathetic
+manifestation of the temper that became a hero. I could see the long,
+slender tip of his dorsal fin, then his broad tail and finally the gleam
+of his silver side. Closer he came and slowly circled around the boat,
+eying me with great, accusing eyes. I measured him with a fisherman's
+glance. What a great fish! Seven feet, I calculated, at the very least.
+
+At this triumphant moment I made a horrible discovery. About six feet
+from the leader the strands of the line had frayed, leaving only one
+thread intact. My blood ran cold and the clammy sweat broke out on my
+brow. My empire was not won; my first tarpon was as if he had never
+been. But true to my fishing instincts, I held on morosely; tenderly I
+handled him; with brooding care I riveted my eye on the frail place in
+my line, and gently, ever so gently, I began to lead the silver king
+shoreward. Every smallest move of his tail meant disaster to me, so when
+he moved it I let go of the reel. Then I would have to coax him to swim
+back again.
+
+The boat touched the bank. I stood up and carefully headed my fish
+toward the shore, and slid his head and shoulders out on the lily-pads.
+One moment he lay there, glowing like mother-of-pearl, a rare fish,
+fresh from the sea. Then, as Attalano warily reached for the leader, he
+gave a gasp, a flop that deluged us with muddy water, and a lunge that
+spelled freedom.
+
+I watched him swim slowly away with my bright leader dragging beside
+him. Is it not the loss of things which makes life bitter? What we have
+gained is ours; what is lost is gone, whether fish, or use, or love, or
+name, or fame.
+
+I tried to put on a cheerful aspect for my guide. But it was too soon.
+Attalano, wise old fellow, understood my case. A smile, warm and living,
+flashed across his dark face as he spoke:
+
+"Byme-by-tarpon."
+
+Which defined his optimism and revived the failing spark within my
+breast. It was, too, in the nature of a prophecy.
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+THE ISLAND OF THE DEAD
+
+
+Strange wild adventures fall to the lot of a fisherman as well as to
+that of a hunter. On board the _Monterey_, from Havana to Progreso,
+Yucatan, I happened to fall into conversation with an English
+globe-trotter who had just come from the Mont Pelee eruption. Like all
+those wandering Englishmen, this one was exceedingly interesting. We
+exchanged experiences, and I felt that I had indeed much to see and
+learn of the romantic Old World.
+
+In Merida, that wonderful tropic city of white towers and white streets
+and white-gowned women, I ran into this Englishman again. I wanted to
+see the magnificent ruins of Uxmal and Ake and Labna. So did he. I knew
+it would be a hard trip from Muna to the ruins, and so I explained. He
+smiled in a way to make me half ashamed of my doubts. We went together,
+and I found him to be a splendid fellow. We parted without knowing each
+other's names. I had no idea what he thought of me, but I thought he
+must have been somebody.
+
+While traveling around the coast of Yucatan I had heard of the wild and
+lonely Alacranes Reef where lighthouse-keepers went insane from
+solitude, and where wonderful fishes inhabited the lagoons. That was
+enough for me. Forthwith I meant to go to Alacranes.
+
+Further inquiry brought me meager but fascinating news of an island on
+that lonely coral reef, called _Isla de la Muerte_ (the Island of the
+Dead). Here was the haunt of a strange bird, called by Indians
+_rabihorcado_, and it was said to live off the booby, another strange
+sea-bird. The natives of the coast solemnly averred that when the
+_rabihorcado_ could not steal fish from the booby he killed himself by
+hanging in the brush. I did not believe such talk. The Spanish appeared
+to be _rabi_, meaning rabies, and _horcar_, to hang.
+
+I set about to charter a boat, and found the great difficulty in
+procuring one to be with the Yucatecan government. No traveler had ever
+before done such a thing. It excited suspicion. The officials thought
+the United States was looking for a coaling-station. Finally, through
+the help of the Ward line agent and the consul I prevailed upon them to
+give me such papers as appeared necessary. Then my Indian boatmen
+interested a crew of six, and I chartered a two-masted canoe-shaped bark
+called the _Xpit_.
+
+The crew of the _Hispaniola_, with the never-to-be-forgotten John Silver
+and the rest of the pirates of Treasure Island, could not have been a
+more villainous and piratical gang than this of the bark _Xpit_. I was
+advised not to take the trip alone. But it appeared impossible to find
+any one to accompany me. I grew worried, yet determined not to miss the
+opportunity.
+
+Strange to relate, as I was conversing on the dock with a ship captain
+and the agent of the Ward line, lamenting the necessity of sailing for
+Alacranes alone, some one near by spoke up, "Take me!"
+
+In surprise I wheeled to see my English acquaintance who had visited the
+interior of Yucatan with me. I greeted him, thanked him, but of course
+did not take him seriously, and I proceeded to expound the nature of my
+venture. To my further surprise, he not only wanted to go, but he was
+enthusiastic.
+
+"But it's a hard, wild trip," I protested. "Why, that crew of
+barefooted, red-shirted Canary-Islanders have got me scared! Besides,
+you don't know me!"
+
+"Well, you don't know me, either," he replied, with his winning smile.
+
+Then I awoke to my own obtuseness and to the fact that here was a real
+man, in spite of the significance of a crest upon his linen.
+
+"If you'll take a chance on me I'll certainly take one on you," I
+replied, and told him who I was, and that the Ward-line agent and
+American consul would vouch for me.
+
+He offered his hand with the simple reply, "My name is C----."
+
+If before I had imagined he was somebody, I now knew it. And that was
+how I met the kindest man, the finest philosopher, the most unselfish
+comrade, the greatest example and influence that it has ever been my
+good fortune to know upon my trips by land or sea. I learned this during
+our wonderful trip to the Island of the Dead. He never thought of
+himself. Hardship to him was nothing. He had no fear of the sea, nor of
+men, nor of death. It seemed he never rested, never slept, never let
+anybody do what he could do instead.
+
+That night we sailed for Alacranes. It was a white night of the tropics,
+with a million stars blinking in the blue dome overhead, and the
+Caribbean Sea like a shadowed opal, calm and rippling and shimmering.
+The _Xpit_ was not a bark of comfort. It had a bare deck and an empty
+hold. I could not stay below in that gloomy, ill-smelling pit, so I
+tried to sleep on deck. I lay on a hatch under the great boom, and what
+with its creaking, and the hollow roar of the sail, and the wash of the
+waves, and the dazzling starlight, I could not sleep. C. sat on a coil
+of rope, smoked, and watched in silence. I wondered about him then.
+
+Sunrise on the Caribbean was glorious to behold--a vast burst of silver
+and gold over a level and wrinkling blue sea. By day we sailed, tacking
+here and there, like lost mariners standing for some far-off unknown
+shore. That night a haze of clouds obscured the stars, and it developed
+that our red-shirted skipper steered by the stars. We indeed became lost
+mariners. They sounded with a greased lead and determined our latitude
+by the color and character of the coral or sand that came up on the
+lead. Sometimes they knew where we were and at others they did not have
+any more idea than had I.
+
+On the second morning out we reached Alacranes lighthouse; and when I
+saw the flat strip of sand, without a tree or bush to lend it grace and
+color, the bleak lighthouse, and the long, lonely reaches of barren
+reefs from which there came incessant moaning, I did not wonder that two
+former lighthouse-keepers had gone insane. The present keeper received
+me with the welcome always accorded a visitor to out-of-the-world
+places. He corroborated all that my Indian sailors had claimed for
+the _rabihorcado_, and added the interesting information that
+lighthouse-keepers desired the extinction of the birds because the
+guano, deposited by them on the roofs of the keepers' houses, poisoned
+the rain water--all they had to drink.
+
+I climbed the narrow, spiral stair to the lighthouse tower, and there,
+apparently lifted into the cloud-navigated sky, I awakened to the real
+wonder of coral reefs. Ridges of white and brown showed their teeth
+against the crawling, tireless, insatiate sea. Islets of dead coral
+gleamed like bleached bone, and beds of live coral, amber as wine, lay
+wreathed in restless surf. From near to far extended the rollers, the
+curving channels, and the shoals, all colorful, all quivering with the
+light of jewels. Golden sand sloped into the gray-green of shallow
+water, and this shaded again into darker green, which in turn merged
+into purple, reaching away to the far barrier reef, a white wall against
+the blue, heaving ocean.
+
+The crew had rowed us ashore with my boatmen Manuel and Augustine. And
+then the red-shirted captain stated he would like to go back to Progreso
+and return for us at our convenience. Hesitating over this, I finally
+gave permission, on the promise that he would bring back the _Xpit_ in
+one week.
+
+So they sailed away, and left us soon to find out that we were marooned
+on a desert island. When I saw how C. took it I was glad of our enforced
+stay. Solitude and loneliness pervaded Alacranes. Of all the places I
+had visited, this island was the most hauntingly lonely.
+
+ [Illustration: RABIHORCADO]
+
+ [Illustration: THE BOOBIES HAD NO FEAR OF MAN, BUT BOTH YOUNG AND OLD
+ WOULD PICK WITH THEIR SHARP BILLS]
+
+It must have struck C. the same way, and even more powerfully than it
+had me. He was a much older man, and, though so unfailingly cheerful and
+helpful, he seemed to me to desire loneliness. He did not fish or shoot.
+His pleasure appeared to be walking the strand, around and around the
+little island, gathering bits of coral and shells and seaweeds and
+strange things cast up by the tides. For hours he would sit high on the
+lighthouse stairway and gaze out over the variegated mosaic of colored
+reefs. My bed was a hammock in the loft of the keeper's house and it
+hung close to an open door. At night I woke often, and I would look out
+upon the lonely beach and sea. When the light flashed its long wheeling
+gleam out into the pale obscurity of the night it always showed C.'s
+dark figure on the lonely beach. I got into the habit of watching for
+him, and never, at any time I happened to awake, did I fail to see him
+out there. How strange he looms to me now! But I thought it was natural
+then. The loneliness of that coral reef haunted me. The sound of the
+sea, eternally slow and sad and moaning, haunted me like a passion. Men
+are the better for solitude.
+
+Our bark, the _Xpit_, did not come back for us. Day by day we scanned
+the heaving sea, far out beyond the barrier reef, until I began to feel
+like Crusoe upon his lonely isle. We had no way to know then that our
+crew had sailed twice from Progreso, getting lost the first time, and
+getting drunk the second, eventually returning to the home port. Some
+misfortunes turn out to be blessings.
+
+What adventures I had at Alacranes! But, alas! I cannot relate a single
+story about really catching a fish. There were many and ferocious fish
+that would rush any bait I tried, only I could not hold them. My tackle
+was not equal to what it is now. Perhaps, however, if it had been it
+would have been smashed just the same.
+
+In front of the lighthouse there had been built a little plank dock,
+running out twenty yards or so. The water was about six feet deep, and a
+channel of varying width meandered between the coral reefs out to the
+deep blue sea. This must have been a lane for big fish to come inside
+the barrier. Almost always there were great shadows drifting around in
+the water. First I tried artificial baits. Some one, hoping to convert
+me, had given me a whole box of those ugly, murderous plug-baits made
+famous by Robert H. Davis. Whenever I made a cast with one of these a
+big fish would hit it and either strip the hooks off or break my tackle.
+Some of these fish leaped clear. They looked like barracuda to me, only
+they were almost as silvery as a tarpon. One looked ten feet long and as
+big around as a telegraph pole. When this one smashed the water white
+and leaped, Manuel yelled, "_Pecuda!_" I tried hard to catch a specimen,
+and had a good many hooked, but they always broke away. I did not know
+then, as I know now, that barracuda grow to twelve feet in the
+Caribbean. That fact is mentioned in records and natural histories.
+
+Out in the deeper lagoons I hooked huge fish that swam off
+ponderously, dragging the skiff until my line parted. Once I was
+fortunate enough to see one, which fact dispelled any possibility of its
+being a shark. Manuel called it "_Cherna!_" It looked like a giant
+sea-bass and would have weighed at least eight hundred pounds. The color
+was lighter than any sea-bass I ever studied. My Indian boatmen claimed
+this fish was a man-eater and that he and his crew had once fought one
+all day and then it broke away. The fish I saw was huge enough to
+swallow a man, that was certain. I think this species must have been the
+great June-fish of the Gulf. I hooked one once at the mouth of the
+Panuco River in Mexico and it nearly swamped the boat.
+
+ [Illustration: YOUNG BOOBIES]
+
+ [Illustration: SUGGESTIVE OF A WILD, WIND-SWEPT ISLAND OF THE SEA]
+
+Soon my tackle was all used up, and, for want of better, I had to use
+tiny hooks and thread lines--because I was going to fish, by hook or
+crook! This method, however, which I learned first of all, is not to be
+despised. Whenever I get my hand on a thin, light, stiff reed pole and a
+long, light line of thread with a little hook, then I revert to boyhood
+days and sunfish and chubs and shiners and bullheads. Could any
+fisherman desire more joy? Those days are the best.
+
+     The child is father of the man
+     And I could wish my days to be
+     Bound each to each by natural piety.
+
+In the shallow water near the dock there always floated a dense school
+of little fish like sardines. They drifted, floated, hovered beside the
+dock, and when one of the big fish would rush near they would make a
+breaking roar on the surface. Of me they evinced no fear whatever. But
+no bait, natural or artificial, that I could discover, tempted them to
+bite. This roused my cantankerous spirit to catch some of those little
+fish or else fall inestimably in my own regard. I noted that whenever I
+cast over the school it disintegrated. A circle widened from the center,
+and where had been a black mass of fish was only sand. But as my hook
+settled to the bottom the dark circle narrowed and closed until the
+school was densely packed as before. Whereupon I tied several of the
+tiny hooks together with a bit of lead, and, casting that out, I waited
+till all was black around my line, then I jerked. I snagged one of the
+little fish and found him to be a beautiful, silvery, flat-sided shiner
+of unknown species to me. Every cast I made thereafter caught one of
+them. And they were as good to eat as a sardine and better than a
+mullet.
+
+My English comrade, C., sometimes went with me, and when he did go, the
+interest and kindly curiosity and pleasure upon his face were a constant
+source of delight to me. I knew that I was as new a species to him as
+the little fish were to me. But C. had become so nearly a perfectly
+educated man that nothing surprised him, nothing made him wonder. He
+sympathized, he understood, he could put himself in the place of
+another. What worried me, however, was the simple fact that he did not
+care to fish or shoot for the so-called sport of either. I think my
+education on a higher plane began at Alacranes, in the society of that
+lonely Englishman. Somehow I have gravitated toward the men who have
+been good for me.
+
+ [Illustration: NESTS EVERYWHERE IN THE SAND AND MOSS]
+
+ [Illustration: THESE HUGE BLACK RABIHORCADOS WERE THE LARGEST SPECIES
+ OF FRIGATE OR MAN-OF-WAR BIRD]
+
+But C. enjoyed action as well as contemplation. Once out on the shoals
+when Manuel harpooned a huge hawk-bill turtle--the valuable species from
+which the amber shell is derived--we had a thrilling and dangerous ride.
+For the turtle hauled us at a terrific rate through the water. Then C.
+joined in with the yells of the Indians. He was glad, however, when the
+turtle left us stranded high upon a coral bed.
+
+On moonlight nights when the tide was low C. especially enjoyed wading
+on the shoals and hunting for the _langustas_, or giant lobsters. This
+was exciting sport. We used barrel-hoops with nets, and when we saw a
+lobster shining in the shallow water we waded noiselessly close to swoop
+down upon him with a great splash. I was always afraid of these huge
+crayfish, but C. was not. His courage might have been predatory, for he
+certainly liked to eat lobster. But he had a scare one night when a
+devilfish or tremendous ray got between him and the shore and made the
+water fly aloft in a geyser. It was certainly fun for me to see that
+dignified Englishman make tracks across the shoal.
+
+To conclude about C., when I went on to Mexico City with him I met
+friends of his there, a lord and a duke traveling incognito. C. himself
+was a peer of England and a major in the English army. But I never
+learned this till we got to Tampico, where they went with me for the
+tarpon-fishing. They were rare fine fellows. L., the little Englishman,
+could do anything under the sun, and it was from him I got my type for
+Castleton, the Englishman, in _The Light of Western Stars_. I have been
+told that never was there an Englishman on earth like the one I
+portrayed in my novel. But my critics never fished with Lord L.!
+
+These English friends went with me to the station to bid me good-by and
+good luck. We were to part there, they to take ship for London, and I to
+take train for the headwaters of the Panuco River, down which unknown
+streams I was to find my way through jungle to the Gulf. Here I was told
+that C. had lost his only son in the Boer War, and since then had never
+been able to rest or sleep or remain in one place. That stunned me, for
+I remembered that he had seemed to live only to forget himself, to think
+of others. It was a great lesson to me. And now, since I have not heard
+from him during the four years of the world war, I seem to divine that
+he has "gone west"; he has taken his last restless, helpful journey,
+along with the best and noblest of England's blood.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Because this fish-story has so little of fish in it does not prove that
+a man cannot fish for other game than fish. I remember when I was a boy
+that I went with my brother--the R. C. and the Reddy of the accompanying
+pages--to fish for bass at Dillon's Falls in Ohio. Alas for Bill Dilg
+and Bob Davis, who never saw this blue-blooded home of bronze-back
+black-bass! In the heat of the day my brother and I jabbed our poles
+into the bank, and set off to amuse ourselves some other way for a
+while. When we returned my pole was pulled down and wabbling so as to
+make a commotion in the water. Quickly I grasped it and pulled, while
+Reddy stared wide-eyed and open-mouthed. Surely a big bass had taken my
+bait and hooked himself. Never had I felt so heavy and strong a bass!
+The line swished back and forth; my pole bent more and more as I lifted.
+The water boiled and burst in a strange splash. Then! a big duck flew,
+as if by magic, right out from before us. So amazed was I that he nearly
+pulled the pole out of my hands. Reddy yelled wildly. The duck broke the
+line and sped away.... That moment will never be forgotten. It took us
+so long to realize that the duck had swallowed my minnow, hooked
+himself, and happened to be under the surface when we returned.
+
+So the point of my main story, like that of the above, is about how I
+set out to catch fish, and, failing, found for such loss abundant
+recompense.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Manuel and Augustine, my Indian sailors, embarked with me in a boat for
+the Island of the Dead. Millions of marine creatures swarmed in the
+labyrinthine waterways. Then, as we neared the land, "_Rabihorcado!_"
+exclaimed Manuel, pointing to a black cloud hovering over the island.
+
+As we approached the sandy strip I made it out to be about half a mile
+long, lying only a few feet above the level of the sea. Hundreds of
+great, black birds flew out to meet us and sailed over the boat, a
+sable-winged, hoarse-voiced crowd. When we beached I sprang ashore and
+ran up the sand to the edge of green. The whole end of the island was
+white with birds--large, beautiful, snowy birds with shiny black bars
+across their wings.
+
+"Boobies," said Manuel and motioned me to go forward.
+
+They greeted our approach with the most discordant din it had ever been
+my fortune to hear. A mingling of honk and cackle, it manifested not
+excitement so much as curiosity. I walked among the boobies, and they
+never moved except to pick at me with long, sharp bills. Many were
+sitting on nests, and all around in the sand were nests with eggs, and
+little boobies just hatched, and others in every stage of growth, up to
+big babies of birds like huge balls of pure white wool. I wondered where
+the thousands of mothers were. The young ones showed no concern when I
+picked them up, save to dig into me with curious bills.
+
+I saw an old booby, close by, raise his black-barred wings, and,
+flapping them, start to run across the sand. In this way he launched
+himself into the air and started out to sea. Presently I noticed several
+more flying away, one at a time, while others came sailing back again.
+How they could sail! They had the swift, graceful flight of a falcon.
+
+For a while I puzzled over the significance of this outgoing and
+incoming. Shortly a bird soared overhead, circled with powerful sweep,
+and alighted within ten feet of me. The bird watched me with gray,
+unintelligent eyes. They were stupid, uncanny eyes, yet somehow so fixed
+and staring as to seem accusing. One of the little white balls of wool
+waddled up and, rubbing its fuzzy head against the booby, proclaimed the
+filial relation. After a few rubs and wabbles the young bird opened wide
+its bill and let out shrill cries. The mother bobbed up and down in
+evident consternation, walked away, came back, and with an eye on me
+plainly sought to pacify her fledgling. Suddenly she put her bill far
+down into the wide-open bill, effectually stifling the cries. Then the
+two boobies stood locked in amazing convulsions. The throat of the
+mother swelled, and a lump passed into and down the throat of the young
+bird. The puzzle of the flying boobies was solved in the startling
+realization that the mother had returned from the sea with a fish in her
+stomach and had disgorged it into the gullet of her offspring.
+
+ [Illustration: RABIHORCADO RISING FROM THEIR EGGS]
+
+ [Illustration: BOOBIES OF ISLA DE LA MUERTE IN THE CARIBBEAN SEA]
+
+I watched this feat performed dozens of times, and at length scared a
+mother booby into withdrawing her bill and dropping a fish on the sand.
+It was a flying-fish fully ten inches long. I interrupted several little
+dinner-parties, and in each case found the disgorged fish to be of the
+flying species. The boobies flew ten, twenty miles out to the open sea
+for fish, while the innumerable shoals that lay around their island were
+alive with sardine and herring!
+
+I had raised a tremendous row; so, leaving the boobies to quiet down, I
+made my way toward the flocks of _rabihorcados_. Here and there in the
+thick growth of green weed were boobies squatting on isolated nests. No
+sooner had I gotten close to the _rabihorcados_ than I made sure they
+were the far-famed frigate pelicans, or man-of-war birds. They were as
+tame as the boobies; as I walked among them many did not fly at all.
+Others rose with soft, swishing sound of great wings and floated in a
+circle, uttering deep-throated cries, not unlike the dismal croak of
+ravens. Perfectly built for the air, they were like feathers blown by a
+breeze. Light, thin, long, sharp, with enormous spread of wings,
+beautiful with the beauty of dead, blue-black sheen, and yet hideous,
+too, with their grisly necks and cruel, crooked beaks and vulture eyes,
+they were surely magnificent specimens of winged creation.
+
+Nests of dried weeds littered the ground, and eggs and young were
+everywhere. The little ones were covered with white down, and the
+developing feathers on their wings were turning black. They squalled
+unremittingly, which squalling I decided was not so much on my account
+as because of a swarm of black flies that attacked them when the mothers
+flew away. I was hard put to it myself to keep these flies, large as
+pennies and as flat, from eating me alive. They slipped up my sleeves
+and trousers and their bite made a wasp-sting pleasure by comparison.
+
+By rushing into a flock of _rabihorcados_ I succeeded several times in
+catching one in my hands. And spreading it out, I made guesses as to
+width from tip to tip of wings. None were under seven feet; one measured
+all of eight. They made no strenuous resistance and regarded me with
+cold eyes. Every flock that I put to flight left several dozen little
+ones squalling in the nests; and at one place an old booby waddled to
+the nests and began to maltreat the young _rabihorcados_. Instincts of
+humanity bade me scare the old brute away until I happened to remember
+the relation existing between the two species. Then I watched. With my
+own eyes I saw that grizzled booby pick and bite and wring those poor
+little birds with a grim and deadly deliberation. When the mothers, soon
+returning, fluttered down, they did not attack the booby, but protected
+their little ones by covering them with body and wings. Conviction came
+upon me that it was instinctive for the booby to kill the parasitical
+_rabihorcado_; and likewise instinctive for the _rabihorcado_ to
+preserve the life of the booby.
+
+A shout from Manuel directed me toward the extreme eastern end of the
+island. On the way I discovered many little dead birds, and the farther
+I went the more I found. Among the low bushes were also many old
+_rabihorcados_, dead and dry. Some were twisted among the network of
+branches, and several were hanging in limp, grotesque, horribly
+suggestive attitudes of death. Manuel had all of the Indian's leaning
+toward the mystical, and he believed the _rabihorcados_ had destroyed
+themselves. Starved they may very well have been, but to me the gales of
+that wind-swept, ocean desert accounted for the hanging _rabihorcados_.
+Still, when face to face with the island, with its strife, and its
+illustration of the survival of the fittest, all that Manuel had claimed
+and more, I had to acknowledge the disquieting force of the thing and
+its stunning blow to an imagined knowledge of life and its secrets.
+
+Suddenly Manuel shouted and pointed westward. I saw long white streams
+of sea-birds coming toward the island. My glass showed them to be
+boobies. An instant later thousands of _rabihorcados_ took wing as if
+impelled by a common motive. Manuel ran ahead in his excitement, turning
+to shout to me, and then to point toward the wavering, swelling, white
+streams. I hurried after him, to that end of the island where we had
+landed, and I found the colony of boobies in a state of great
+perturbation. All were squawking, flapping wings, and waddling
+frantically about. Here was fear such as had not appeared on my advent.
+
+Thousands of boobies were returning from deep-sea fishing, and as they
+neared the island they were met and set upon by a swarming army of
+_rabihorcados_. Darting white and black streaks crossed the blue of sky
+like a changeful web. The air was full of plaintive cries and hoarse
+croaks and the windy rush of wings. So marvelous was this scene of
+incredibly swift action, of kaleidoscopic change, of streaking lines and
+curves, that the tragedy at first was lost upon me. Then the shrieking
+of a booby told me that the robber birds were after their prey. Manuel
+lay flat on the ground to avoid being struck by low-flying birds, but I
+remained standing in order to see the better. Faster and faster circled
+the pursued and pursuers and louder grew the cries and croaks. My gaze
+was bewildered by the endless, eddying stream of birds.
+
+Then I turned my back on sea and beach where this bee-swarm confused my
+vision, and looked to see single boobies whirling here and there with
+two or three black demons in pursuit. I picked out one group and turned
+my glass upon it. Many battles had I seen by field and stream and
+mountain, but this unequal battle by sea eclipsed all. The booby's
+mother instinct was to get to her young with the precious fish that
+meant life. And she would have been more than a match for any one thief.
+But she could not cope successfully with two fierce _rabihorcados_; for
+one soared above her, resting, watching, while the other darted and
+whirled to the attack. They changed, now one black demon swooping down,
+and then the other, in calculating, pitiless pursuit. How glorious she
+was in poise and swerve and sweep! For what seemed a long time neither
+_rabihorcado_ touched her. What distance she could have placed between
+them but for that faithful mother instinct! She kept circling, ever
+returning, drawn back toward the sand by the magnet of love; and the
+powerful wings seemed slowly to lose strength. Closer the _rabihorcados_
+swooped and rose and swooped again, till one of them, shooting down like
+a black flash, struck her in the back. The white feathers flew away on
+the wind. She swept up, appeared to pause wearily and quiver, then
+disgorged her fish. It glinted in the sunlight. The _rabihorcado_
+dropped in easy, downward curve and caught it as it fell.
+
+So the struggle for existence continued till I seemed to see all the
+world before me with its myriads of wild creatures preying upon one
+another; the spirit of nature, unquenchable as the fires of the sun,
+continuing ceaseless and imperturbable in its inscrutable design.
+
+As we rowed away I looked back. Sky of a dull purple, like smoke with
+fire behind it, framed the birds of power and prey in colors suitable to
+their spirit. My ears were filled with the haunting sound of the sea,
+the sad wash of the surf, the harmonious and mournful music of the
+Island of the Dead.
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+THE ROYAL PURPLE GAME OF THE SEA
+
+
+To the great majority of anglers it may seem unreasonable to place
+swordfishing in a class by itself--by far the most magnificent sport in
+the world with rod and reel. Yet I do not hesitate to make this
+statement and believe I can prove it.
+
+The sport is young at this writing--very little has been written by men
+who have caught swordfish. It was this that attracted me. Quite a number
+of fishermen have caught a swordfish. But every one of them will have
+something different to tell you and the information thus gleaned is apt
+to leave you at sea, both metaphorically and actually. Quite a number of
+fishermen, out after yellowtail, have sighted a swordfish, and with the
+assistance of heavy tackle and their boatmen have caught that swordfish.
+Some few men have caught a small swordfish so quickly and easily that
+they cannot appreciate what happened. On the other hand, one very large
+swordfish, a record, was caught in an hour, after a loggy rolling about,
+like a shark, without leaping. But these are not fighting swordfish. Of
+course, under any circumstances, it is an event to catch a swordfish.
+But the accidents, the flukes, the lucky stabs of the game, do not in
+any sense prove what swordfishing is or what it is not.
+
+In August, 1914, I arrived at Avalon with tuna experience behind me,
+with tarpon experience, and all the other kinds of fishing experience,
+even to the hooking of a swordfish in Mexico. I am inclined to confess
+that all this experience made me--well, somewhat too assured. Any one
+will excuse my enthusiasm. The day of my arrival I met Parker, the
+genial taxidermist of Avalon, and I started to tell him how I wanted my
+swordfish mounted. He interrupted me: "Say, young fellow, you want to
+catch a swordfish first!" One of the tuna boatmen gave me a harder jolt.
+He said: "Well, if you fish steadily for a couple of weeks, maybe you'll
+get a strike. And one swordfish caught out of ten strikes is good work!"
+But Danielson was optimistic and encouraging, as any good boatman ought
+to be. If I had not been fortunate enough to secure Captain Dan as my
+boatman, it is certain that one of the most wonderful fishing
+experiences on record would have fallen to some other fisherman, instead
+of to me.
+
+We went over to Clemente Island, which is thirty-six miles from Catalina
+Island. Clemente is a mountain rising out of the sea, uninhabited,
+lonely, wild, and beautiful. But I will tell about the island later.
+
+The weather was perfect, the conditions were apparently ideal. I shall
+never forget the sight of the first swordfish, with his great
+sickle-shaped tail and his purple fin. Nor am I likely to forget my
+disappointment when he totally ignored the flying-fish bait we trolled
+before him.
+
+That experience was but a forerunner to others just like it. Every day
+we sighted one or more swordfish. But we could not get one to take hold.
+Captain Dan said there was more chance of getting a strike from a
+swordfish that was not visible rolling on the surface. Now a flying-fish
+bait makes a rather heavy bait to troll; and as it is imperative to have
+the reel free running and held lightly with the thumb, after a few hours
+such trolling becomes hard work. Hard as it was, it did not wear on me
+like the strain of being always ready for a strike. I doubt if any
+fisherman could stand this strain.
+
+In twenty-one days I had seen nineteen swordfish, several of which had
+leaped playfully, or to shake off the remoras--parasite, blood-sucking
+little fish--and the sight of every one had only served to increase my
+fascination. By this time I had realized something of the difficult
+nature of the game, and I had begun to have an inkling of what sport it
+might be. During those twenty-one days we had trolled fifteen hundred
+miles, altogether, up and down that twenty-five-mile coast of rugged
+Clemente. And we had trolled round these fish in every conceivable way.
+I cannot begin to describe my sensations when we circled round a
+swordfish, and they grew more intense and acute as the strain and
+suspense dragged. Captain Dan, of course, was mostly dominated by my
+feeling. All the same, I think the strain affected him on his own
+account.
+
+Then one day Boschen came over to Clemente with Farnsworth--and let me
+explain, by the way, that Boschen is probably the greatest heavy tackle
+fisherman living. Boschen would not fish for anything except tuna or
+swordfish, and up to this visit to Clemente he had caught many tuna, but
+only one swordfish, a _Xiphias_. This is the broadbill, or true,
+swordfish; and he is even rarer, and certainly larger and fiercer, than
+the Marlin, or roundbill, swordfish. This time at Clemente, Boschen
+caught his first Marlin and it weighed over three hundred pounds, leaped
+clear into the air sixty-three times, and gave a spectacular and
+magnificent surface fight that simply beggared description.
+
+ [Illustration: A SWORDFISH LEAPING OFF THE BOLD BLACK SHORE OF
+ CLEMENTE]
+
+ [Illustration: ON THE RAMPAGE]
+
+It made me wild to catch one, of like weight and ferocity. I spent
+several more endless days in vain. Then on the twenty-fifth day, way off
+the east end of Clemente, we sighted a swordfish with a tail almost
+pink. He had just come to those waters and had not yet gotten sunburnt.
+We did not have to circle round him! At long distance he saw my bait,
+and as he went under I saw he had headed for it. I remember that I shook
+all over. And when I felt him take that bait, thrill on thrill
+electrified me. Steadily the line ran off the reel. Then Captain Dan
+leaned over and whispered, hoarsely:
+
+"When you think he's had enough throw on your drag and strike. Then wind
+quick and strike again.... Wind and strike! Keep it up till he shows!"
+
+Despite my intense excitement, I was calm enough to follow directions.
+But when I struck I felt no weight at all--no strain on the line.
+Frantically I wound and jerked--again and again! I never felt him at
+all. Suddenly my line rose--and then, bewilderingly near the boat, when
+I was looking far off, the water split with a roar and out shot a huge,
+gleaming, white-and-purple fish. He blurred in my sight. Down he went
+with a crash. I wound the reel like a madman, but I never even half got
+up the slack line. The swordfish had run straight toward the boat. He
+leaped again, in a place I did not expect, and going down, instantly
+came up in another direction. His speed, his savageness, stunned me. I
+could not judge of his strength, for I never felt his weight. The next
+leap I saw him sling the hook. It was a great performance. Then that
+swordfish, finding himself free, leaped for the open sea, and every few
+yards he came out in a clean jump. I watched him, too fascinated to
+count the times he broke water, but he kept it up till he was out of
+sight on the horizon.
+
+At first Captain Dan took the loss harder than I took it. But gradually
+I realized what had happened, and, though I made a brave effort to be
+game and cheerful, I was sick. It did seem hard that, after all those
+twenty-five days of patience and hope and toil, I could not have hooked
+the swordfish. I see now that it was nothing, only an incident, but I
+shall never forget the pang.
+
+That day ended my 1914 experience. The strain had been too hard on me.
+It had taken all this time for me to appreciate what swordfishing might
+be. I assured Captain Dan I would come back in 1915, but at the time he
+did not believe me. He said:
+
+"If you hadn't stuck it out so long I wouldn't care. Most of the
+fishermen try only a few days and never come back. Don't quit now!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+But I did go back in 1915. Long ago on my lonely desert trips I learned
+the value of companions and I dreaded the strain of this swordfishing
+game. I needed some one to help lessen it. Besides that, I needed
+snapshot pictures of leaping swordfish, and it was obvious that Captain
+Dan and I would have our hands full when a fish got hooked. We had
+music, books, magazines--everything that could be thought of.
+
+Murphy, the famous old Avalon fisherman and tackle-maker, had made me a
+double split-bamboo rod, and I had brought the much-talked-of B-Ocean
+reel. This is Boschen's invention--one he was years in perfecting. It
+held fifteen hundred feet of No. 24 line. And I will say now that it is
+a grand reel, the best on the market. But I did not know that then, and
+had to go through the trip with it, till we were both tried out. Lastly,
+and most important, I had worked to get into condition to fight
+swordfish. For weeks I rowed a boat at home to get arms and back in
+shape, and especially my hands. Let no fisherman imagine he can land a
+fighting swordfish with soft hands!
+
+So, prepared for a long, hard strain, like that of 1914, I left Avalon
+hopeful, of course, but serious, determined, and alive to the
+possibilities of failure.
+
+I did not troll across the channel between the islands. There was a big
+swell running, and four hours of it gave me a disagreeable feeling. Now
+and then I got up to see how far off Clemente was. And upon the last of
+these occasions I saw the fins of a swordfish right across our bow. I
+yelled to Captain Dan. He turned the boat aside, almost on top of the
+swordfish. Hurriedly I put a bait on my hook and got it overboard, and
+let the line run. Then I looked about for the swordfish. He had gone
+down.
+
+It seemed then that, simultaneously with the recurrence of a peculiar
+and familiar disappointment, a heavy and powerful fish viciously took my
+bait and swept away. I yelled to Captain Dan:
+
+"He's got it!" ...
+
+Captain Dan stopped the engine and came to my side. "No!" he exclaimed.
+
+Then I replied, "Look at that line!" ...
+
+It seemed like a dream. Too good to be true! I let out a shout when I
+hooked him and a yell of joy when he broke water--a big swordfish, over
+two hundred pounds. What really transpired on Captain Dan's boat the
+following few moments I cannot adequately describe. Suffice to say that
+it was violent effort, excitement, and hilarity. I never counted the
+leaps of the swordfish. I never clearly saw him after that first leap.
+He seemed only a gleam in flying spray. Still, I did not make any
+mistakes.
+
+At the end of perhaps a quarter of an hour the swordfish quit his
+surface work and settled down to under-water fighting, and I began to
+find myself. Captain Dan played the phonograph, laughed, and joked while
+I fought the fish. My companions watched my rod and line and the water,
+wide-eyed and mute, as if they could not believe what seemed true.
+
+In about an hour and a half the swordfish came up and, tired out, he
+rolled on the top of the great swells. But he could not be drawn near
+the boat. One little wave of his tail made my rod bend dangerously.
+Still, I knew I had him beaten, and I calculated that in another hour,
+perhaps, I could lead him alongside.
+
+ [Illustration: SWORDFISH ON THE SURFACE]
+
+ [Illustration: HOLDING HARD]
+
+Then, like thunder out of a clear sky, something went wrong with the
+great B-Ocean reel. It worked hard. When a big swell carried the
+swordfish up, pulling out line, the reel rasped.
+
+"It's freezing on you!" shouted Captain Dan, with dark glance.
+
+A new reel sometimes clogs and stops from friction and heat. I had had
+von Hofe and other reels freeze. But in this instance, it seemed that
+for the reel to freeze would be simply heartbreaking. Well--it froze,
+tight as a shut vise! I sat there, clutching the vibrating rod, and I
+watched the swordfish as the swells lifted him. I expected the line to
+break, but, instead, the hook tore out.
+
+Next day we sighted four swordfish and tried in vain to coax one to
+bite.
+
+Next day we sighted ten swordfish, which is a record for one day. They
+were indifferent.
+
+The next three. The next one, with like result. The next day no fish
+were sighted, and that fact encouraged Captain Dan.
+
+The next day, late in the afternoon, I had a strike and hooked a
+swordfish. He leaped twice and threw the hook.
+
+The next day I got eleven jumps out of another before he gracefully
+flung the hook at the boat.
+
+The next day, a big swordfish, with a ragged purple fin, took my bait
+right astern of the boat and sounded deep. I hooked him. Time and time
+again I struck with all my might. The fish did not seem to mind that.
+He swam along with the boat. He appeared very heavy. I was elated and
+curious.
+
+"What's he going to do?" I kept asking Captain Dan.
+
+"Wait!" he exclaimed.
+
+After six minutes the swordfish came up, probably annoyed by the hook
+fast in him. When he showed his flippers, as Captain Dan called them, we
+all burst out with wonder and awe. As yet I had no reason to fear a
+swordfish.
+
+"He's a whale!" yelled Captain Dan.
+
+Probably this fish measured eight feet between his dorsal fin and the
+great curved fluke of his tail, and that would make his total length
+over twelve feet.
+
+No doubt the swordfish associated the thing fast in his jaw with the
+boat, for he suddenly awoke. He lifted himself, wagging his sword,
+showing his great silvery side. Then he began to thresh. I never felt a
+quarter of such power at the end of a line. He went swift as a flash.
+Then he leaped sheer ahead, like a porpoise, only infinitely more
+active. We all yelled. He was of great size, over three hundred, broad,
+heavy, long, and the most violent and savage fish I ever had a look at.
+Then he rose half--two-thirds out of the water, shaking his massive
+head, jaws open, sword sweeping, and seemed to move across the water in
+a growing, boiling maelstrom of foam. This was the famous "walking on
+his tail" I had heard so much about. It was an incredible feat. He must
+have covered fifty yards. Then he plunged down, and turned swiftly in a
+curve toward the boat. He looked threatening to me. I could not manage
+the slack line. One more leap and he threw the hook. I found the point
+of the hook bent. It had never been embedded in his jaw. And also I
+found that his violent exercise had lasted just one minute. I wondered
+how long I would have lasted had the hook been deep-set.
+
+Next day I had a swordfish take my bait, swim away on the surface,
+showing the flying-fish plainly between his narrow beak, and after
+fooling with it for a while he ejected it.
+
+Next day I got a great splashing strike from another, without even a
+sight of the fish.
+
+Next day I hooked one that made nineteen beautiful leaps straightaway
+before he got rid of the hook.
+
+And about that time I was come to a sad pass. In fact, I could not
+sleep, eat, or rest. I was crazy on swordfish.
+
+Day after day, from early morning till late afternoon, aboard on the
+sea, trolling, watching, waiting, eternally on the alert, I had kept at
+the game. My emotional temperament made this game a particularly trying
+one. And every possible unlucky, unforeseen, and sickening thing that
+could happen to a fisherman had happened. I grew morbid, hopeless. I
+could no longer see the beauty of that wild and lonely island, nor the
+wonder of that smooth, blue Pacific, nor the myriad of strange
+sea-creatures. It was a bad state of mind which I could not wholly
+conquer. Only by going at it so hard, and sticking so long, without any
+rests, could I gain the experience I wanted. A man to be a great
+fisherman should have what makes Stewart White a great hunter--no
+emotions. If a lion charged me I would imagine a million things. Once
+when a Mexican _tigre_, a jaguar, charged me I--But that is not this
+story. Boschen has the temperament for a great fisherman. He is
+phlegmatic. All day--and day after day--he sits there, on trigger, so to
+speak, waiting for the strike that will come. He is so constituted that
+it does not matter to him how soon or how late the strike comes. To me
+the wait, the suspense, grew to be maddening. Yet I stuck it out, and in
+this I claim a victory, of which I am prouder than I am of the record
+that gave me more swordfish to my credit than any other fisherman has
+taken.
+
+On the next day, August 11th, about three o'clock, I saw a long, moving
+shadow back of my bait. I jumped up. There was the purple, drifting
+shape of a swordfish. I felt a slight vibration when he hit the bait
+with his sword. Then he took the bait. I hooked this swordfish. He
+leaped eight times before he started out to sea. He took us three miles.
+In an hour and five minutes I brought him to gaff--a small fish. Captain
+Dan would take no chances of losing him. He risked much when he grasped
+the waving sword with his right hand, and with the gaff in his left he
+hauled the swordfish aboard and let him slide down into the cockpit. For
+Captain Dan it was no less an overcoming of obstinate difficulty than
+for me. He was as elated as I, but I forgot the past long, long siege,
+while he remembered it.
+
+That swordfish certainly looked a tiger of the sea. He had purple fins,
+long, graceful, sharp; purple stripes on a background of dark, mottled
+bronze green; mother-of-pearl tint fading into the green; and great
+opal eyes with dark spots in the center. The colors came out most
+vividly and exquisitely, the purple blazing, just as the swordfish
+trembled his last and died. He was nine feet two inches long and weighed
+one hundred and eighteen pounds.
+
+ [Illustration: A CLEAN GREYHOUND LEAP]
+
+ [Illustration: 316-POUND SWORDFISH]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I caught one the next day, one hundred and forty-four pounds. Fought
+another the next day and he threw the hook after a half-hour. Caught two
+the following day--one hundred and twenty, and one hundred and sixty-six
+pounds. And then, Captain Dan foreshadowing my remarkable finish,
+exclaimed:
+
+"I'm lookin' for busted records now!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+One day about noon the sea was calm except up toward the west end, where
+a wind was whipping the water white. Clemente Island towered with its
+steep slopes of wild oats and its blue canons full of haze.
+
+Captain Dan said he had seen a big swordfish jump off to the west, and
+we put on full speed. He must have been a mile out and just where the
+breeze ruffled the water. As good luck would have it, we came upon the
+fish on the surface. I consider this a fine piece of judgment for
+Captain Dan, to locate him at that distance. He was a monster and fresh
+run from the outside sea. That is to say, his great fin and tail were
+violet, almost pink in color. They had not had time to get sunburnt, as
+those of fish earlier arrived at Clemente.
+
+We made a wide circle round him, to draw the flying-fish bait near him.
+But before we could get it near he went down. The same old story, I
+thought, with despair--these floating fish will not bite. We circled
+over the place where he had gone down, and I watched my bait rising and
+falling in the low swells.
+
+Suddenly Captain Dan yelled and I saw a great blaze of purple and silver
+green flashing after my bait. It was the swordfish, and he took the bait
+on the run. That was a moment for a fisherman! I found it almost
+impossible to let him have enough line. All that I remember about the
+hooking of him was a tremendous shock. His first dash was irresistibly
+powerful, and I had a sensation of the absurdity of trying to stop a
+fish like that. Then the line began to rise on the surface and to
+lengthen in my sight, and I tried to control my rapture and fear enough
+to be able to see him clearly when he leaped. The water split, and up he
+shot--a huge, glittering, savage, beautiful creature, all purple and
+opal in the sunlight. He did not get all the way out of the water, but
+when he dropped back he made the water roar.
+
+Then, tearing off line, he was out of the water in similar leaps--seven
+times more. Captain Dan had his work cut out for him as well as I had
+mine. It was utterly impossible to keep a tight line, and when I felt
+the slacking of weight I grew numb and sick--thinking he was gone. But
+he suddenly straightened the line with a jerk that lifted me, and he
+started inshore. He had about four hundred feet of line out, and more
+slipping out as if the drag was not there. Captain Dan headed the boat
+after him at full speed. Then followed a most thrilling race. It was
+over very quickly, but it seemed an age. When he stopped and went down
+he had pulled thirteen hundred feet off my reel while we were chasing
+him at full speed. While he sounded I got back half of this line. I wish
+I could give some impression of the extraordinary strength and speed of
+this royal purple fish of the sea. He came up again, in two more leaps,
+one of which showed me his breadth of back, and then again was performed
+for me the feature of which I had heard so much and which has made the
+swordfish the most famous of all fish--he rose two-thirds out of the
+water, I suppose by reason of the enormous power of his tail, though it
+seemed like magic, and then he began to walk across the sea in a great
+circle of white foam, wagging his massive head, sword flying, jaws wide,
+dorsal fin savagely erect, like a lion's mane. He was magnificent. I
+have never seen fury so expressed or such an unquenchable spirit. Then
+he dropped back with a sudden splash, and went down and down and down.
+
+All swordfish fight differently, and this one adopted tuna tactics. He
+sounded and began to plug away and bang the leader with his tail. He
+would take off three hundred feet of line, and then, as he slowed up, I,
+by the labor of Hercules, pulled and pumped and wound most of it back on
+the reel. This kept up for an hour--surely the hardest hour's work of my
+life.
+
+But a swordfish is changeable. That is the beauty of his gameness. He
+left off sounding and came up to fight on the surface. In the next hour
+he pulled us from the Fence to Long Point, a distance of four miles.
+
+Once off the Point, where the tide rip is strong, he began to circle in
+great, wide circles. Strangely, he did not put out to sea. And here,
+during the next hour, I had the finest of experiences I think that ever
+befell a fisherman. I was hooked to a monster fighting swordfish; I was
+wet with sweat, and salt water that had dripped from my reel, and I was
+aching in every muscle. The sun was setting in banks of gold and silver
+fog over the west end, and the sea was opalescent--vast, shimmering,
+heaving, beautiful. And at this sunset moment, or hour--for time seemed
+nothing--a school of giant tuna began leaping around us, smashing the
+water, making the flying-fish rise in clouds, like drifting bees. I saw
+a whole flock of flying-fish rise into the air with that sunset glow and
+color in the background, and the exquisite beauty of life and movement
+was indescribable. Next a bald eagle came soaring down, and, swooping
+along the surface, he lowered his talons to pick up a crippled
+flying-fish. And when the hoary-headed bird rose, a golden eagle, larger
+and more powerful, began to contest with him for the prey.
+
+Then the sky darkened and the moon whitened--and my fight went on. I had
+taken the precaution to work for two months at rowing to harden my hands
+for just such a fight as this. Yet my hands suffered greatly. A man who
+is not in the best of physical trim, with his hands hard, cannot hope to
+land a big swordfish.
+
+I was all afternoon at this final test, and all in, too, but at last I
+brought him near enough for Captain Dan to grasp the leader.... Then
+there was something doing around that boat for a spell! I was positive
+a German torpedo had hit us. But the explosion was only the swordfish's
+tail and Dan's voice yelling for another gaff. When Captain Dan got the
+second gaff in him there was another submarine attack, but the boat did
+not sink.
+
+Next came the job of lassoing the monster's tail. Here I shone, for I
+had lassoed mountain-lions with Buffalo Jones, and I was efficient and
+quick. Captain Dan and I were unable to haul the fish on board, and we
+had to get out the block and tackle and lift the tail on deck, secure
+that, and then pull up the head from the other side. After that I needed
+some kind of tackle to hold me up.
+
+We were miles from camp, and I was wet and cold and exhausted, and the
+pain in my blistered hands was excruciating. But not soon shall I forget
+that ride down the shore with the sea so rippling and moon-blanched, and
+the boom of the surf on the rocks, and the peaks of the island standing
+bold and dark against the white stars.
+
+This swordfish weighed three hundred and sixteen pounds on faulty scales
+at Clemente. He very likely weighed much more. He was the largest
+Captain Dan ever saw, up to that time. Al Shade guessed his weight at
+three hundred and sixty. The market fishermen, who put in at the little
+harbor the next day, judged him way over three hundred, and these men
+are accurate. The fish hung head down for a day and night, lost all the
+water and blood and feed in him, and another day later, when landed at
+Avalon, he had lost considerable. There were fishermen who discredited
+Captain Dan and me, who in our enthusiasm claimed a record.
+
+But--that sort of thing is one of the aspects of the sport. I was sorry,
+for Captain Dan's sake. The rivalries between boatmen are keen and
+important, and they are fostered by unsportsman-like fishermen. And
+fishermen live among past associations; they grow to believe their
+performances unbeatable and they hate to see a new king crowned. This
+may be human, since we are creatures who want always to excel, but it is
+irritating to the young fishermen. As for myself, what did I care how
+much the swordfish weighed? He was huge, magnificent, beautiful, and
+game to the end of that four-hour battle. Who or what could change
+that--or the memory of those schools of flying-fish in the sunset
+glow--or the giant tuna, smashing the water all about me--or the eagles
+fighting over my head--or the beauty of wild and lonely Clemente under
+its silver cloud-banks?
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I went on catching one or two swordfish every day, and Captain Dan
+averred that the day would come when we would swamp the boat. These days
+were fruitful of the knowledge of swordfish that I had longed to earn.
+
+They are indeed "queer birds." I learned to recognize the sharp
+vibration of my line when a swordfish rapped the bait with his sword. No
+doubt he thought he thus killed his prey. Then the strike would come
+invariably soon after. No two swordfish acted or fought alike. I hooked
+one that refused to stand the strain of the line. He followed the boat,
+and was easily gaffed. I hooked another, a heavy fish, that did not show
+for two hours. We were sure we had a broadbill, and were correspondingly
+worried. The broadbill swordfish is a different proposition. He is
+larger, fiercer, and tireless. He will charge the boat, and nothing but
+the churning propeller will keep him from ramming the boat. There were
+eight broadbill swordfish hooked at Avalon during the summer, and not
+one brought to gaff. This is an old story. Only two have been caught to
+date. They are so powerful, so resistless, so desperate, and so cunning
+that it seems impossible to catch them. They will cut bait after bait
+off your hook as clean as if it had been done with a knife. For that
+matter, their broad bill is a straight, long, powerful two-edged sword.
+And the fish perfectly understands its use.
+
+This matter of swordfish charging the boat is apt to be discredited by
+fishermen. But it certainly is not doubted by the few who know. I have
+seen two swordfish threaten my boat, and one charge it. Walker, an
+Avalon boatman, tells of a prodigious battle his angler had with a
+broadbill giant calculated to weigh five hundred pounds. This fight
+lasted eight hours. Many times the swordfish charged the boat and lost
+his nerve. If that propeller had stopped he would have gone through the
+boat as if it had been paper. After this fish freed himself he was so
+mad that he charged the boat repeatedly. Boschen fought a big broadbill
+for eleven hours. And during this fight the swordfish sounded to the
+bottom forty-eight times, and had to be pumped up; he led the boat
+almost around Catalina Island--twenty-nine miles; and he had gotten out
+into the channel, headed for Clemente, when he broke away. This fish did
+everything. I consider this battle the greatest on record. Only a man of
+enormous strength and endurance could have lasted so long--not to speak
+of the skill and wits necessary on the part of both fisherman and
+boatman. All fishermen fish for the big fish, though it is sport to
+catch any game fish, irrespective of size. But let any fisherman who has
+nerve see and feel a big swordfish on his line, and from that moment he
+is obsessed. Why, a tarpon is child's play compared to holding a fast
+swordfish.
+
+It is my great ambition now to catch a broadbill. That would completely
+round out my fishing experience. And I shall try. But I doubt that I
+will be so fortunate. It takes a long time. Boschen was years catching
+his fish. Moreover, though it is hard to get a broadbill to bite--and
+harder to hook him--it is infinitely harder to do anything with him
+after you do get fast to him.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+A word about Avalon boatmen. They are a fine body of men. I have heard
+them maligned. Certainly they have petty rivalries and jealousies, but
+this is not their fault. They fish all the seasons around and have been
+there for years. Boatmen at Long Key and other Florida resorts--at
+Tampico, Aransas Pass--are not in the same class with the Avalon men.
+They want to please and to excel, and to number you among their patrons
+for the future. And the boats--nowhere are there such splendid boats.
+Captain Danielson's boat had utterly spoiled me for fishing out of
+any other. He had it built, and the ideas of its construction were a
+product of fifteen years' study. It is thirty-eight feet long, and wide,
+with roomy, shaded cockpit and cabin, and comfortable revolving chairs
+to fish from. These chairs have moving sockets into which you can jam
+the butt of your rod; and the backs can be removed in a flash. Then you
+can haul at a fish! The boat lies deep, with heavy ballast in the stern.
+It has a keel all the way, and an enormous rudder. Both are constructed
+so your line can slip under the boat without fouling. It is equipped
+with sail and a powerful engine. Danielson can turn this boat, going at
+full speed, in its own length! Consider the merit of this when a tuna
+strikes, or a swordfish starts for the open sea. How many tarpon,
+barracuda, amberjack, and tuna I have lost on the Atlantic seaboard just
+because the boat could not be turned in time!
+
+ [Illustration: THE WILD OATS SLOPE OF CLEMENTE]
+
+ [Illustration: WHERE THE DEEP-BLUE SWELL BOOMS AGAINST THE LAVA WALL
+ OF CLEMENTE ISLAND]
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Clemente Island is a mountain of cliffs and caves. It must be of
+volcanic origin, and when the lava rose, hot and boiling, great
+blow-holes formed, and hardened to make the caves. It is an exceedingly
+beautiful island. The fishing side is on the north, or lee, shore, where
+the water is very deep right off the rocks. There are kelp-beds along
+the shore, and the combination of deep water, kelp, and small fish is
+what holds the swordfish there in August and September. I have seen
+acres of flying-fish in the air at once, and great swarms of yellowtail,
+basking on the surface. The color of the water is indigo blue, clear as
+crystal. Always a fascinating thing for me was to watch the water for
+new and different fish, strange marine creatures, life of some kind. And
+the watching was always rewarded. I have been close to schools of
+devilish blackfish, and I have watched great whales play all around me.
+What a spectacle to see a whale roll and dip his enormous body and bend
+and sound, lifting the huge, glistening flukes of his tail, wide as a
+house! I hate sharks and have caught many, both little and big. When you
+are watching for swordfish it is no fun to have a big shark break for
+your bait, throw the water, get your hook, and lift you from your seat.
+It happened often. But sometimes when I was sure it was a shark it was
+really a swordfish! I used to love to watch the sunfish leap, they are
+so round and glistening and awkward. I could tell one two miles away.
+The blue shark leaps often and he always turns clear over. You cannot
+mistake it. Nor can you mistake a swordfish when he breaks, even though
+you only see the splash. He makes two great sheets of water rise and
+fall. Probably all these fish leap to shake off the remoras. A remora is
+a parasite, a queer little fish, pale in color, because he probably
+lives inside the gills of the fish he preys upon, with the suckers on
+top of his head, arranged in a shield, ribbed like a washboard. This
+little fish is as mysterious as any creature of the sea. He is as swift
+as lightning. He can run over the body of a swordfish so quickly you
+can scarcely follow his movement, and at all times he is fast to the
+swordfish, holding with that flat sucker head. Mr. Holder wrote years
+ago that the remora sticks to a fish just to be carried along, as a
+means of travel, but I do not incline to this belief. We found many
+remoras inside the gills of swordfish, and their presence there was
+evidence of their blood-sucking tendencies. I used to search every
+swordfish for these remoras, and I would keep them in a bucket till
+we got to our anchorage. A school of tame rock-bass there, and tame
+yellowtail, and a few great sea-bass were always waiting for us--for our
+discarded bait or fish of some kind. But when I threw in a live remora,
+how these hungry fish did dart away! Life in the ocean is strange,
+complex, ferocious, and wonderful.
+
+Al Shade keeps the only camp at Clemente. It is a clean, comfortable,
+delightful place. I have found no place where sleep is so easy, so
+sweet, so deep. Shade lives a lonely life there ten months in the year.
+And it is no wonder that when a fisherman arrives Al almost kills
+himself in his good humor and kindness and usefulness. Men who live
+lonely lives are always glad to see their fellow-men. But he loves
+Clemente Island. Who would not?
+
+When I think of it many pictures come to mind--evening with the sea
+rolling high and waves curving shoreward in great dark ripples, that
+break and spread white and run up the strand. The sky is pale blue
+above, a green sheen low down, with white stars blinking. The
+promontories run down into the sea, sheer, black, rugged, bold, mighty.
+The surf is loud and deep, detonating, and the pebbles scream as the
+waves draw them down. Strange to realize that surf when on the morrow
+the sea will be like glass--not a wave nor a ripple under the gray fog!
+Wild and beautiful Clemente--the island of caves and canons and
+cliffs--lilac and cactus and ice-plant and arbor-vitae and ironwood, with
+the wild goats silhouetted dark against the bold sky-line!
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+There came that day of all days. I never believed Captain Dan, but now I
+shall never forget. The greatest day that ever befell me! I brought four
+swordfish to gaff and whipped another, the biggest one of the whole
+trip, and saw him tear away from the hook just at the last--in all, nine
+hours of strenuous hanging on to a rod.
+
+I caught the first one before six o'clock, as the sun was rising
+red-gold, dazzling, glorious. He leaped in the sun eleven times. He
+weighed one hundred and eighty-seven.
+
+After breakfast we sighted two swordfish on the smooth sea. Both charged
+the bait. I hooked one of these and he leaped twenty-three times. He
+weighed one hundred and sixty-eight.
+
+Then off the east end we saw a big swordfish leap five times. We went
+out toward the open sea. But we never got anywhere near him. I had three
+strikes, one after another, when we were speeding the boat. Then we shut
+down and took to slow trolling. I saw another swordfish sail for my
+bait, and yelled. He shot off with the bait and his dorsal fin stuck out
+of the water. I hooked him. He leaped thirty-eight times. How the camera
+did snap during this fight! He weighed two hundred and ten.
+
+I had a fierce strike on the way in. Too fast! We lost him.
+
+"The sea's alive with swordfish!" cried Captain Dan. "It's the day!"
+
+Then I awoke to my opportunity.
+
+Round the east end, close to the great black bluff, where the swells
+pile up so thunderously, I spied the biggest purple fin I had ever seen.
+This fellow came to meet us--took my bait. I hooked at him, but did not
+hurt or scare him. Finally I pulled the hook out of him. While I was
+reeling in my line suddenly a huge purple shadow hove in sight. It was
+the swordfish--and certainly one of immense size--the hugest yet.
+
+"He's following the boat!" yelled Captain Dan, in great excitement.
+
+So I saw, but I could not speak or yell. All was intense excitement on
+that boat. I jumped up on the stern, holding the bait Captain Dan had
+put on my hook. Then I paused to look. We all looked, spellbound. That
+was a sight of a lifetime. There he swam, the monster, a few feet under
+the surface, only a rod back of the boat. I had no calm judgment with
+which to measure his dimensions. I only saw that he was tremendous and
+beautiful. His great, yard-wide fins gleamed royal purple. And the
+purple strips crossed his silver sides. He glowed in the water, changed
+color like a chameleon, and drifted, floated after us. I thought of my
+brother Reddy--how he would have gloried in that sight! I thought of
+Dilg, of Bob Davis, of Professor Kellogg--other great fishermen, all in
+a flash. Indeed, though I gloated over my fortune, I was not selfish.
+Then I threw in the flying-fish bait. The swordfish loomed up, while my
+heart ceased to beat. There, in plain sight, he took the bait, as a
+trout might have taken a grasshopper. Slowly he sank. The line began to
+slip off the reel. He ceased to be a bright purple mass--grew dim--then
+vague--and disappeared.
+
+I sat down, jammed the rod in the socket, and got ready. For the life of
+me I could not steady my legs.
+
+"What'll he weigh?" I gasped.
+
+"O Lord! he looked twice as big as the big one you got," replied Dan.
+
+"Stand by with the cameras!" I said to my companions, and as they lined
+up, two on one side and one on the other, I began to strike at that fish
+with all my might and main. I must have had at least twelve powerful
+strikes before he began to wake up.
+
+Then!
+
+He came up, throwing the water in angry spouts. If he did not threaten
+the boat I was crazy. He began an exhibition that dwarfed any other I
+had seen, and it was so swift that I could scarcely follow him. Yet when
+I saw the line rise, and then the wonderful, long, shiny body, instinct
+with fury, shoot into the air, I yelled the number of the leap, and this
+was the signal for the camera-workers. They held the cameras close,
+without trying to focus, facing the fish, and they snapped when I
+yelled. It was all gloriously exciting. I could never describe that
+exhibition. I only know that he leaped clear forty-six times, and after
+a swift, hard hour for me he got away. Strangely, I was almost happy
+that he had shaken loose, for he had given such remarkable opportunities
+for pictures.
+
+Captain Dan threw the wheel hard over and the boat turned. The
+swordfish, tired out and unconscious of freedom, was floating near the
+surface, a drifting blaze of purple. The boat sheered close to him.
+Captain Dan reached over with a gaff--and all but gaffed that swordfish
+before he sank too deep. Captain Dan was white with disappointment. That
+more than anything showed me his earnestness, what it all meant to him.
+
+On the way in, for we had been led out a couple of miles, I saw a blue
+streak after my bait, and I was ready before the swordfish got to it. He
+struck viciously and I dared not let him have much line. When I hooked
+him he started out to sea at a clip that smoked the line off my reel.
+Captain Dan got the boat turned before the swordfish began to leap. Then
+it was almost a straightaway race. This fellow was a greyhound leaper.
+He did not churn the water, nor dash to and fro on the surface, but kept
+steadily leaping ahead. He cleared the water thirty-nine times before he
+gave up leaping. Then he sounded. The line went slack. I thought he was
+gone. Suddenly he showed again, in a white splash, and he was not half
+as far away as when he went down. Then I felt the pull on the line. It
+was heavy, for he had left a great bag in it. I endeavored to recover
+line, but it came in very slowly. The swordfish then threshed on the
+surface so that we could hear the water crack. But he did not leap
+again. He had gone mad with rage. He seemed to have no sense of
+direction. He went down again, only to rush up, still closer to us. Then
+it was plain he saw the nature of his foe. Splitting water like a swift
+motor-boat, he charged us.
+
+I had a cold sensation, but was too excited to be afraid. Almost I
+forgot to reel in.
+
+"He's after us!" I said, grimly.
+
+Captain Dan started the boat ahead fast. The swordfish got out of line
+with the boat. But he was close, and he made me think of the charging
+rhinoceros Dugmore photographed. And then I yelled for the cameras to be
+snapped. They all clicked--and then, when the swordfish shot close
+behind us, presenting the most magnificent picture, no one was ready!
+
+As he passed I thought I saw the line round his body. Then he sounded
+and began to plug. He towed us six miles out to sea. I could not stop
+him. I had begun to weaken. My hands were sights. My back hurt. But I
+stayed with him. He felt like a log and I could not recover line.
+Captain Dan said it was because I was almost all in, but I did not think
+that. Presently this swordfish turned inshore and towed us back the six
+miles. By this time it was late and I _was_ all in. But the swordfish
+did not seem nearer the boat. I got mad and found some reserve strength.
+I simply had to bring him to gaff. I pulled and pumped and wound until I
+was blind and could scarcely feel. My old blisters opened and bled. My
+left arm was dead. I seemed to have no more strength than a kitten. I
+could not lead the fish nor turn him. I had to drag and drag, inch by
+inch. It was agonizing. But finally I was encouraged by sight of him, a
+long, fine, game fellow. A hundred times I got the end of the double
+line near the leader in sight, only to lose it.
+
+Seven o'clock passed. I had fought this swordfish nearly three hours. I
+could not last much longer. I rested a little, holding hard, and then
+began a last and desperate effort to bring him to gaff. I was absolutely
+dripping with sweat, and red flashes passed before my eyes, and queer
+dots. The last supreme pull--all I had left--brought the end of the
+leader to Captain Dan's outstretched hand.
+
+The swordfish came in broadside. In the clear water we saw him plainly,
+beautifully striped tiger that he was! And we all saw that he had not
+been hooked. He had been lassoed. In some way the leader had looped
+around him with the hook catching under the wire. No wonder it had
+nearly killed me to bring him to the boat, and surely I never would have
+succeeded had it not been for the record Captain Dan coveted. That was
+the strangest feature in all my wonderful Clemente experience--to see
+that superb swordfish looped in a noose of my long leader. He was
+without a scratch. It may serve to give some faint idea of the
+bewildering possibilities in the pursuit of this royal purple game of
+the Pacific.
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+TWO FIGHTS WITH SWORDFISH
+
+
+My first day at Avalon, 1916, was one likely to be memorable among my
+fishing experiences.
+
+The weather (August 2d) was delightful--smooth, rippling sea, no wind,
+clear sky and warm. The Sierra Nevada Mountains shone dark above the
+horizon.
+
+A little before noon we passed my friend Lone Angler, who hailed us and
+said there was a big broadbill swordfish off in the steamer-course. We
+steered off in that direction.
+
+There were sunfish and sharks showing all around. Once I saw a whale.
+The sea was glassy, with a long, heaving swell. Birds were plentiful in
+scattered groups.
+
+We ran across a shark of small size and tried to get him to take a bait.
+He refused. A little later Captain Dan espied a fin, and upon running up
+we discovered the huge, brown, leathery tail and dorsal of a broadbill
+swordfish.
+
+Captain Dan advised a long line out so that we could circle the fish
+from a distance and not scare him. I do not remember any unusual
+excitement. I was curious and interested. Remembering all I had heard
+about these fish, I did not anticipate getting a strike from him.
+
+We circled him and drew the flying-fish bait so that he would swim near
+it. As it was, I had to reel in some. Presently we had the bait some
+twenty yards ahead of him. Then Captain Dan slowed down. The broadbill
+wiggled his tail and slid out of sight. Dan said he was going for my
+bait. But I did not believe so. Several moments passed. I had given up
+any little hope I might have had when I received a quick, strong,
+vibrating strike--different from any I had ever experienced. I suppose
+the strangeness was due to the shock he gave my line when he struck the
+bait with his sword. The line paid out unsteadily and slowly. I looked
+at Dan and he looked at me. Neither of us was excited nor particularly
+elated. I guess I did not realize what was actually going on.
+
+I let him have about one hundred and fifty feet of line.
+
+When I sat down to jam the rod-butt in the socket I had awakened to
+possibilities. Throwing on the drag and winding in until my line was
+taut, I struck hard--four times. He made impossible any more attempts at
+this by starting off on a heavy, irresistible rush. But he was not fast,
+or so it seemed to me. He did not get more than four hundred feet of
+line before we ran up on him. Presently he came to the surface to thresh
+around. He did not appear scared or angry. Probably he was annoyed at
+the pricking of the hook. But he kept moving, sometimes on the surface
+and sometimes beneath. I did not fight him hard, preferring to let him
+pull out the line, and then when he rested I worked on him to recover
+it. My idea was to keep a perpetual strain upon him.
+
+I do not think I had even a hope of bringing this fish to the boat.
+
+It was twelve o'clock exactly when I hooked him, and a quarter of an
+hour sped by. My first big thrill came when he leaped. This was a
+surprise. He was fooling round, and then, all of a sudden, he broke
+water clear. It was an awkward, ponderous action, and looked as if he
+had come up backward, like a bucking bronco. His size and his long,
+sinister sword amazed me and frightened me. It gave me a cold sensation
+to realize I was hooked to a huge, dangerous fish. But that in itself
+was a new kind of thrill. No boatman fears a Marlin as he does the true
+broadbill swordfish.
+
+My second thrill came when the fish lunged on the surface in a red foam.
+If I had hooked him so he bled freely there was a chance to land him!
+This approach to encouragement, however, was short-lived. He went down,
+and if I had been hooked to a submarine I could scarcely have felt more
+helpless. He sounded about five hundred feet and then sulked. I had the
+pleasant task of pumping him up. This brought the sweat out upon me and
+loosened me up. I began to fight him harder. And it seemed that as I
+increased the strain he grew stronger and a little more active. Still
+there was not any difference in his tactics. I began to get a conception
+of the vitality and endurance of a broadbill in contrast with the speed
+and savageness of his brother fish, the Marlin, or roundbill.
+
+At two o'clock matters were about the same. I was not tired, but
+certainly the fish was not tired, either. He came to the surface just
+about as much as he sounded. I had no difficulty at all in getting back
+the line he took, at least all save a hundred feet or so. When I tried
+to lead him or lift him--then I got his point of view. He would not
+budge an inch. There seemed nothing to do but let him work on the drag,
+and when he had pulled out a few hundred feet of line we ran up on him
+and I reeled in the line. Now and then I put all the strain I could on
+the rod and worked him that way.
+
+At three o'clock I began to get tired. My hands hurt. And I concluded I
+had been rather unlucky to start on a broadbill at the very beginning.
+
+From that time he showed less frequently, and, if anything, he grew
+slower and heavier. I felt no more rushes. And along about this time I
+found I could lead him somewhat. This made me begin to work hard. Yet,
+notwithstanding, I had no hope of capturing the fish. It was only
+experience.
+
+Captain Dan kept saying: "Well, you wanted to hook up with a broadbill!
+Now how do you like it?" He had no idea I would ever land him. Several
+times I asked him to give an opinion as to the size of the swordfish,
+but he would not venture that until he had gotten a good close view of
+him.
+
+At four o'clock I made the alarming discovery that the great B-Ocean
+reel was freezing, just as my other one had frozen on my first swordfish
+the year previous. Captain Dan used language. He threw up his hands. He
+gave up. But I did not.
+
+"Dan, see here," I said. "We'll run up on him, throw off a lot of slack
+line, then cut it and tie it to another reel!"
+
+"We might do that. But it'll disqualify the fish," he replied.
+
+Captain Dan, like all the boatmen at Avalon, has fixed ideas about the
+Tuna Club and its records and requirements. It is all right, I suppose,
+for a club to have rules, and not count or credit an angler who breaks a
+rod or is driven to the expedient I had proposed. But I do not fish for
+clubs or records. I fish for the fun, the excitement, the thrill of the
+game, and I would rather let my fish go than not. So I said:
+
+"We'll certainly lose the fish if we don't change reels. I am using the
+regulation tackle, and to my mind the more tackle we use, provided we
+land the fish, the more credit is due us. It is not an easy matter to
+change reels or lines or rods with a big fish working all the time."
+
+Captain Dan acquiesced, but told me to try fighting him a while with the
+light drag and the thumb-brake. So far only the heavy drag had frozen. I
+tried Dan's idea, to my exceeding discomfort; and the result was that
+the swordfish drew far away from us. Presently the reel froze solid. The
+handle would not turn. But with the drag off the spool ran free.
+
+Then we ran away from the fish, circling and letting out slack line.
+When we came to the end of the line we turned back a little, and with a
+big slack we took the risk of cutting the line and tying it on the other
+reel. We had just got this done when the line straightened tight! I
+wound in about twelve hundred feet of line and was tired and wet when I
+had gotten in all I could pull. This brought us to within a couple of
+hundred feet of our quarry. Also it brought us to five o'clock. Five
+hours!... I began to have queer sensations--aches, pains, tremblings,
+saggings. Likewise misgivings!
+
+About this period I determined to see how close to the boat I could pull
+him. I worked. The word "worked" is not readily understood until a man
+has tried to pull a big broadbill close to the boat. I pulled until I
+saw stars and my bones cracked. Then there was another crack. The rod
+broke at the reel seat! And the reel seat was bent. Fortunately the line
+could still pay out. And I held the tip while Dan pried and hammered the
+reel off the broken butt on to another one. Then he put the tip in that
+butt, and once more I had to reel in what seemed miles and miles of
+line.
+
+Five thirty! It seemed around the end of the world for me. We had
+drifted into a tide-rip about five miles east of Avalon, and in this
+rough water I had a terrible time trying to hold my fish. When I
+discovered that I could hold him--and therefore that he was playing
+out--then there burst upon me the dazzling hope of actually bringing him
+to gaff. It is something to fight a fish for more than five hours
+without one single hope of his capture. I had done that. And now,
+suddenly, to be fired with hope gave me new strength and spirit to work.
+The pain in my hands was excruciating. I was burning all over; wet and
+slippery, and aching in every muscle. These next few minutes seemed
+longer than all the hours. I found that to put the old strain on the
+rod made me blind with pain. There was no fun, no excitement, no thrill
+now. As I labored I could not help marveling at the strange, imbecile
+pursuits of mankind. Here I was in an agony, absolutely useless. Why did
+I keep it up? I could not give up, and I concluded I was crazy.
+
+I conceived the most unreasonable hatred for that poor swordfish that
+had done nothing to me and that certainly would have been justified in
+ramming the boat.
+
+To my despair the fish sounded deep, going down and down. Captain Dan
+watched the line. Finally it ceased to pay out.
+
+"Pump him up!" said Dan.
+
+This was funny. It was about as funny as death.
+
+I rested awhile and meditated upon the weakness of the flesh. The thing
+most desirable and beautiful in all the universe was rest. It was so
+sweet to think of that I was hard put to it to keep from tossing the rod
+overboard. There was something so desperately trying and painful in this
+fight with a broadbill. At last I drew a deep, long breath, and, with a
+pang in my breast and little stings all over me, I began to lift on him.
+He was at the bottom of the ocean. He was just as unattainable as the
+bottom of the ocean. But there are ethics of a sportsman!
+
+Inch by inch and foot by foot I pumped up this live and dragging weight.
+I sweat, I panted, I whistled, I bled--and my arms were dead, and my
+hands raw and my heart seemed about to burst.
+
+Suddenly Captain Dan electrified me.
+
+"There's the end of the double line!" he yelled.
+
+Unbelievable as it was, there the knot in the end of the short six feet
+of double line showed at the surface. I pumped and I reeled inch by
+inch.
+
+A long dark object showed indistinctly, wavered as the swells rose, then
+showed again. As I strained at the rod so I strained my eyes.
+
+"I see the leader!" yelled Dan, in great excitement.
+
+I saw it, too, and I spent the last ounce of strength left in me. Up and
+up came the long, dark, vague object.
+
+"You've got him licked!" exclaimed Dan. "Not a wag left in him!"
+
+It did seem so. And that bewildering instant saw the birth of assurance
+in me. I was going to get him! That was a grand instant for a fisherman.
+I could have lifted anything then.
+
+The swordfish became clear to my gaze. He was a devilish-looking
+monster, two feet thick across the back, twelve feet long over all, and
+he would have weighed at the least over four hundred pounds. And I had
+beaten him! That was there to be seen. He had none of the beauty and
+color of the roundbill swordfish. He was dark, almost black, with huge
+dorsal and tail, and a wicked broad sword fully four feet long. What
+terrified me was his enormous size and the deadly look of him. I
+expected to see him rush at the boat.
+
+Watching him thus, I reveled in my wonderful luck. Up to this date there
+had been only three of these rare fish caught in twenty-five years of
+Avalon fishing. And this one was far larger than those that had been
+taken.
+
+"Lift him! Closer!" called Captain Dan. "In two minutes I'll have a gaff
+in him!"
+
+I made a last effort. Dan reached for the leader.
+
+Then the hook tore out.
+
+My swordfish, without a movement of tail or fin, slowly sank--to vanish
+in the blue water.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+After resting my blistered hands for three days, which time was scarcely
+long enough to heal them, I could not resist the call of the sea.
+
+We went off Seal Rocks and trolled about five miles out. We met a
+sand-dabber who said he had seen a big broadbill back a ways. So we
+turned round. After a while I saw a big, vicious splash half a mile
+east, and we made for it. Then I soon espied the fish.
+
+We worked around him awhile, but he would not take a barracuda or a
+flying-fish.
+
+It was hard to keep track of him, on account of rough water. Soon he
+went down.
+
+Then a little later I saw what Dan called a Marlin. He had big flippers,
+wide apart. I took him for a broadbill.
+
+We circled him, and before he saw a bait he leaped twice, coming about
+half out, with belly toward us. He looked huge, but just how big it was
+impossible to say.
+
+After a while he came up, and we circled him. As the bait drifted round
+before him--twenty yards or more off--he gave that little wiggle of the
+tail sickle, and went under. I waited. I had given up hope when I felt
+him hit the bait. Then he ran off, pretty fast. I let him have a long
+line. Then I sat down and struck him. He surged off, and we all got
+ready to watch him leap. But he did not show.
+
+He swam off, sounded, came up, rolled around, went down again. But we
+did not get a look at him. He fought like any other heavy swordfish.
+
+In one and one-half hours I pulled him close to the boat, and we all saw
+him. But I did not get a good look at him as he wove to and fro behind
+the boat.
+
+Then he sounded.
+
+I began to work on him, and worked harder. He seemed to get stronger all
+the time.
+
+"He feels like a broadbill, I tell you," I said to Captain Dan.
+
+Dan shook his head, yet all the same he looked dubious.
+
+Then began a slow, persistent, hard battle between me and the fish, the
+severity of which I did not realize at the time. In hours like those
+time has wings. My hands grew hot. They itched, and I wanted to remove
+the wet gloves. But I did not, and sought to keep my mind off what had
+been half-healed blisters. Neither the fish nor I made any new moves, it
+all being plug on his part and give and take on mine. Slowly and
+doggedly he worked out toward the sea, and while the hours passed, just
+as persistently he circled back.
+
+Captain Dan came to stand beside me, earnestly watching the rod bend and
+the line stretch. He shook his head.
+
+"That's a big Marlin and you've got him foul-hooked," he asserted. This
+statement was made at the end of three hours and more. I did not agree.
+Dan and I often had arguments. He always tackled me when I was in some
+such situation as this--for then, of course, he had the best of it. My
+brother Rome was in the boat that day, an intensely interested observer.
+He had not as yet hooked a swordfish.
+
+"It's a German submarine!" he declared.
+
+My brother's wife and the other ladies with us on board were inclined to
+favor my side; at least they were sorry for the fish and said he must be
+very big.
+
+"Dan, I could tell a foul-hooked fish," I asserted, positively. "This
+fellow is too alive--too limber. He doesn't sag like a dead weight."
+
+"Well, if he's not foul-hooked, then you're all in," replied the
+captain.
+
+Cheerful acquiescence is a desirable trait in any one, especially an
+angler who aspires to things, but that was left out in the ordering of
+my complex disposition. However, to get angry makes a man fight harder,
+and so it was with me.
+
+At the end of five hours Dan suggested putting the harness on me. This
+contrivance, by the way, is a thing of straps and buckles, and its use
+is to fit over an angler's shoulders and to snap on the rod. It helps
+him lift the fish, puts his shoulders more into play, rests his arms.
+But I had never worn one. I was afraid of it.
+
+"Suppose he pulls me overboard, with that on!" I exclaimed. "He'll drown
+me!"
+
+"We'll hold on to you," replied Dan, cheerily, as he strapped it around
+me.
+
+Later it turned out that I had exactly the right view concerning this
+harness, for Dustin Farnum was nearly pulled overboard and--But I have
+not space for that story here. My brother Rome wants to write that
+story, anyhow, because it is so funny, he says.
+
+On the other hand, the fact soon manifested itself to me that I could
+lift a great deal more with said harness to help. The big fish began to
+come nearer and also he began to get mad. Here I forgot the pain in my
+hands. I grew enthusiastic. And foolishly I bragged. Then I lifted so
+hard that I cracked the great Conroy rod.
+
+Dan threw up his hands. He quit, same as he quit the first day out, when
+I hooked the broadbill and the reel froze.
+
+"Disqualified fish, even if you ketch him--which you won't," he said,
+dejectedly.
+
+"Crack goes thirty-five dollars!" exclaimed my brother. "Sure is funny,
+brother, how you can decimate good money into the general atmosphere!"
+
+If there really is anything fine in the fighting of a big fish, which
+theory I have begun to doubt, certainly Captain Dan and Brother R. C.
+did not know it.
+
+Remarks were forthcoming from me, I am ashamed to state, that should not
+have been. Then I got Dan to tie splints on the rod, after which I
+fought my quarry some more. The splints broke. Dan had to bind the
+cracked rod with heavy pieces of wood and they added considerable weight
+to what had before felt like a ton.
+
+The fish had been hooked at eleven o'clock and it was now five. We had
+drifted or been pulled into the main channel, where strong currents and
+a choppy sea made the matter a pretty serious and uncomfortable one.
+Here I expended all I had left in a short and furious struggle to bring
+the fish up, if not to gaff, at least so we could see what he looked
+like. How strange and unfathomable a feeling this mystery of him gave
+rise to! If I could only see him once, then he could get away and
+welcome. Captain Dan, in anticipation of a need of much elbow room in
+that cockpit, ordered my brother and the ladies to go into the cabin or
+up on top. And they all scrambled up and lay flat on the deck-roof, with
+their heads over, watching me. They had to hold on some, too. In fact,
+they were having the time of their lives.
+
+My supreme effort brought the fish within the hundredth foot length of
+line--then my hands and my back refused any more.
+
+"Dan, here's the great chance you've always hankered for!" I said. "Now
+let's see you pull him right in!"
+
+And I passed him the rod and got up. Dan took it with the pleased
+expression of a child suddenly and wonderfully come into possession of a
+long-unattainable toy. Captain Dan was going to pull that fish right up
+to the boat. He was! Now Dan is big--he weighs two hundred; he has arms
+and hands like the limbs of a Vulcan. Perhaps Dan had every reason to
+believe he would pull the fish right up to the boat. But somehow I knew
+that he would not.
+
+My fish, perhaps feeling a new and different and mightier hand at the
+rod, showed how he liked it by a magnificent rush--the greatest of the
+whole fight--and he took about five hundred feet of line.
+
+Dan's expression changed as if by magic.
+
+"Steer the boat! Port! Port!" he yelled.
+
+Probably I could not run a boat right with perfectly fresh and well
+hands, and with my lacerated and stinging ones I surely made a mess of
+it. This brought language from my boatman--well, to say the least, quite
+disrespectable. Fortunately, however, I got the boat around and we ran
+down on the fish. Dan, working with long, powerful sweeps of the rod,
+got the line back and the fish close. The game began to look great to
+me. All along I had guessed this fish to be a wonder; and now I knew it.
+
+Hauling him close that way angered him. He made another rush, long and
+savage. The line smoked off that reel. Dan's expression was one of
+utmost gratification to me. A boatman at last cornered--tied up to a
+whale of a fish!
+
+Somewhere out there a couple of hundred yards the big fish came up and
+roared on the surface. I saw only circling wake and waves like those
+behind a speedy motor-boat. But Dan let out a strange shout, and up
+above the girls screamed, and brother Rome yelled murder or something. I
+gathered that he had a camera.
+
+"Steady up there!" I called out. "If you fall overboard it's good
+night!... For we want this fish!"
+
+I had all I could do. Dan would order me to steer this way and that--to
+throw out the clutch--to throw it in. Still I was able to keep track of
+events. This fish made nineteen rushes in the succeeding half-hour.
+Never for an instant did Captain Dan let up. Assuredly during that time
+he spent more force on the fish than I had in six hours.
+
+The sea was bad, the boat was rolling, the cockpit was inches deep under
+water many a time. I was hard put to it to stay at my post; and what
+saved the watchers above could not be explained by me.
+
+"Mebbe I can hold him now--a little," called Dan once, as he got the
+hundred-foot mark over the reel. "Strap the harness on me!"
+
+I fastened the straps round Dan's broad shoulders. His shirt was as wet
+as if he had fallen overboard. Maybe some of that wet was spray. His
+face was purple, his big arms bulging, and he whistled as he breathed.
+
+"Good-by, Dan. This will be a fitting end for a boatman," I said,
+cheerfully, as I dove back to the wheel.
+
+At six o'clock our fish was going strong and Dan was tiring fast. He
+had, of course, worked too desperately hard.
+
+Meanwhile the sun sank and the sea went down. All the west was gold and
+red, with the towers of Church Rock spiring the horizon. A flock of
+gulls were circling low, perhaps over a school of tuna. The white
+cottages of Avalon looked mere specks on the dark island.
+
+Captain Dan had the swordfish within a hundred feet of the boat and was
+able to hold him. This seemed hopeful. It looked now just a matter of a
+little more time. But Dan needed a rest.
+
+I suggested that my brother come down and take a hand in the final
+round, which I frankly confessed was liable to be hell.
+
+ [Illustration: FOUR MARLIN SWORDFISH IN ONE DAY]
+
+ [Illustration: A BIG SAILFISH BREAKING WATER]
+
+"Not on your life!" was the prompt reply. "I want to begin on a _little_
+swordfish!... Why, that--that fish hasn't waked up yet!"
+
+And I was bound to confess there seemed to me to be a good deal of sense
+in what he said.
+
+"Dan, I'll take the rod--rest you a bit--so you can finish him," I
+offered.
+
+The half-hour Dan recorded as my further work on this fish will always
+be a dark and poignant blank in my fishing experience. When it was over
+twilight had come and the fish was rolling and circling perhaps fifty
+yards from the boat.
+
+Here Dan took the rod again, and with the harness on and fresh gloves
+went at the fish in grim determination.
+
+Suddenly the moon sailed out from behind a fog-bank and the sea was
+transformed. It was as beautiful as it was lucky for us.
+
+By Herculean effort Dan brought the swordfish close. If any angler
+doubts the strength of a twenty-four thread line his experience is still
+young. That line was a rope, yet it sang like a banjo string.
+
+Leaning over the side, with two pairs of gloves on, I caught the double
+line, and as I pulled and Dan reeled the fish came up nearer. But I
+could not see him. Then I reached the leader and held on as for dear
+life.
+
+"I've got the leader!" I yelled. "Hurry, Dan!"
+
+Dan dropped the rod and reached for his gaff. But he had neglected to
+unhook the rod from the harness, and as the fish lunged and tore the
+leader away from me there came near to being disaster. However, Dan got
+straightened out and anchored in the chair and began to haul away again.
+It appeared we had the fish almost done, but he was so big that a mere
+movement of his tail irresistibly drew out the line.
+
+Then the tip of the rod broke off short just even with the splints and
+it slid down the line out of sight. Dan lowered the rod so most of the
+strain would come on the reel, and now he held like grim death.
+
+"Dan, if we don't make any more mistakes we'll get that fish!" I
+declared.
+
+The sea was almost calm now, and moon-blanched so that we could plainly
+see the line. Despite Dan's efforts, the swordfish slowly ran off a
+hundred feet more of line. Dan groaned. But I yelled with sheer
+exultation. For, standing up on the gunwale, I saw the swordfish. He had
+come up. He was phosphorescent--a long gleam of silver--and he rolled in
+the unmistakable manner of a fish nearly beaten.
+
+Suddenly he headed for the boat. It was a strange motion. I was
+surprised--then frightened. Dan reeled in rapidly. The streak of white
+gleamed closer and closer. It was like white fire--a long, savage,
+pointed shape.
+
+"Look! Look!" I yelled to those above. "Don't miss it!... Oh, great!"
+
+"He's charging the boat!" hoarsely shouted Dan.
+
+"He's all in!" yelled my brother.
+
+I jumped into the cockpit and leaned over the gunwale beside the rod.
+Then I grasped the line, letting it slip through my hands. Dan wound in
+with fierce energy. I felt the end of the double line go by me, and at
+this I let out another shout to warn Dan. Then I had the end of the
+leader--a good strong grip--and, looking down, I saw the clear silver
+outline of the hugest fish I had ever seen short of shark or whale. He
+made a beautiful, wild, frightful sight. He rolled on his back.
+Roundbill or broadbill, he had an enormous length of sword.
+
+"Come, Dan--we've got him!" I panted.
+
+Dan could not, dare not get up then.
+
+The situation was perilous. I saw how Dan clutched the reel, with his
+big thumbs biting into the line. I did my best. My sight failed me for
+an instant. But the fish pulled the leader through my hands. My brother
+leaped down to help--alas, too late!
+
+"Let go, Dan! Give him line!"
+
+But Dan was past that. Afterward he said his grip was locked. He held,
+and not another foot did the swordfish get. Again I leaned over the
+gunwale. I saw him--a monster--pale, wavering. His tail had an
+enormous spread. I could no longer see his sword. Almost he was ready to
+give up.
+
+Then the double line snapped. I fell back in the boat and Dan fell back
+in the chair.
+
+Nine hours!
+
+
+
+
+V
+
+SAILFISH--THE ATLANTIC BROTHER TO THE PACIFIC SWORDFISH
+
+
+In the winter of 1916 I persuaded Captain Sam Johnson, otherwise famous
+as Horse-mackerel Sam, of Seabright, New Jersey, to go to Long Key with
+me and see if the two of us as a team could not outwit those illusive
+and strange sailfish of the Gulf Stream.
+
+Sam and I have had many adventures going down to sea. At Seabright we
+used to launch a Seabright skiff in the gray gloom of early morning and
+shoot the surf, and return shoreward in the afternoon to ride a great
+swell clear till it broke on the sand. When I think of Sam I think of
+tuna--those torpedoes of the ocean. I have caught many tuna with Sam,
+and hooked big ones, but these giants are still roving the blue deeps.
+Once I hooked a tuna off Sandy Hook, out in the channel, and as I was
+playing him the _Lusitania_ bore down the channel. Like a mountain she
+loomed over us. I felt like an atom looking up and up. Passengers waved
+down to us as the tuna bent my rod. The great ship passed on in a
+seething roar--passed on to her tragic fate. We rode the heavy swells
+she lifted--and my tuna got away.
+
+Sam Johnson is from Norway. His ancestors lived by fishing. Sam knows
+and loves the sea. He has been a sailor before the mast, but he is more
+fisherman than sailor. He is a stalwart man, with an iron, stern,
+weather-beaten face and keen blue eyes, and he has an arm like the
+branch of an oak. For many years he has been a market fisherman at
+Seabright, where on off days he pursued the horse-mackerel for the fun
+of it, and which earned him his name. Better than any man I ever met Sam
+knows the sea; he knows fish, he knows boats and engines. And I have
+reached a time in my experience of fishing where I want that kind of a
+boatman.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Sam and I went after sailfish at Long Key and we got them. But I do not
+consider the experience conclusive. If it had not been for my
+hard-earned knowledge of the Pacific swordfish, and for Sam's keenness
+on the sea, we would not have been so fortunate. We established the
+record, but, what is more important, we showed what magnificent sport is
+possible. This advent added much to the attractiveness of Long Key for
+me. And Long Key was attractive enough before.
+
+Sailfish had been caught occasionally at Long Key, during every season.
+But I am inclined to believe that, in most instances, the capture of
+sailfish had been accident--mere fisherman's luck. Anglers have fished
+along the reef and inside, trolling with heavy tackle for anything that
+might strike, and once in a while a sailfish has somehow hooked himself.
+Mr. Schutt tells of hooking one on a Wilson spoon, and I know of another
+angler who had this happen. I know of one gentleman who told me he
+hooked a fish that he supposed was a barracuda, and while he was
+fighting this supposed barracuda he was interested in the leaping of a
+sailfish near his boat. His boatman importuned him to hurry in the
+barracuda so there would be a chance to go after the leaping sailfish.
+But it turned out that the sailfish was on his hook. Another angler went
+out with heavy rod, the great B-Ocean reel, and two big hooks (which is
+an outfit suitable only for large tuna or swordfish), and this fellow
+hooked a sailfish which had no chance and was dead in less than ten
+minutes. A party of anglers were out on the reef, fishing for anything,
+and they decided to take a turn outside where I had been spending days
+after sailfish. Scarcely had these men left the reef when five sailfish
+loomed up and all of them, with that perversity and capriciousness which
+makes fish so incomprehensible, tried to climb on board the boat. One, a
+heavy fish, did succeed in hooking himself and getting aboard. I could
+multiply events of this nature, but this is enough to illustrate my
+point--that there is a vast difference between several fishermen out of
+thousands bringing in several sailfish in one season and one fisherman
+deliberately going after sailfish with light tackle and eventually
+getting them.
+
+It is not easy. On the contrary, it is extremely hard. It takes infinite
+patience, and very much has to be learned that can be learned only by
+experience. But it is magnificent sport and worth any effort. It makes
+tarpon-fishing tame by comparison. Tarpon-fishing is easy. Anybody can
+catch a tarpon by going after him. But not every fisherman can catch a
+sailfish. One fisherman out of a hundred will get his sailfish, but only
+one out of a thousand will experience the wonder and thrill and beauty
+of the sport.
+
+Sailfishing is really swordfishing, and herein lies the secret of my
+success at Long Key. I am not satisfied that the sailfish I caught were
+all Marlin and brothers to the Pacific Marlin. The Atlantic fish are
+very much smaller than those of the Pacific, and are differently marked
+and built. Yet they are near enough alike to be brothers.
+
+There are three species that I know of in southern waters. The
+_Histiophorus_, the sailfish about which I am writing and of which
+descriptions follow. There is another species, _Tetrapturus albidus_,
+that is not uncommon in the Gulf Stream. It is my impression that this
+species is larger. The Indians, with whom I fished in the Caribbean,
+tell of a great swordfish--in Spanish the _Aguja de casta_, and this
+species must be related to _Xiphias_, the magnificent flatbilled
+swordfish of the Atlantic and Pacific.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The morning of my greatest day with sailfish I was out in the Gulf
+Stream, seven miles offshore, before the other fishermen had gotten out
+of bed. We saw the sun rise ruddy and bright out of the eastern sea, and
+we saw sailfish leap as if to welcome the rising of the lord of day. A
+dark, glancing ripple wavered over the water; there was just enough
+swell to make seeing fish easy.
+
+I was using a rod that weighed nine ounces over all, and twelve hundred
+feet of fifteen-thread line. I was not satisfied then that the regular
+light outfit of the Tuna Club, such as I used at Avalon, would do for
+sailfish. No. 9 breaks of its own weight. And I have had a sailfish run
+off three hundred yards of line and jump all the time he was doing it.
+Besides, nobody knows how large these sailfish grow. I had hold of one
+that would certainly have broken my line if he had not thrown the hook.
+
+On this memorable day I had scarcely trolled half a mile out into the
+Stream before I felt that inexplicable rap at my bait which swordfish
+and sailfish make with their bills. I jumped up and got ready. I saw a
+long bronze shape back of my bait. Then I saw and felt him take hold. He
+certainly did not encounter the slightest resistance in running out my
+line. He swam off slowly. I never had Sam throw out the clutch and stop
+the boat until after I had hooked the fish. I wanted the boat to keep
+moving, so if I did get a chance to strike at a fish it would be with a
+tight line. These sailfish are wary and this procedure is difficult. If
+the fish had run off swiftly I would have struck sooner. Everything
+depends on how he takes the bait. This fellow took fifty feet of line
+before I hooked him.
+
+He came up at once, and with two-thirds of his body out of the water he
+began to skitter toward us. He looked silver and bronze in the morning
+light. There was excitement on board. Sam threw out the clutch. My
+companions dove for the cameras, and we all yelled. The sailfish came
+skittering toward us. It was a spectacular and thrilling sight. He was
+not powerful enough to rise clear on his tail and do the famous trick of
+the Pacific swordfish--"walking on the water." But he gave a mighty
+good imitation. Then before the cameras got in a snap he went down. And
+he ran, to come up far astern and begin to leap. I threw off the drag
+and yelled, "Go!"
+
+ [Illustration: FOUR SAILFISH IN ONE DAY ON LIGHT TACKLE]
+
+ [Illustration: Photo by Wunstorf
+ SAILFISH THRESHING ON THE SURFACE]
+
+This was pleasant for Sam, who kept repeating, "Look at him yump!"
+
+The sailfish evidently wanted to pose for pictures, for he gave a
+wonderful exhibition of high and lofty tumbling, with the result, of
+course, that he quickly exhausted himself. Then came a short period
+during which he sounded and I slowly worked him closer. Presently he
+swam toward the boat--the old swordfish trick. I never liked it, but
+with the sailfish I at least was not nervous about him attacking the
+boat. Let me add here that this freedom from dread--which is never
+absent during the fighting of a big swordfish--is one of the features so
+attractive in sailfishing. Besides, fish that have been hooked for any
+length of time, if they are going to shake or break loose, always do so
+near the boat. We moved away from this fellow, and presently he came up
+again, and leaped three more times clear, making nineteen leaps in all.
+That about finished his performance, so regretfully I led him alongside;
+and Sam, who had profited by our other days of landing sailfish, took
+him cautiously by the sword, and then by the gills, and slid him into
+the boat.
+
+Sailfish are never alike, except in general outline. This one was silver
+and bronze, with green bars, rather faint, and a dark-blue sail without
+any spots. He measured seven feet one inch. But we measured his quality
+by his leaps and nineteen gave him the record for us so far.
+
+We stowed him up in the bow and got under way again, and scarcely had I
+let my bait far enough astern when a sailfish hit it. In fact, he rushed
+it. Quick as I was, which was as quick as a flash, I was not quick
+enough for that fish. He felt the hook and he went away. But he had been
+there long enough to get my bait.
+
+Just then Sam pointed. I saw a sailfish break water a hundred yards
+away.
+
+"Look at him yump!" repeated Sam, every time the fish came out, which,
+to be exact, was five times.
+
+"We'll go over and pick him up," I said.
+
+Sam and I always argue a little about the exact spot where a fish has
+broken water. I never missed it far, but Sam seldom missed it at all. He
+could tell by a slight foam always left by the break. We had two baits
+out, as one or another of my companions always holds a rod. The more
+baits out the better! We had two vicious, smashing strikes at the same
+time. The fish on the other rod let go just as I hooked mine.
+
+He came up beautifully, throwing the spray, glinting in the sun, an
+angry fish with sail spread and his fins going. Then on the boat was the
+same old thrilling bustle and excitement and hilarity I knew so well and
+which always pleased me so much. This sailfish was a jumper.
+
+"Look at him yump!" exclaimed Sam, with as much glee as if he had not
+seen it before.
+
+The cameras got busy. Then I was attracted by something flashing in the
+water nearer the boat than my fish. Suddenly a sailfish leaped,
+straightaway, over my line. Then two leaped at once, both directly over
+my line.
+
+"Sam, they'll cut my line!" I cried. "What do you think of that?"
+
+Suddenly I saw sharp, dark, curved tails cutting the water. All was
+excitement on board that boat then.
+
+"A school of sailfish! Look! Look!" I yelled.
+
+I counted ten tails, but there were more than that, and if I had been
+quicker I could have counted more. Presently they went down. And I,
+returning to earth and the business of fishing, discovered that during
+the excitement my sailfish had taken advantage of a perfectly loose line
+to free himself. Nine leaps we recorded him!
+
+Assuredly we all felt that there would be no difficulty in soon hooking
+up with another sailfish. And precisely three minutes later I was
+standing up, leaning forward, all aquiver, watching my line fly off the
+reel. I hooked that fellow hard. He was heavy, and he did not come up or
+take off any length of line. Settling down slowly, he descended three or
+four hundred feet, or so it seemed, and began to plug, very much like an
+albacore, only much heavier. He fooled around down there for ten
+minutes, with me jerking at him all the time to irritate him, before he
+showed any sign of rising. At last I worried him into a fighting mood,
+and up he came, so fast that I did not even try to take up the slack,
+and he shot straight up. This jump, like that of a kingfish, was
+wonderful. But it was so quick that the cameras could not cover it, and
+we missed a great picture. He went down, only to leap again. I reeled
+in the slack line and began to jerk at him to torment him, and I got him
+to jumping and threshing right near the boat. The sun was in the faces
+of the cameras and that was bad. And as it turned out not one of these
+exposures was good. What a chance missed! But we did not know that then,
+and we kept on tormenting him and snapping pictures of his leaps. In
+this way, which was not careless, but deliberate, I played with him
+until he shook out the hook. Fifteen leaps was his record.
+
+Then it was interesting to see how soon I could raise another fish. I
+was on the _qui vive_ for a while, then settled back to the old
+expectant watchfulness. And presently I was rewarded by that vibrating
+rap at my bait. I stood up so the better to see. The swells were just
+right and the sun was over my shoulder. I spied the long, dark shape
+back of my bait, saw it slide up and strike, felt the sharp rap--and
+again. Then came the gentle tug. I let out line, but he let go. Still I
+could see him plainly when the swell was right. I began to jerk my bait,
+to give it a jumping motion, as I had so often done with flying-fish
+bait when after swordfish. He sheered off, then turned with a rush,
+broadside on, with his sail up. I saw him clearly, his whole length, and
+he appeared blue and green and silver. He took the bait and turned away
+from me, and when I struck the hook into his jaw I felt that it would
+stay. He was not a jumper--only breaking clear twice. I could not make
+him leap. He fought hard enough, however, and with that tackle took
+thirty minutes to land.
+
+It was eight o'clock. I had two sailfish in the boat and had fought two
+besides. And at that time I sighted the first fishing-boat coming out
+toward the reef. Before that boat got out near us I had struck and lost
+three more sailfish, with eleven leaps in all to my credit. This boatman
+had followed Sam and me the day before and he appeared to be bent upon
+repeating himself. I thought I would rather enjoy that, because he had
+two inexperienced anglers aboard, and they, in the midst of a school of
+striking sailfish, would be sure to afford some fun. Three other boats
+came out across the reef, ventured a little way in the Gulf Stream, and
+then went back to grouper and barracuda. But that one boatman, B., stuck
+to us. And right away things began to happen to his anglers. No one so
+lucky in strikes as a green hand! I saw them get nine strikes without
+hooking a fish. And there appeared to be a turmoil on board that boat. I
+saw B. tearing his hair and the fishermen frantically jerking, and then
+waving rods and arms. Much as I enjoyed it, Sam enjoyed it more. But I
+was not mean enough to begrudge them a fish and believed that sooner or
+later they would catch one.
+
+Presently, when B.'s boat was just right for his anglers to see
+everything my way, I felt a tug on my line. I leaped up, let the reel
+run. Then I threw on my drag and leaned over to strike. But he let go.
+Quickly I threw off the drag. The sailfish came back. Another tug! I let
+him run. Then threw on the drag and got ready. But, no, he let go. Again
+I threw off the drag and again he came back. He was hungry, but he was
+cunning, too, and too far back for me to see. I let him run fifty feet,
+threw on the drag, and struck hard. No go! I missed him. But again I
+threw off the drag, let out more line back to him, and he took the bait
+the fourth time, and harder than ever. I let him run perhaps a hundred
+feet. All the time, of course, my boat was running. I had out a long
+line--two hundred yards. Then I threw on the drag and almost cracked the
+rod. This time I actually felt the hook go in.
+
+How heavy and fast he was! The line slipped off and I was afraid of the
+drag. I threw it off--no easy matter with that weight on it--and then
+the line whistled. The sailfish was running straight toward B.'s boat
+and, I calculated, should be close to it.
+
+"Sam," I yelled, "watch him! If he jumps he'll jump into that boat!"
+
+Then he came out, the biggest sailfish I ever saw, and he leaped
+magnificently, not twenty yards back of that boat. He must have been
+beyond the lines of the trolling anglers. I expected him to cross them
+or cut himself loose. We yelled to B. to steer off, and while we yelled
+the big sailfish leaped and leaped, apparently keeping just as close to
+the boat. He certainly was right upon it and he was a savage leaper. He
+would shoot up, wag his head, his sail spread like the ears of a mad
+elephant, and he would turn clear over to alight with a smack and splash
+that we plainly heard. And he had out nine hundred feet of line. Because
+of his size I wanted him badly, but, badly as that was, I fought him
+without a drag, let him run and leap, and I hoped he would jump right
+into that boat. Afterward these anglers told me they expected him to do
+just that and were scared to death. Also they said a close sight of him
+leaping was beautiful and thrilling in the extreme.
+
+I did not keep track of all this sailfish's leaps, but Sam recorded
+twenty-three, and that is enough for any fisherman. I venture to state
+that it will not be beaten very soon. When he stopped leaping we drew
+him away from the other boat, and settled down to a hard fight with a
+heavy, stubborn, game fish. In perhaps half an hour I had him twenty
+yards away, and there he stayed while I stood up on the stern to watch
+him and keep clear of the propeller. He weaved from side to side,
+exactly like a tired swordfish, and every now and then he would stick
+out his bill and swish! he would cut at the leader. This fish was not
+only much larger than any I had seen, but also more brilliantly colored.
+There were suggestions of purple that reminded me of the swordfish--that
+royal purple game of the Pacific. Another striking feature was that in
+certain lights he was a vivid green, and again, when deeper, he assumed
+a strange, triangular shape, much like that of a kite. That, of course,
+was when he extended the wide, waving sail. I was not able to see that
+this sail afforded him any particular aid. It took me an hour to tire
+out this sailfish, and when we got him in the boat he measured seven
+feet and six inches, which was four inches longer than any record I
+could find then.
+
+At eleven o'clock I had another in the boat, making four sailfish in
+all. We got fourteen jumps out of this last one. That was the end of my
+remarkable luck, though it was luck to me to hook other sailfish during
+the afternoon, and running up the number of leaps. I am proud of that,
+anyway, and to those who criticized my catch as unsportsman-like I could
+only say that it was a chance of a lifetime and I was after photographs
+of leaping sailfish. Besides, I had a great opportunity to beat my
+record of four swordfish in one day at Clemente Island in the Pacific.
+But I was not equal to it.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I do not know how to catch sailfish yet, though I have caught a good
+many. The sport is young and it is as difficult as it is trying. This
+catch of mine made fishermen flock to the Stream all the rest of the
+season, and more fish were caught than formerly. But the proportion held
+about the same, although I consider that fishing for a sailfish and
+catching one is a great gain in point. Still, we do not know much about
+sailfish or how to take them. If I got twenty strikes and caught only
+four fish, very likely the smallest that bit, I most assuredly was not
+doing skilful fishing as compared with other kinds of fishing. And there
+is the rub. Sailfish are not any other kind of fish. They have a wary
+and cunning habit, with an exceptional occasion of blind hunger, and
+they have small, bony jaws into which it is hard to sink a hook. Not one
+of my sailfish was hooked deep down. Yet I let nearly all of them run
+out a long line. Moreover, as I said before, if a sailfish is hooked
+there are ten chances to one that he will free himself.
+
+ [Illustration: MEMORABLE OF LONG KEY]
+
+ [Illustration: LEAPING SAILFISH]
+
+This one thing, then, I believe I have proved to myself--that the
+sailfish is the gamest, the most beautiful and spectacular, and the
+hardest fish to catch on light tackle, just as his brother, the Pacific
+swordfish, is the grandest fish to take on the heaviest of tackle.
+
+Long Key, indeed, has its charm. Most all the anglers who visit there go
+back again. Only the queer ones--and there are many--who want three
+kinds of boats, and nine kinds of bait, and a deep-sea diver for a
+boatman, and tackle that cannot be broken, and smooth, calm seas always,
+and five hundred pounds of fish a day--only that kind complain of Long
+Key and kick--and yet go back again!
+
+Sailfish will draw more and finer anglers down to the white strip of
+color that shines white all day under a white sun and the same all night
+under white stars. But it is not alone the fish that draws real
+sportsmen to a place and makes them love it and profit by their return.
+It is the spirit of the place--the mystery, like that of the little
+hermit-crab, which crawls over the coral sand in his stolen shell, and
+keeps to his lonely course, and loves his life so well--sunshine, which
+is best of all for men; and the wind in the waving palms; and the
+lonely, wandering coast with the eternal moan out on the reefs, the
+sweet, fresh tang, the clear, antiseptic breath of salt, and always by
+the glowing, hot, colorful day or by the soft dark night with its
+shadows and whisperings on the beach, that significant presence--the
+sense of something vaster than the heaving sea.
+
+
+               _Light Tackle in the Gulf Stream_
+
+In view of the present controversy between light tackle and heavy tackle
+champions, I think it advisable for me to state more definitely my stand
+on the matter of light tackle before going on with a story about it.
+
+There is a sharp line to be drawn between light tackle that is right and
+light tackle that is wrong. So few anglers ever seem to think of the
+case of the poor fish! In Borneo there is a species of lightning-bug
+that tourists carry around at night on spits, delighted with the
+novelty. But is that not rather hard on the lightning-bugs? As a matter
+of fact, if we are to develop as anglers who believe in conservation and
+sportsmanship, we must consider the fish--his right to life, and,
+especially if he must be killed, to do it without brutality.
+
+Brutal it is to haul in a fish on tackle so heavy that he has no chance
+for his life; likewise it is brutal to hook a fish on tackle so light
+that, if he does not break it, he must be followed around and all over,
+chased by a motor-boat hour after hour, until he practically dies of
+exhaustion.
+
+I have had many tarpon and many tuna taken off my hooks by sharks
+because I was using tackle too light. It never appeared an impossible
+feat to catch Marlin swordfish on a nine-thread line, nor sailfish on a
+six-thread line. But those lines are too light.
+
+My business is to tell stories. If I can be so fortunate as to make them
+thrilling and pleasing, for the edification of thousands who have other
+business and therefore less leisure, then that is a splendid thing for
+me. It is a responsibility that I appreciate. But on the other hand I
+must tell the truth, I must show my own development, I must be of
+service to the many who have so much more time to read than fish. It is
+not enough to give pleasure merely; a writer should instruct. And if
+what I say above offends any fisherman, I am sorry, and I suggest that
+he read it twice.
+
+What weight tackle to use is not such a hard problem to decide. All it
+takes is some experience. To quote Mr. Bates, "The principle is that the
+angler should subdue the fish by his skill with rod and line, and put
+his strength into the battle to _end_ it, and not employ a worrying
+process to a frightened fish that does not know what it is fighting."
+
+
+
+
+VI
+
+GULF STREAM FISHING
+
+
+Some years have passed since I advocated light tackle fishing at Long
+Key. In the early days of this famous resort most fishermen used hand
+lines or very heavy outfits. The difficulties of introducing a
+sportsman-like ideal have been manifold. A good rule of angling
+philosophy is not to interfere with any fisherman's peculiar ways of
+being happy, unless you want to be hated. It is not easy to influence a
+majority of men in the interests of conservation. Half of them do not
+know the conditions and are only out for a few days' or weeks' fun; the
+rest do not care. But the facts are that all food fish and game fish
+must be conserved. The waste has been enormous. If fishermen will only
+study the use of light tackle they will soon appreciate a finer sport,
+more fun and gratification, and a saving of fish.
+
+Such expert and fine anglers as Crowninshield, Heilner, Cassiard,
+Lester, Conill, and others are all enthusiastic about light tackle and
+they preach the gospel of conservation.
+
+But the boatmen of Long Key, with the exception of Jordon, are all
+against light tackle. I must say that James Jordon is to be
+congratulated and recommended. The trouble at Long Key is that new
+boatmen are hired each season, and, as they do not own their boats, all
+their interest centers in as big a catch as possible for each angler
+they take out, in the hope and expectation, of course, of a generous
+tip. Heavy tackle means a big catch and light tackle the reverse. And so
+tons of good food and game fish are brought in only to be thrown to the
+sharks. I mention this here to give it a wide publicity. It is criminal
+in these days and ought to be stopped.
+
+The season of 1918 was a disappointment in regard to any great
+enthusiasm over the use of light tackle. We have tried to introduce
+principles of the Tuna Club of Avalon. President Coxe of the Pacific
+organization is doing much to revive the earlier ideals of Doctor
+Holder, founder of the famous club. This year at Long Key a number of
+prizes were offered by individual members. The contention was that the
+light tackle specified was too light. This is absolutely a mistake. I
+have proved that the regulation Tuna Club nine-thread line and six-ounce
+tip are strong enough, if great care and skill be employed, to take the
+tricky, hard-jawed, wild-leaping sailfish.
+
+And for bonefish, that rare fighter known to so few anglers, the
+three-six tackle--a three-ounce tip and six-thread line--is just the
+ideal rig to make the sport exceedingly difficult, fascinating, and
+thrilling. Old bonefishermen almost invariably use heavy tackle--stiff
+rods and twelve-or fifteen-thread lines. They have their arguments, and
+indeed these are hard nuts to crack. They claim three-six for the swift
+and powerful bonefish is simply absurd. No! I can prove otherwise. But
+that must be another story.
+
+Some one must pioneer these sorely needed reforms. It may be a thankless
+task, but it is one that some of us are standing by. We need the help of
+brother anglers.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+One morning in February there was a light breeze from the north and the
+day promised to be ideal. We ran out to the buoy and found the Gulf
+Stream a very dark blue, with a low ripple and a few white-caps here and
+there.
+
+Above the spindle we began to see sailfish jumping everywhere. One
+leaped thirteen times, and another nineteen. Many of them came out
+sidewise, with a long, sliding plunge, which action at first I took to
+be that made by a feeding fish. After a while, however, and upon closer
+view, I changed my mind about this.
+
+My method, upon seeing a fish jump, was to speed up the boat until we
+were in the vicinity where the fish had come up. Then we would slow down
+and begin trolling, with two baits out, one some forty or fifty feet
+back and the other considerably farther.
+
+We covered several places where we had seen the sheetlike splashes; and
+at the third or fourth I felt the old electrifying tap at my bait. I
+leaped up and let my bait run back. The sailfish tapped again, then took
+hold so hard and ran off so swiftly that I jerked sooner than usual. I
+pulled the bait away from him. All this time the boat was running.
+Instead of winding in I let the bait run back. Suddenly the sailfish
+took it fiercely. I let him run a long way before I struck at him, and
+then I called to the boatman to throw out the clutch. When the boat is
+moving there is a better chance of a tight line while striking, and that
+is imperative if an angler expects to hook the majority of these
+illusive sailfish. I hooked this fellow, and he showed at once, a small
+fish, and began to leap toward the boat, making a big bag in the line. I
+completely lost the feel of his weight. When he went down, and with all
+that slack line, I thought he was gone. But presently the line tightened
+and he began to jump in another direction. He came out twice with his
+sail spread, a splendid, vivid picture; then he took to skittering,
+occasionally throwing himself clear, and he made some surface runs,
+splashing and threshing, and then made some clean greyhound-like leaps.
+In all he cleared the water eleven times before he settled down. After
+that it took me half an hour to land him. He was not hurt and we let him
+go.
+
+Soon after we got going again we raised a school of four or more
+sailfish. And when a number rush for the baits it is always exciting.
+The first fish hit my bait and the second took R. C.'s. I saw both fish
+in action, and there is considerable difference between the hitting and
+the taking of a bait. R. C. jerked his bait away from his fish and I
+yelled for him to let it run back. He did so. A bronze and silver blaze
+and a boil on the water told me how hungry R. C.'s sailfish was. "Let
+him run with it!" I yelled. Then I attended to my own troubles. There
+was a fish rapping at my bait. I let out line, yard after yard, but he
+would not take hold, and, as R. C.'s line was sweeping over mine, I
+thought best to reel in.
+
+"Hook him now!" I yelled.
+
+I surely did shiver at the way my brother came up with that light
+tackle. But he hooked the sailfish, and nothing broke. Then came a big
+white splash on the surface, but no sign of the fish. R. C.'s line
+sagged down.
+
+"Look out! Wind in! He's coming at us!" I called.
+
+"He's off!" replied my brother.
+
+That might well have been, but, as I expected, he was not. He broke
+water on a slack line and showed us all his dripping, colorful body
+nearer than a hundred feet. R. C. thereupon performed with incredible
+speed at the reel and quickly had a tight line. Mr. Sailfish did not
+like that. He slid out, wrathfully wagging his bill, and left a seamy,
+foamy track behind him, finally to end that play with a splendid long
+leap. He was headed away from us now, with two hundred yards of line
+out, going hard and fast, and we had to follow him. We had a fine
+straightaway run to recover the line. This was a thrilling chase, and
+one, I think, we never would have had if R. C. had been using heavy
+tackle. The sailfish led us out half a mile before he sounded.
+
+Then in fifteen minutes more R. C. had him up where we could see his
+purple and bronze colors and the strange, triangular form of him, which
+peculiar shape came mostly from the waving sail. I thought I saw other
+shapes and colors with him, and bent over the gunwale to see better.
+
+"He's got company. Two sharks!--You want to do some quick work now or
+good-by sailfish!"
+
+ [Illustration: Nassau Photo
+ SOLITUDE ON THE SEA]
+
+ [Illustration: Nassau Photo
+ SUNSET BY THE SEA]
+
+A small gray shark and a huge yellow shark were coming up with our
+quarry. R. C. said things, and pulled hard on the light tackle. I got
+hold of the leader and drew the sailfish close to the boat. He began to
+thresh, and the big shark came with a rush. Instinctively I let go of
+the leader, which action was a blunder. The sailfish saw the shark and,
+waking up, he fought a good deal harder than before the sharks appeared
+upon the scene. He took off line, and got so far away that I gave up any
+hope that the sharks might not get him. There was a heavy commotion out
+in the water. The shark had made a rush. So had the sailfish, and he
+came right back to the boat. R. C. reeled in swiftly.
+
+"Hold him hard now!" I admonished, and I leaped up on the stern. The
+sailfish sheered round on the surface, with tail and bill out, while the
+shark swam about five feet under him. He was a shovel-nosed, big-finned
+yellow shark, weighing about five hundred pounds. He saw me. I waved my
+hat at him, but he did not mind that. He swam up toward the surface and
+his prey. R. C. was now handling the light tackle pretty roughly. It is
+really remarkable what can be done with nine-thread. In another moment
+we would have lost the sailfish. The boatman brought my rifle and a shot
+scared the shark away. Then we got the sailfish into the boat. He was a
+beautiful specimen for mounting, weighing forty-five pounds, the first
+my brother had taken.
+
+After that we had several strikes, but not one of them was what I could
+call a hungry, smashing strike. These sailfish are finicky biters. I had
+one rap at my bait with his bill until he knocked the bait off.
+
+I think the feature of the day was the sight of two flying-fish that
+just missed boarding the boat. They came out to the left of us and
+sailed ahead together. Then they must have been turned by the wind, for
+they made a beautiful, graceful curve until they came around so that I
+was sure they would fly into the boat. Their motion was indescribably
+airy and feathery, buoyant and swift, with not the slightest quiver of
+fins or wings as they passed within five feet of me. I could see through
+the crystal wings. Their bodies were white and silvery, and they had
+staring black eyes. They were not so large as the California
+flying-fish, nor did they have any blue color. They resembled the
+California species, however, in that same strange, hunted look which
+always struck me. To see these flying-fish this way was provocative of
+thought. They had been pursued by some hungry devil of a fish, and with
+a birdlike swiftness with which nature had marvelously endowed them they
+had escaped the enemy. Here I had at once the wonder and beauty and
+terror of the sea. These fish were not leaping with joy. I have not
+often seen fish in the salt water perform antics for anything except
+flight or pursuit. Sometimes kingfish appear to be playing when they
+leap so wonderfully at sunset hour, but as a rule salt-water fish do not
+seem to be playful.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+At Long Key the Gulf Stream is offshore five miles. The water shoals
+gradually anywhere from two feet near the beach to twenty feet five
+miles out on the reef. When there has been no wind for several days,
+which is a rare thing for Long Key, the water becomes crystal clear and
+the fish and marine creatures are an endless source of interest to the
+fisherman. Of course a large boat, in going out on the reef, must use
+the channel between the keys, but a small boat or canoe can go anywhere.
+It is remarkable how the great game fish come in from the Stream across
+the reef into shoal water. Barracuda come right up to the shore, and
+likewise the big sharks. The bottom is a clean, white, finely ribbed
+coral sand, with patches of brown seaweed here and there and golden
+spots, and in the shallower water different kinds of sponges. Out on the
+reef the water is a light green. The Gulf Stream runs along the outer
+edge of the reef, and here between Tennessee Buoy and Alligator Light,
+eighteen miles, is a feeding-ground for sailfish, kingfish, amberjack,
+barracuda, and other fishes. The ballyhoo is the main feed of these
+fishes, and it is indeed a queer little fish. He was made by nature,
+like the sardine and mullet and flying-fish, to serve as food for the
+larger fishes. The ballyhoo is about a foot long, slim and flat, shiny
+and white on the sides and dark green on the back, with a sharp-pointed,
+bright-yellow tail, the lower lobe of which is developed to twice the
+length of the upper. He has a very strange feature in the fact that his
+lower jaw resembles the bill of a snipe, being several inches long,
+sharp and pointed and hard; but he has no upper lip or beak at all. This
+half-bill must be used in relation to his food, but I do not have any
+idea how this is done.
+
+One day I found the Gulf Stream a mile off Tennessee Buoy, whereas on
+other days it would be close in. On this particular day the water was a
+dark, clear, indigo blue and appreciably warmer than the surrounding
+sea. This Stream has a current of several miles an hour, flowing up the
+coast. Everywhere we saw the Portuguese men-of-war shining on the waves.
+There was a slight, cool breeze blowing, rippling the water just enough
+to make fishing favorable. I saw a big loggerhead turtle, weighing about
+three hundred pounds, coming around on the surface among these
+Portuguese men-of-war, and as we ran up I saw that he was feeding on
+these queer balloon-like little creatures. Sometimes he would come up
+under one and it would stick on his back, and he would turn laboriously
+around from under it, and submerge his back so he had it floating again.
+Then he would open his cavernous mouth and take it in. Considering the
+stinging poison these Portuguese men-of-war secrete about them, the
+turtle must have had a very tabasco-sauce meal. Right away I began to
+see evidence of fish on the surface, which is always a good sign. We
+went past a school of bonita breaking the water up into little swirls.
+Then I saw a smashing break of a sailfish coming out sideways, sending
+the water in white sheets. We slowed down the boat and got our baits
+overboard at once. I was using a ballyhoo bait hooked by a small hook
+through the lips, with a second and larger hook buried in the body. R.
+C. was using a strip of mullet, which for obvious reasons seems to be
+the preferred bait from Palm Beach to Long Key. And the obvious reason
+is that nobody seems to take the trouble to get what might be proper
+bait for sailfish. Mullet is an easy bait to get and commands just as
+high a price as anything else, which, as a matter of fact, is highway
+robbery. With a bait like a ballyhoo or a shiner I could get ten bites
+to one with mullet.
+
+We trolled along at slow speed. The air was cool, the sun pleasant, the
+sea beautiful, and this was the time to sit back and enjoy a sense of
+freedom and great space of the ocean, and watch for leaping fish or
+whatever might attract the eye.
+
+Here and there we passed a strange jellyfish, the like of which I had
+never before seen. It was about as large as a good-sized cantaloup, and
+pale, clear yellow all over one end and down through the middle, and
+then commenced a dark red fringe which had a waving motion. Inside this
+fringe was a scalloped circular appendage that had a sucking motion,
+which must have propelled it through the water, and it made quite fair
+progress. Around every one of these strange jellyfish was a little
+school of tiny minnows, as clear-colored as crystals. These all swam on
+in the same direction as the drift of the Gulf Stream.
+
+When we are fishing for sailfish everything that strikes we take to be a
+sailfish until we find out it is something else. They are inconsistent
+and queer fish. Sometimes they will rush a bait, at other times they
+will tug at it and then chew at it, and then they will tap it with their
+bills. I think I have demonstrated that they are about the hardest fish
+to hook that swims, and also on light tackle they are one of the gamest
+and most thrilling. However, not one in a hundred fishermen who come to
+Long Key will go after them with light tackle. And likewise not one out
+of twenty-five sailfish brought in there is caught by a fisherman who
+deliberately went out after sailfish. Mostly they are caught by accident
+while drags are set for kingfish or barracuda. At Palm Beach I believe
+they fish for them quite persistently, with a great deal of success. But
+it is more a method of still fishing which has no charms for me.
+
+Presently my boatman yelled, "Sailfish!" We looked off to port and saw a
+big sailfish break water nine times. He was perhaps five hundred yards
+distant. My boatman put on speed, and, as my boat is fast, it did not
+take us long to get somewhere near where this big fish broke. We did our
+best to get to the exact spot where he came up, then slowed down and
+trolled over the place. In this instance I felt a light tap on my bait
+and I jumped up quickly, both to look and let him take line. But I did
+not see him or feel him any more. We went on. I saw a flash of bright
+silver back of my brother's bait. At the instant he hooked a kingfish.
+And then I felt one cut my bait off. Kingfish are savage strikers and
+they almost invariably hook themselves when the drag is set. But as I
+fish for sailfish with a free-running reel, of course I am exasperated
+when a kingfish takes hold. My brother pulled in this kingfish, which
+was small, and we rebaited our hooks and went on again. I saw more
+turtles, and one we almost ran over, he was so lazy in getting down.
+These big, cumbersome sea animals, once they get headed down and
+started, can disappear with remarkable rapidity. I rather enjoy
+watching them, but my boatman, who is a native of these parts and
+therefore a turtle-hunter by instinct, always wore a rather disappointed
+look when we saw one. This was because I would not allow him to harpoon
+it.
+
+ [Illustration: TWIN TIGERS OF THE SEA--THE SAVAGE BARRACUDA]
+
+ [Illustration: HAPPY PASTIME OF BONEFISHING]
+
+The absence of gulls along this stretch of reef is a feature that struck
+me. So that once in a while when I did see a lonely white gull I watched
+him with pleasure. And once I saw a cero mackerel jump way in along the
+reef, and even at a mile's distance I could see the wonderful curve he
+made.
+
+The wind freshened, and all at once it seemed leaping sailfish were all
+around us. Then as we turned the boat this way and that we had thrills
+of anticipation. Suddenly R. C. had a strike. The fish took the bait
+hungrily and sheered off like an arrow and took line rapidly. When R. C.
+hooked him he came up with a big splash and shook himself to free the
+hook. He jumped here and there and then went down deep. And then he took
+a good deal of line off the reel. I was surprised to see a sailfish
+stick his bill out of the water very much closer to the boat than where
+R. C.'s fish should have been. I had no idea then that this was a fish
+other than the one R. C. had hooked. But when he cut the line either
+with his bill or his tail, and R. C. wound it in, we very soon
+discovered that it was not the fish that he had hooked. This is one of
+the handicaps of light tackle.
+
+We went on fishing. Sailfish would jump around us for a while and then
+they would stop. We would not see one for several minutes. It is always
+very exciting to be among them this way. Presently I had one take hold
+to run off slowly and steadily, and I let him go for fifty feet, and
+when I struck I tore the hook away from him. Quickly I let slack line
+run back to him ten or fifteen feet at a time, until I felt him take it
+once more. He took it rather suspiciously, I felt, and I honestly
+believe that I could tell that he was mouthing or chewing the bait,
+which made me careful to let the line run off easily to him. Suddenly he
+rushed off, making the reel smoke. I let him run one hundred and fifty
+feet and then stood up, throwing on the drag, and when the line
+straightened tight I tried to jerk at him as hard as the tackle would
+stand. As a matter of fact, however, he was going so fast and hard that
+he hooked himself. It is indeed seldom that I miss one when he runs like
+this. This fellow came up two hundred yards from the boat and slid along
+the water with half of his body raised, much like one of those
+coasting-boards I have seen bathers use, towed behind a motor-launch. He
+went down and came up in a magnificent sheer leap, with his broad sail
+shining in the sun. Very angry he was, and he reminded me of a Marlin
+swordfish. Next he went down, and came up again bent in a curve, with
+the big sail stretched again. He skittered over the water, going down
+and coming up, until he had leaped seven times. This was a big, heavy
+fish, and on the light six-ounce tip and nine-thread line I had my work
+cut out for me. We had to run the boat toward him so I could get back my
+line. Here was the advantage of having a fast boat with a big rudder.
+Otherwise I would have lost my fish. After some steady deep plugging he
+came up again and set my heart aflutter by a long surface play in which
+he took off one hundred yards of line and then turned, leaping straight
+for the boat. Fortunately the line was slack and I could throw off the
+drag and let him run. Slack line never bothers me when I really get one
+of these fish well hooked. If he is not well hooked he is going to get
+away, anyhow. After that he went down into deep water and I had one long
+hour of hard work in bringing him to the boat. Six hours later he
+weighed fifty-eight and a half pounds, and as he had lost a good deal of
+blood and dried out considerably, he would have gone over sixty pounds,
+which, so far, is the largest sailfish I know of caught on light tackle.
+
+The sailfish were still leaping around us and we started off again. The
+captain called our attention to a tail and a sail a few yards apart not
+far from the boat. We circled around them to drive them down. I saw a
+big wave back of R. C.'s bait and I yelled, "Look out!" I felt something
+hit my bait and then hit it again. I knew it was a sailfish rapping at
+it. I let the line slip off the reel. Just then R. C. had a vicious
+strike and when he hooked the fish the line snapped. He claimed that he
+had jerked too hard. This is the difficulty with light tackle--to strike
+hard, yet not break anything. I was standing up and leaning forward,
+letting my line slip off the reel, trying to coax that sailfish to come
+back. Something took hold and almost jerked the rod out of my hands.
+That was a magnificent strike, and of course I thought it was one of the
+sailfish. But when I hooked him I had my doubts. The weight was heavy
+and ponderous and tugging. He went down and down and down. The boatman
+said amberjack. I was afraid so, but I still had my hopes. For a while I
+could not budge him, and at last, when I had given up hope that it was a
+sailfish, I worked a good deal harder than I would have otherwise. It
+took me twenty-five minutes to subdue a forty-pound amberjack. Here was
+proof of what could be done with light tackle.
+
+About ten-thirty of this most delightful and favorable day we ran into a
+school of barracuda. R. C. hooked a small one, which was instantly set
+upon by its voracious comrades and torn to pieces. Then I had a
+tremendous strike, hard, swift, long--everything to make a tingle of
+nerve and blood. The instant I struck, up out of a flying splash rose a
+long, sharp, silver-flashing tiger of the sea, and if he leaped an inch
+he leaped forty feet. On that light tackle he was a revelation. Five
+times more he leaped, straight up, very high, gills agape, jaws wide,
+body curved--a sight for any angler. He made long runs and short runs
+and all kinds of runs, and for half an hour he defied any strain I dared
+put on him. Eventually I captured him, and I considered him superior to
+a tarpon of equal or even more weight.
+
+Barracuda are a despised fish, apparently because of their voracious and
+murderous nature. But I incline to the belief that it is because the
+invariable use of heavy tackle has blinded the fishermen to the
+wonderful leaping and fighting qualities of this long-nosed,
+long-toothed sea-tiger. The few of us who have hooked barracuda on light
+tackle know him as a marvelous performer. Van Campen Heilner wrote
+about a barracuda he caught on a bass rod, and he is not likely to
+forget it, nor will the reader of his story forget it.
+
+R. C. had another strike, hooked his fish, and brought it in readily. It
+was a bonita of about five pounds, the first one my brother had ever
+caught. We were admiring his beautiful, subdued colors as he swam near
+the boat, when up out of the blue depths shot a long gray form as swift
+as lightning. It was a big barracuda. In his rush he cut that bonita in
+two. The captain grasped the line and yelled for us to get the gaffs. R.
+C. dropped the rod and got the small gaff, and as I went for the big one
+I heard them both yell. Then I bent over to see half a dozen big gray
+streaks rush for what was left of that poor little bonita. The big
+barracuda with incredible speed and unbelievable ferocity rushed right
+to the side of the boat at the bonita. He got hold of it and R. C. in
+striking at him to gaff him hit him over the head several times. Then
+the gaff hook caught him and R. C. began to lift. The barracuda looked
+to me to be fully seven feet long and half as big around as a telegraph
+pole. He made a tremendous splash in the water. R. C. was deluged. He
+and the boatman yelled in their excitement. But R. C. was unable to hold
+the big fish on this small gaff, and I got there too late. The barracuda
+broke loose. Then, equally incredibly, he turned with still greater
+ferocity and rushed the bonita again, but before he could get to it
+another and smaller barracuda had hold of it. At this instant I leaned
+over with a club. With one powerful sweep I hit one of the barracuda on
+the head. When I reached over again the largest one was contending with
+a smaller one for the remains of the bonita. I made a vicious pass at
+the big one, missing him. Quick as I was, before I could get back, the
+big fellow had taken the head of the bonita and rushed off with it,
+tearing the line out of the captain's hands. Then we looked at one
+another. It had all happened in a minute. We were all wringing wet and
+panting from excitement and exertion. This is a gruesome tale of the sea
+and I put it here only to illustrate the incomparable savageness of
+these tigers of the Gulf Stream.
+
+The captain put the fish away and cleaned up the boat and we resumed
+fishing. I ate lunch holding the rod in one hand, loath to waste any
+time on this wonderful day. Sailfish were still jumping here and there
+and far away. The next thing to happen was that R. C. hooked a small
+kingfish, and at the same instant a big one came clear out in an
+unsuccessful effort to get my bait. This happened to be near the reef,
+and as we were going out I hooked a big grouper that tried out my
+small tackle for all it was worth. But I managed to keep him from
+getting on the bottom, and at length brought him in. The little
+six-ounce tip now looked like a buggy-whip that was old and worn
+out. After that nothing happened for quite a little spell. We had
+opportunity to get rested. Presently R. C. had a sailfish tap his bait
+and tap it again and tug at it and then take hold and start away. R.
+C. hooked him and did it carefully, trying not to put too much strain
+on the line. Here is where great skill is required. But the line
+broke. After that he took one of my other tackles. Something went
+wrong with the engine and the captain had to shut down and we drifted.
+I had a long line out and it gradually sank. Something took hold and I
+hooked it and found myself fast to a deep-sea, hard-fighting fish of
+some kind. I got him up eventually, and was surprised to see a great,
+broad, red-colored fish, which turned out to be a mutton-fish, much
+prized for food. I had now gotten six varieties of fish in the Gulf
+Stream and we were wondering what next. I was hoping it would be a
+dolphin or a waahoo. It happened, however, to be a beautiful cero
+mackerel, one of the shapeliest and most attractive fish in these
+waters. He is built something like the brook-trout, except for a much
+sharper head and wider fins and tail. But he is speckled very much
+after the manner of the trout. We trolled on, and all of a sudden
+raised a school of sailfish. They came up with a splashing rush very
+thrilling to see. One hit R. C.'s bait hard, and then another, by way
+of contrast, began to tug and chew at mine. I let the line out slowly.
+And as I did so I saw another one follow R. C.'s mutilated bait which
+he was bringing toward the boat. He was a big purple-and-bronze fellow
+and he would have taken a whole bait if it could have been gotten to
+him. But he sheered away, frightened by the boat. I failed to hook my
+fish. It was getting along pretty well into the afternoon by this time
+and the later it got the better the small fish and kingfish seemed to
+bite. I caught one barracuda and six kingfish, while R. C. was
+performing a somewhat similar feat. Then he got a smashing strike
+from a sailfish that went off on a hard, fast rush, so that he hooked
+it perfectly. He jumped nine times, several of which leaps I
+photographed. He was a good-sized fish and active and strong. R. C.
+had him up to the boat in thirty minutes, which was fine work for the
+light tackle. I made sure that the fish was as good as caught and I
+did not look to see where he was hooked. My boatman is not skilled in
+the handling of the fish when they are brought in. Few boatmen are. He
+took hold of the leader, and as he began to lift I saw that the hook
+was fast in the bill of the sailfish fully six inches from his mouth.
+At that instant the sailfish began to thresh. I yelled to the boatman
+to let go, but either I was not quick enough or he did not obey, for
+the hook snapped free and the sailfish slowly swam away, his great
+purple-and-blue spotted sail waving in the water, and his bronze sides
+shining. And we were both glad that he had gotten away, because we had
+had the fun out of him and had taken pictures of him jumping, and he
+was now alive and might make another fisherman sport some day.
+
+
+
+
+VII
+
+BONEFISH
+
+
+In my experience as a fisherman the greatest pleasure has been the
+certainty of something new to learn, to feel, to anticipate, to thrill
+over. An old proverb tells us that if you wish to bring back the wealth
+of the Indias you must go out with its equivalent. Surely the longer a
+man fishes the wealthier he becomes in experience, in reminiscence, in
+love of nature, if he goes out with the harvest of a quiet eye, free
+from the plague of himself.
+
+As a boy, fishing was a passion with me, but no more for the conquest of
+golden sunfish and speckled chubs and horny catfish than for the
+haunting sound of the waterfall and the color and loneliness of the
+cliffs. As a man, and a writer who is forever learning, fishing is still
+a passion, stronger with all the years, but tempered by an understanding
+of the nature of primitive man, hidden in all of us, and by a keen
+reluctance to deal pain to any creature. The sea and the river and the
+mountain have almost taught me not to kill except for the urgent needs
+of life; and the time will come when I shall have grown up to that. When
+I read a naturalist or a biologist I am always ashamed of what I have
+called a sport. Yet one of the truths of evolution is that not to
+practise strife, not to use violence, not to fish or hunt--that is to
+say, not to fight--is to retrograde as a natural man. Spiritual and
+intellectual growth is attained at the expense of the physical.
+
+Always, then, when I am fishing I feel that the fish are incidental, and
+that the reward of effort and endurance, the incalculable and intangible
+knowledge emanate from the swelling and infinite sea or from the shaded
+and murmuring stream. Thus I assuage my conscience and justify the fun,
+the joy, the excitement, and the violence.
+
+Five years ago I had never heard of a bonefish. The first man who ever
+spoke to me about this species said to me, very quietly with serious
+intentness: "Have you had any experience with bonefish?" I said no, and
+asked him what kind that was. His reply was enigmatical. "Well, don't go
+after bonefish unless you can give up all other fishing." I remember I
+laughed. But I never forgot that remark, and now it comes back to me
+clear in its significance. That fisherman read me as well as I
+misunderstood him.
+
+Later that season I listened to talk of inexperienced bonefishermen
+telling what they had done and heard. To me it was absurd. So much
+fishing talk seems ridiculous, anyway. And the expert fishermen,
+wherever they were, received the expressive titles: "Bonefish Bugs and
+Bonefish Nuts!" Again I heard arguments about tackle rigged for these
+mysterious fish and these arguments fixed my vague impression. By and by
+some bonefishermen came to Long Key, and the first sight of a bonefish
+made me curious. I think it weighed five pounds--a fair-sized specimen.
+Even to my prejudiced eye that fish showed class. So I began to question
+the bonefishermen.
+
+At once I found this type of angler to be remarkably reticent as to
+experience and method. Moreover, the tackle used was amazing to me.
+Stiff rods and heavy lines for little fish! I gathered another
+impression, and it was that bonefish were related to dynamite and chain
+lightning. Everybody who would listen to my questions had different
+things to say. No two men agreed on tackle or bait or ground or
+anything. I enlisted the interest of my brother R. C., and we decided,
+just to satisfy curiosity, to go out and catch some bonefish. The
+complacent, smug conceit of fishermen! I can see now how funny ours was.
+Fortunately it is now past tense. If I am ever conceited again I hope no
+one will read my stories.
+
+My brother and I could not bring ourselves to try for bonefish with
+heavy tackle. It was preposterous. Three--four--five-pound fish! We had
+seen no larger. Bass tackle was certainly heavy enough for us. So in the
+innocence of our hearts and the assurance of our vanity we sallied forth
+to catch bonefish.
+
+That was four years ago. Did we have good luck? No! Luck has nothing to
+do with bonefishing. What happened? For one solid month each winter of
+those four years we had devoted ourselves to bonefishing with light
+tackle. We stuck to our colors. The space of this whole volume would not
+be half enough to tell our experience--the amaze, the difficulty, the
+perseverance, the defeat, the wonder, and at last the achievement. The
+season of 1918 we hooked about fifty bonefish on three-six tackles--that
+is, three-ounce tips and six-thread lines--and we landed fourteen of
+them. I caught nine and R. C. caught five. R. C.'s eight-pound fish
+justified our contention and crowned our efforts.
+
+To date, in all my experience, I consider this bonefish achievement the
+most thrilling, fascinating, difficult, and instructive. That is a broad
+statement and I hope I can prove it. I am prepared to state that I feel
+almost certain, if I spent another month bonefishing, I would become
+obsessed and perhaps lose my enthusiasm for other kinds of fish.
+
+Why?
+
+There is a multiplicity of reasons. My reasons range from the
+exceedingly graceful beauty of a bonefish to the fact that he is the
+best food fish I ever ate. That is a wide range. He is the wisest,
+shyest, wariest, strangest fish I ever studied; and I am not excepting
+the great _Xiphias gladius_--the broadbill swordfish. As for the speed
+of a bonefish, I claim no salmon, no barracuda, no other fish celebrated
+for swiftness of motion, is in his class. A bonefish is so incredibly
+fast that it was a long time before I could believe the evidence of my
+own eyes. You see him; he is there perfectly still in the clear, shallow
+water, a creature of fish shape, pale green and silver, but
+crystal-like, a phantom shape, staring at you with strange black eyes;
+then he is gone. Vanished! Absolutely without your seeing a movement,
+even a faint streak! By peering keenly you may discern a little swirl in
+the water. As for the strength of a bonefish, I actually hesitate to
+give my impressions. No one will ever believe how powerful a bonefish
+is until he has tried to stop the rush and heard the line snap. As for
+his cunning, it is utterly baffling. As for his biting, it is almost
+imperceptible. As for his tactics, they are beyond conjecture.
+
+ [Illustration: THE GAMEST FISH THAT SWIMS]
+
+ [Illustration: A WAAHOO]
+
+I want to append here a few passages from my note-books, in the hope
+that a bare, bald statement of fact will help my argument.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+First experience on a bonefish shoal. This wide area of coral mud was
+dry at low tide. When we arrived the tide was rising. Water scarcely a
+foot deep, very clear. Bottom white, with patches of brown grass. We saw
+bonefish everywhere and expected great sport. But no matter where we
+stopped we could not get any bites. Schools of bonefish swam up to the
+boat, only to dart away. Everywhere we saw thin white tails sticking
+out, as they swam along, feeding with noses in the mud. When we drew in
+our baits we invariably found them half gone, and it was our assumption
+that the blue crabs did this.
+
+At sunset the wind quieted. It grew very still and beautiful. The water
+was rosy. Here and there we saw swirls and tails standing out, and we
+heard heavy thumps of plunging fish. But we could not get any bites.
+
+When we returned to camp we were told that the half of our soldier-crab
+baits had been sucked off by bonefish. Did not believe that.
+
+Tide bothered us again this morning. It seems exceedingly difficult to
+tell one night before what the tide is going to do the next morning. At
+ten o'clock we walked to the same place we were yesterday. It was a
+bright, warm day, with just enough breeze to ruffle the water and make
+fishing pleasant, and we certainly expected to have good luck. But we
+fished for about three hours without any sign of a fish. This was
+discouraging and we could not account for it.
+
+So we moved. About half a mile down the beach I thought I caught a
+glimpse of a bonefish. It was a likely-looking contrast to the white
+marl all around. Here I made a long cast and sat down to wait. My
+brother lagged behind. Presently I spied two bonefish nosing along not
+ten feet from the shore. They saw me, so I made no attempt to drag the
+bait near them, but I called to my brother and told him to try to get a
+bait ahead of them. This was a little after flood-tide. It struck me
+then that these singular fish feed up the beach with one tide and down
+with another.
+
+Just when my brother reached me I got a nibble. I called to him and then
+stood up, ready to strike. I caught a glimpse of the fish. He looked big
+and dark. He had his nose down, fooling with my bait. When I struck him
+he felt heavy. I put on the click of the reel, and when the bonefish
+started off he pulled the rod down hard, taking the line fast. He made
+one swirl on the surface and then started up-shore. He seemed
+exceedingly swift. I ran along the beach until presently the line
+slackened and I felt that the hook had torn out. This was
+disappointment. I could not figure that I had done anything wrong, but I
+decided in the future to use a smaller and sharper hook. We went on down
+the beach, seeing several bonefish on the way, and finally we ran into
+a big school of them. They were right alongshore, but when they saw us
+we could not induce them to bite.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Every day we learn something. It is necessary to keep out of sight of
+these fish. After they bite, everything depends upon the skilful hooking
+of the fish. Probably it will require a good deal of skill to land them
+after you have hooked them, but we have had little experience at that so
+far. When these fish are along the shore they certainly are feeding, and
+presumably they are feeding on crabs of some sort. Bonefish appear to be
+game worthy of any fisherman's best efforts.
+
+It was a still, hot day, without any clouds. We went up the beach to a
+point opposite an old construction camp. To-day when we expected the
+tide to be doing one thing it was doing another. Ebb and flow and
+flood-tide have become as difficult as Sanskrit synonyms for me. My
+brother took an easy and comfortable chair and sat up the beach, and I,
+like an ambitious fisherman, laboriously and adventurously waded out one
+hundred and fifty feet to an old platform that had been erected there. I
+climbed upon this, and found it a very precarious place to sit. Come to
+think about it, there is something very remarkable about the places a
+fisherman will pick out to sit down on. This place was a two-by-four
+plank full of nails, and I cheerfully availed myself of it and, casting
+my bait out as far as I could, I calmly sat down to wait for a bonefish.
+It has become a settled conviction in my mind that you have to wait for
+bonefish. But all at once I got a hard bite. It quite excited me. I
+jerked and pulled the bait away from the fish and he followed it and
+took it again. I saw this fish and several others in the white patch of
+ground where there were not any weeds. But in my excitement I did not
+have out a long enough line, and when I jerked the fish turned over and
+got away. This was all right, but the next two hours sitting in the sun
+on that seat with a nail sticking into me were not altogether
+pleasurable. When I thought I had endured it as long as I could I saw a
+flock of seven bonefish swimming past me, and one of them was a whopper.
+The sight revived me. I hardly breathed while that bunch of fish swam
+right for my bait, and for all I could see they did not know it was
+there. I waited another long time. The sun was hot--there was no
+breeze--the heat was reflected from the water. I could have stood all
+this well enough, but I could not stand the nails. So I climbed down off
+my perch, having forgotten that all this time the tide had been rising.
+And as I could not climb back I had to get wet, to the infinite
+amusement of my brother. After that I fished from the shore.
+
+Presently my brother shouted and I looked up to see him pulling on a
+fish. There was a big splash in the water and then I saw his line
+running out. The fish was heading straight for the framework on which I
+had been seated and I knew if he ever did get there he would break the
+line. All of a sudden I saw the fish he had hooked. And he reached the
+framework all right!
+
+I had one more strike this day, but did not hook the fish. It seems this
+bonefishing takes infinite patience. For all we can tell, these fish
+come swimming along with the rising tide close in to shore and they are
+exceedingly shy and wary. My brother now has caught two small bonefish
+and each of them gave a good strong bite, at once starting off with the
+bait. We had been under the impression that it was almost impossible to
+feel the bonefish bite. It will take work to learn this game.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Yesterday we went up on the north side of the island to the place near
+the mangroves where we had seen some bonefish. Arriving there, we found
+the tide almost flood, with the water perfectly smooth and very clear
+and about a foot deep up at the mangrove roots. Here and there at a
+little distance we could see splashes. We separated, and I took the
+outside, while R. C. took the inside close to the mangroves. We waded
+along. Before I had time to make a cast I saw a three-pound bonefish
+come sneaking along, and when he saw me he darted away like an arrow. I
+made a long cast and composed myself to wait. Presently a yell from R.
+C. electrified me with the hope that he had hooked a fish. But it turned
+out that he had only seen one. He moved forward very cautiously in the
+water and presently made a cast. He then said that a big bonefish was
+right near his hook, and during the next few minutes this fish circled
+his bait twice, crossing his line. Then he counted out loud: one, two,
+three, four, five bonefish right in front of him, one of which was a
+whopper. I stood up myself and saw one over to my right, of about five
+pounds, sneaking along with his nose to the bottom. When I made a cast
+over in his direction he disappeared as suddenly as if he had dissolved
+in the water. Looking out to my left, I saw half a dozen bonefish
+swimming toward me, and they came quite close. When I moved they
+vanished. Then I made a cast over in this direction. The bonefish came
+back and swam all around my bait, apparently not noticing it. They were
+on the feed, and the reason they did not take our bait must have been
+that they saw us. We fished there for an hour without having a sign of a
+bite, and then we gave it up.
+
+To-day about flood-tide I had a little strike. I jerked hard, but failed
+to see the fish, and then when I reeled in I found he still had hold of
+it. Then I struck him, and in one little jerk he broke the leader.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+I just had a talk with a fellow who claims to know a good deal about
+bonefishing. He said he had caught a good many ranging up to eight
+pounds. His claim was that soldier crabs were the best bait. He said he
+had fished with professional boatmen who knew the game thoroughly. They
+would pole the skiff alongshore and keep a sharp lookout for what he
+called bonefish mud. And I assume that he meant muddy places in the
+water that had been stirred up by bonefish. Of course, any place where
+these little swirls could be seen was very likely to be a bonefish bank.
+He claimed that it was necessary to hold the line near the reel between
+the forefingers, and to feel for the very slightest vibration. Bonefish
+have a sucker-like mouth. They draw the bait in, and smash it.
+Sometimes, of course, they move away, drawing out the line, but that
+kind of a bite is exceptional. It is imperative to strike the fish when
+this vibration is felt. Not one in five bonefish is hooked.
+
+We have had two northers and the water grew so cold that it drove the
+fish out. The last two or three days have been warm and to-day it was
+hot. However, I did not expect the bonefish in yet, and when we went in
+bathing at flood-tide I was very glad to see two fish. I hurried out and
+got my rod and began to try. Presently I had a little strike. I waited
+and it was repeated; then I jerked and felt the fish. He made a wave and
+that was the last I knew of him.
+
+Reeling in, I looked at my bait, to find that it had been pretty badly
+chewed, but I fastened it on again and made another cast. I set down the
+rod. Then I went back after the bucket for the rest of the bait. Upon my
+return I saw the line jerking and I ran to the rod. I saw a little
+splash, and a big white tail of a bonefish stick out of the water. I put
+my thumb on the reel and jerked hard. Instantly I felt the fish, heavy
+and powerful. He made a surge and then ran straight out. The line burned
+my thumb so I could not hold it. I put on the click and the fish made a
+swifter, harder run for at least a hundred yards, and he tore the hook
+out.
+
+This makes a number of fish that have gotten away from me in this
+manner. It is exasperating and difficult to explain. I have to use a
+pretty heavy sinker in order to cast the bait out. I have arranged this
+sinker, which has a hole through it, so that the line will run freely.
+This seems to work all right on the bite, but I am afraid it does not
+work after the fish is hooked. That sinker drags on the bottom. This is
+the best rigging that I can plan at the present stage of the game. I
+have an idea now that a bonefish should be hooked hard and then very
+carefully handled.
+
+I fished off the beach awhile in front of the cabin. We used both kinds
+of crabs, soldier and hermit. I fished two hours and a half, from the
+late rising tide to the first of the ebb, without a sign or sight of a
+fish. R. C. finally got tired and set his rod and went in bathing. Then
+it happened. I heard his reel singing and saw his rod nodding; then I
+made a dash for it. The fish was running straight out, heavy and fast,
+and he broke the line.
+
+This may have been caused by the heavy sinker catching in the weeds. We
+must do more planning to get a suitable rig for these bonefish.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Day before yesterday R. C. and I went up to the Long Key point, and
+rowed in on the mangrove shoal where once before I saw so many bonefish.
+The tide was about one-quarter in, and there was a foot of water all
+over the flats. We anchored at the outer edge and began to fish. We had
+made elaborate preparations in the way of tackle, bait, canoe, etc., and
+it really would have been remarkable if we had had any luck. After a
+little while I distinctly felt something at my hook, and upon jerking I
+had one splendid surge out of a good, heavy bonefish. That was all that
+happened in that place.
+
+It was near flood-tide when we went back. I stood up and kept a keen
+watch for little muddy places in the water, also bonefish. At last I saw
+several fish, and there we anchored. I fished on one side of the boat,
+and R. C. on the other. On two different occasions, feeling a nibble on
+his line, he jerked, all to no avail. The third time he yelled as he
+struck, and I turned in time to see the white thresh of a bonefish. He
+made a quick dash off to the side and then came in close to the boat,
+swimming around with short runs two or three times, and then, apparently
+tired, he came close. I made ready to lift him into the boat, when, lo
+and behold! he made a wonderful run of fully three hundred feet before
+R. C. could stop him. Finally he was led to the boat, and turned out to
+be a fish of three and a half pounds. It simply made R. C. and me gasp
+to speak of what a really large bonefish might be able to do. There is
+something irresistible about the pursuit of these fish, and perhaps this
+is it. We changed places, and as a last try anchored in deeper water,
+fishing as before. This time I had a distinct tug at my line and I
+hooked a fish. He wiggled and jerked and threshed around so that I told
+R. C. that it was not a bonefish, but R. C. contended it was. Anyway, he
+came toward the boat rather easily until we saw him and he saw us, and
+then he made a dash similar to that of R. C.'s fish and he tore out the
+hook. This was the extent of our adventure that day, and we were very
+much pleased.
+
+Next morning we started out with a high northeast trade-wind blowing.
+Nothing could dampen our ardor.
+
+It was blowing so hard up at No. 2 viaduct that we decided to stay
+inside. There is a big flat there cut up by channels, and it is said to
+be a fine ground for bonefish. The tide was right and the water was
+clear, but even in the lee of the bank the wind blew pretty hard. We
+anchored in about three feet of water and began to fish.
+
+After a while we moved. The water was about a foot deep, and the bottom
+clean white marl, with little patches of vegetation. Crabs and
+crab-holes were numerous. I saw a small shark and a couple of rays. When
+we got to the middle of a big flat I saw the big, white, glistening
+tails of bonefish sticking out of the water. We dropped anchor and, much
+excited, were about to make casts, when R. C. lost his hat. He swore. We
+had to pull up anchor and go get the hat. Unfortunately this scared the
+fish. Also it presaged a rather hard-luck afternoon. In fishing, as in
+many other things, if the beginning is tragedy all will be tragedy,
+growing worse all the time. We moved around up above where I had seen
+these bonefish, and there we dropped anchor. No sooner had we gotten our
+baits overboard than we began to see bonefish tails off at quite some
+distance. The thing to do, of course, was to sit right there and be
+patient, but this was almost impossible for us. We moved again and
+again, but we did not get any nearer to the fish. Finally I determined
+that we would stick in one place. This we did, and the bonefish began to
+come around. When they would swim close to the boat and see us they
+would give a tremendous surge and disappear, as if by magic. But they
+always left a muddy place in the water. The speed of these fish is
+beyond belief. I could not cast where I wanted to; I tried again and
+again. When I did get my bait off at a reasonable distance, I could feel
+crabs nibbling at it. These pests robbed us of many a good bait. One of
+them cut my line right in two. They seemed to be very plentiful, and
+that must be why the bonefish were plentiful, too. R. C. kept losing
+bait after bait, which he claimed was the work of crabs, but I rather
+believed it to be the work of bonefish. It was too windy for us to tell
+anything about the pressure of the line. It had to be quite a strong tug
+to be felt at all. Presently I felt one, and instead of striking at once
+I waited to see what would happen. After a while I reeled in to find my
+bait gone. Then I was consoled by the proof that a bonefish had taken
+the bait off for me. Another time three bonefish came along for my bait
+and stuck their tails up out of the water, and were evidently nosing
+around it, but I felt absolutely nothing on the line. When I reeled in
+the bait was gone.
+
+We kept up this sort of thing for two hours. I knew that we were doing
+it wrong. R. C. said bad conditions, but I claimed that these were only
+partly responsible for our failure. I knew that we moved about too much,
+that we did not cast far enough and wait long enough, and that by all
+means we should not have cracked bait on the bottom of the boat, and
+particularly we did not know when we had a bite! But it is one thing to
+be sure of a fact and another to be able to practise it. At last we gave
+up in despair, and upon paddling back toward the launch we saw a school
+of bonefish with their tails in the air. We followed them around for a
+while, apparently very much to their amusement. At sunset we got back
+to the launch and started for camp.
+
+This was a long, hard afternoon's work for nothing. However, it is my
+idea that experience is never too dearly bought. I will never do some
+things again, and the harder these fish are to catch, the more time and
+effort it takes--the more intelligence and cunning--all the more will I
+appreciate success if it ever does come. It is in the attainment of
+difficult tasks that we earn our reward. There are several old bonefish
+experts here in camp, and they laughed when I related some of our
+experiences. Bonefishermen are loath to tell anything about their
+methods. This must be a growth of the difficult game. I had an expert
+bonefisherman tell me that when he was surprised while fishing on one of
+the shoals, he always dropped his rod and pretended to be digging for
+shells. And it is a fact that the bonefish guides at Metacumbe did not
+let any one get a line on their methods. They will avoid a
+bonefishing-ground while others are there, and if they are surprised
+there ahead of others, they will pull up anchor and go away. May I be
+preserved from any such personal selfishness and reticence as this! One
+of these bonefish experts at the camp told me that in all his years of
+experience he had never gotten a bonefish bite. If you feel a tug, it is
+when the bonefish is ejecting the hook. Then it is too late. The
+bonefish noses around the bait and sucks it in without any apparent
+movement of the line. And that can be detected first by a little sagging
+of the line or by a little strain upon it. That is the time to strike.
+He also said that he always broke his soldier crabs on a piece of lead
+to prevent the jar from frightening the fish.
+
+Doctor B. tells a couple of interesting experiences with bonefish. On
+one occasion he was fishing near another boat in which was a friend. The
+water was very clear and still, and he could see his friend's bait lying
+upon the sand. An enormous bonefish swam up and took the bait, and
+Doctor B. was so thrilled and excited that he could not yell. When the
+man hooked the fish it shot off in a straightaway rush, raising a ridge
+upon the water. It ran the length of the line and freed itself. Later
+Doctor B.'s friend showed the hook, that had been straightened out. They
+measured the line and found it to be five hundred and fifty-five feet.
+The bonefish had gone the length of this in one run, and they estimated
+that he would have weighed not less than fifteen pounds.
+
+On another occasion Dr. B. saw a heavy bonefish hooked. It ran
+straight off shore, and turning, ran in with such speed that it
+came shooting out upon dry land and was easily captured. These two
+instances are cases in point of the incredible speed and strength
+of this strange fish.
+
+R. C. had a splendid fight with a bonefish to-day. The wind was blowing
+hard and the canoe was not easy to fish out of. We had great difficulty
+in telling when we did have a bite. I had one that I know of. When R. C.
+hooked his fish it sheered off between the canoe and the beach and ran
+up-shore quite a long way. Then it headed out to sea and made a long
+run, and then circled. It made short, quick surges, each time jerking R.
+C.'s rod down and pulling the reel handle out of his fingers. He had to
+put on a glove. We were both excited and thrilled with the gameness of
+this fish. It circled the canoe three times, and tired out very slowly.
+When he got it close the very thing happened that I feared. It darted
+under the anchor rope and we lost it. This battle lasted about fifteen
+minutes, and afforded us an actual instance of the wonderful qualities
+of this fish.
+
+Yesterday R. C. hooked a bonefish that made a tremendous rush straight
+offshore, and never stopped until he had pulled out the hook. This must
+have been a very heavy and powerful fish.
+
+I had my taste of the same dose to-day. I felt a tiny little tug upon my
+line that electrified me and I jerked as hard as I dared. I realized
+that I had hooked some kind of fish, but, as it was wiggling and did not
+feel heavy, I concluded that I had hooked one of those pesky blowfish.
+But all of a sudden my line cut through the water and fairly whistled. I
+wound in the slack and then felt a heavy fish. He made a short plunge
+and then a longer one, straight out, making my reel scream. I was afraid
+to thumb the line, so I let him go. With these jerky plunges he ran
+about three hundred feet. Then I felt my line get fast, and, handing my
+rod to R. C., I slipped off my shoes and went overboard. I waded out,
+winding as I went, to find that the bonefish had fouled the line on a
+sponge on the bottom, and he had broken free just above the hook.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Yesterday the fag end of the northeast gale still held on, but we
+decided to try for bonefish. Low tide at two o'clock.
+
+I waded up-shore with the canoe, and R. C. walked. It was a hard job to
+face the wind and waves and pull the canoe. It made me tired and wet.
+
+When we got above the old camp the tide had started in. We saw bonefish
+tails standing up out of the water. Hurriedly baiting our hooks, we
+waded to get ahead of them. But we could not catch them wading, so went
+back to the canoe and paddled swiftly ahead, anchored, and got out to
+wade once more.
+
+R. C. was above me. We saw the big tail of one bonefish and both of us
+waded to get ahead of him. At last I made a cast, but did not see him
+any more. The wind was across my line, making a big curve in it, and I
+was afraid I could not tell a bite if I had one. Was about to reel in
+when I felt the faint tug. I swept my rod up and back, hard as I dared.
+The line came tight, I felt a heavy weight; a quiver, and then my rod
+was pulled down. I had hooked him. The thrill was remarkable. He took a
+short dash, then turned. I thought I had lost him. But he was running
+in. Frantically I wound the reel, but could not get in the slack. I saw
+my line coming, heard it hiss in the water, then made out the dark shape
+of a bonefish. He ran right at me--almost hit my feet. When he saw me he
+darted off with incredible speed, making my reel scream. I feared the
+strain on the line, and I plunged through the water as fast as I could
+after him. He ran four hundred feet in that dash, and I ran fifty. Not
+often have I of late years tingled and thrilled and panted with such
+excitement. It was great. It brought back the days of boyhood. When he
+stopped that run I was tired and thoroughly wet. He sheered off as I
+waded and wound in. I got him back near me. He shot off in a shoal place
+of white mud where I saw him plainly, and he scared a school of bonefish
+that split and ran every way. My fish took to making short circles; I
+could not keep a tight line. Lost! I wound in fast, felt him again, then
+absolutely lost feel of him or sight of him. Lost again! My sensations
+were remarkable, considering it was only a fish of arm's-length at the
+end of the line. But these bonefish rouse an angler as no other fish
+can. All at once I felt the line come tight. He was still on, now
+running inshore.
+
+The water was about a foot deep. I saw the bulge, or narrow wave, he
+made. He ran out a hundred feet, and had me dashing after him again. I
+could not trust that light line at the speed he swam, so I ran to
+release the strain. He led me inshore, then up-shore, and out toward sea
+again, all the time fighting with a couple of hundred feet of line out.
+Occasionally he would make a solid, thumping splash. He worked offshore
+some two hundred yards, where be led me in water half to my hips. I had
+to try to stop him here, and with fear and trepidation I thumbed the
+reel. The first pressure brought a savage rush, but it was short. He
+turned, and I wound him back and waded inshore.
+
+From that moment I had him beaten, although I was afraid of his short
+thumps as he headed away and tugged. Finally I had him within twenty
+feet circling around me, tired and loggy, yet still strong enough to
+require careful handling.
+
+He looked short and heavy, pale checked green and silver; and his
+staring black eye, set forward in his pointed white nose, could be
+plainly seen. This fish made a rare picture for an angler.
+
+So I led him to the canoe and, ascertaining that I had him well hooked,
+I lifted him in.
+
+Never have I seen so beautiful a fish. A golden trout, a white sea-bass,
+a dolphin, all are beautiful, but not so exquisite as this bonefish. He
+seemed all bars of dazzling silver. His tail had a blue margin and
+streaks of lilac. His lower (anal) fins were blazing with opal fire, and
+the pectoral fins were crystal white. His eye was a dead, piercing
+black, staring and deep. We estimated his weight. I held for six pounds,
+but R. C. shook his head. He did not believe that. But we agreed on the
+magnificent fight he had made.
+
+Then we waded up-shore farther and began to fish. In just five minutes I
+had the same kind of strike, slight, almost imperceptible, vibrating,
+and I hooked a fish exactly as I had the first one. He was light of
+weight, but swift as a flash. I played him from where I stood. This time
+I essayed with all skill to keep a taut line. It was impossible. Now I
+felt his weight and again only a slack line. This fish, too, ran right
+to my feet, then in a boiling splash sheered away. But he could not go
+far. I reeled him back and led him to the canoe. He was small, and the
+smallness of him was such a surprise in contrast to what his fight had
+led me to imagine he was.
+
+R. C. had one strike and broke his line on the jerk. We had to give up
+on account of sunset at hand.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+There was another hard thunder-storm last night. The last few days have
+begun the vernal equinox. It rained torrents all night and stopped at
+dawn. The wind was northeast and cool. Cloudy overhead, with purple
+horizon all around--a forbidding day. But we decided to go fishing,
+anyhow. We had new, delicate three-six tackles to try. About seven the
+wind died away. There was a dead calm, and the sun tried to show. Then
+another breeze came out of the east.
+
+We went up on the inside after bait, and had the luck to find some.
+Crossing the island, we came out at the old construction camp where we
+had left the canoe. By this time a stiff breeze was blowing and the tide
+was rising fast. We had our troubles paddling and poling up to the grove
+of cocoanuts. Opposite this we anchored and began to fish.
+
+Conditions were not favorable. The water was choppy and roily, the canoe
+bobbed a good deal, the anchors dragged, and we did not see any fish.
+All the same, we persevered. At length I had a bite, but pulled too
+late. We tried again for a while, only to be disappointed. Then we
+moved.
+
+We had to put the stern anchor down first and let it drag till it held
+and the canoe drifted around away from the wind, then we dropped the bow
+anchor. After a time I had a faint feeling at the end of my line--an
+indescribable feeling. I jerked and hooked a bonefish. He did not feel
+heavy. He ran off, and the wind bagged my line and the waves also helped
+to pull out the hook.
+
+Following that we changed places several times, in one of which R. C.
+had a strike, but failed to hook the fish. Just opposite the old wreck
+on the shore I had another fish take hold, and, upon hooking him, had
+precisely the same thing happen as in the first instance. I think the
+bag of my line, which I could not avoid, allowed the lead to sag down
+and drag upon the bottom. Of course when it caught the bonefish pulled
+free.
+
+In some places we found the water clearer than in others. Flood-tide had
+long come when we anchored opposite the old camp. R. C. cast out upon a
+brown patch of weeds where we have caught some fine fish, and I cast
+below. Perhaps in five minutes or less R. C. swept up his rod. I saw it
+bend forward, down toward the water. He had hooked a heavy fish. The
+line hissed away to the right, and almost at once picked up a good-sized
+piece of seaweed.
+
+"It's a big fish!" I exclaimed, excitedly. "Look at him go!... That
+seaweed will make you lose him. Let me wade out and pull it off?"
+
+"No! Let's take a chance.... Too late, anyhow! Gee! He's going!... He's
+got two hundred yards out!"
+
+Two-thirds of the line was off the reel, and the piece of seaweed seemed
+to be a drag on the fish. He slowed up. The line was tight, the rod
+bent. Suddenly the tip sprang back. We had seen that often before.
+
+"Gone!" said R. C., dejectedly.
+
+But I was not so sure of that, although I was hopeless. R. C. wound in,
+finding the line came slowly, as if weighted. I watched closely. We
+thought that was on account of the seaweed. But suddenly the reel began
+to screech.
+
+"I've got him yet!" yelled R. C., with joy.
+
+I was overjoyed, too, but I contained myself, for I expected dire
+results from that run.
+
+Zee! Zee! Zee! went the reel, and the rod nodded in time.
+
+"We must get rid of that seaweed or lose him.... Pull up your anchor
+with one hand.... Careful now."
+
+He did so, and quickly I got mine up. What ticklish business!
+
+"Keep a tight line!" I cautioned, as I backed the canoe hard with all my
+power. It was not easy to go backward and keep head on to the wind. The
+waves broke over the end of the canoe, splashing me in the face so I
+could taste and smell the salt. I made half a dozen shoves with the
+paddle. Then, nearing the piece of seaweed, I dropped my anchor.
+
+In a flash I got that dangerous piece of seaweed off R. C.'s line.
+
+"Good work!... Say, but that helps.... We'd never have gotten him," said
+R. C., beaming. I saw him look then as he used to in our sunfish,
+bent-pin days.
+
+"We've not got him yet," I replied, grimly. "Handle him as easily as you
+can."
+
+Then began a fight. The bonefish changed his swift, long runs, and took
+to slow sweeps to and fro, and whenever he was drawn a few yards closer
+he would give a solid jerk and get that much line back. There was much
+danger from other pieces of floating weed. R. C. maneuvered his line to
+miss them. All the time the bonefish was pulling doggedly. I had little
+hope we might capture him. At the end of fifteen minutes he was still a
+hundred yards from the canoe and neither of us had seen him. Our
+excitement grew tenser every moment. The fish sheered to and fro, and
+would not come into shallower water. He would not budge. He took one
+long run straight up the shore, in line with us, and then circled out.
+This alarmed me, but he did not increase his lead. He came slowly
+around, yard by yard. R. C. reeled carefully, not hard enough to
+antagonize him, and after what seemed a long time got him within a
+hundred feet, and I had a glimpse of green and silver. Then off he ran
+again. How unbelievably swift! He had been close--then almost the same
+instant he was far off.
+
+"I saw him! On a wave!" yelled R. C. "That's no bonefish! What can he
+be, anyhow? I believe I've got a barracuda!"
+
+I looked and looked, but I could not see him.
+
+"No matter what you think you saw, that fish is a bonefish," I declared,
+positively. "The runs he made! I saw silver and green! Careful now. I
+_know_ he's a bonefish. And he must be big."
+
+"Maybe it's only the wind and waves that make him feel so strong,"
+replied R. C.
+
+"No! You can't fool me! Play him for a big one. He's been on
+twenty-three minutes now. Stand up--I'll steady the canoe--and watch for
+that sudden rush when he sees the canoe. The finish is in sight."
+
+It was an indication of a tiring fish that he made his first circle of
+the canoe, but too far out for us to see him. This circling a boat is a
+remarkable feature, and I think it comes from the habit of a bonefish of
+pulling broadside. I cautioned R. C. to avoid the seaweed and to lead
+him a little more, but to be infinitely careful not to apply too much
+strain. He circled us again, a few yards closer. The third circle he did
+not gain a foot. Then he was on his fourth lap around the canoe, drawing
+closer. On his fifth lap clear round us he came near as fifty feet. I
+could not resist standing up to see. I got a glimpse of him and he
+looked long. But I did not say anything to R. C. We had both hooked too
+many big bonefish that got away immediately. This was another affair.
+
+He circled us the sixth time. Six times! Then he came rather close. On
+this occasion he saw the canoe. He surged and sped out so swiftly that I
+was simply paralyzed. R. C. yelled something that had a note of
+admiration of sheer glory in the spirit of that fish.
+
+"Here's where he leaves us!" I echoed.
+
+But, as luck would have it, he stopped that run short of two hundred
+yards; and turned broadside to circle slowly back, allowing R. C. to get
+in line. He swam slower this time, and did not make the heavy tugs. He
+came easily, weaving to and fro. R. C. got him to within twenty-five
+feet of the boat, yet still could not see him. It was my job to think
+quick and sit still with ready hands on the anchor rope. He began to
+plunge, taking a little line each time. Then suddenly I saw R. C.'s line
+coming toward us. I knew that would happen.
+
+"Now! Look out! Reel in fast!" I cried, tensely.
+
+As I leaned over to heave up the anchor, I saw the bonefish flashing
+nearer. At that instant of thrilling excitement and suspense I could not
+trust my eyesight. There he was, swimming heavily, and he looked three
+feet long, thick and dark and heavy. I got the anchor up just as he
+passed under the canoe. Maybe I did not revel in pride of my quickness
+of thought and action!
+
+"Oh! He's gone under the rope!" gasped R. C.
+
+"No!" I yelled, sharply. "Let your line run out! Put your tip down!
+We'll drift over your line."
+
+R. C. was dominated to do so, and presently the canoe drifted over where
+the line was stretched. That second ticklish moment passed. It had
+scared me. But I could not refrain from one sally.
+
+"I got the anchor up. What did you think I'd do?"
+
+R. C. passed by my remark. This was serious business for him. He looked
+quite earnest and pale.
+
+"Say! did you see him?" he ejaculated, looking at me.
+
+"Wish I hadn't," I replied.
+
+We were drifting inshore, which was well, provided we did not drift too
+hard to suit the bonefish. He swam along in plain sight, and he seemed
+so big that I would not have gazed any longer if I could have helped it.
+
+I kept the canoe headed in, and we were not long coming to shallow
+water. Here the bonefish made a final dash for freedom, but it was short
+and feeble, compared with his first runs. He got about twenty feet away,
+then sheered, showing his broad, silver side. R. C. wound him in close,
+and an instant later the bow of the canoe grated on shore.
+
+"Now what?" asked R. C. as I stepped out into the water. "Won't it be
+risky to lift him into the canoe?"
+
+"Lift nothing! I have this all figured out. Lead him along."
+
+R. C. stepped out upon the beach while I was in the water. The bonefish
+lay on his side, a blaze of silver. I took hold of the line very gently
+and led the fish a little closer in. The water was about six inches
+deep. There were waves beating in--a miniature surf. And I calculated on
+the receding of a wave. Then with one quick pull I slid our beautiful
+quarry up on the coral sand. The instant he was out of the water the
+leader snapped. I was ready for this, too. But at that it was an awful
+instant! As the wave came back, almost deep enough to float the
+bonefish, I scooped him up.
+
+"He's ours!" I said, consulting my watch. "Thirty-three minutes! I give
+you my word that fight was comparable to ones I've had with a Pacific
+swordfish."
+
+"Look at him!" R. C. burst out. "Look at him! When the leader broke I
+thought he was lost. I'm sick yet. Didn't you almost bungle that?"
+
+"Not a chance, R. C.," I replied. "Had that all figured. I never put any
+strain on your line until the wave went back. Then I slid him out, the
+leader broke, and I scooped him up."
+
+R. C. stood gazing down at the glistening, opal-spotted fish. What a
+contrast he presented to any other kind of a fish! How many beautiful
+species have we seen lying on sand or moss or ferns, just come out of
+the water! But I could remember no other so rare as this bonefish. The
+exceeding difficulty of the capture of this, our first really large
+bonefish, had a great deal to do with our admiration and pride. For the
+hard work of any achievement is what makes it worth while. But this had
+nothing to do with the exquisite, indescribable beauty of the bonefish.
+He was long, thick, heavy, and round, with speed and power in every
+line; a sharp white nose and huge black eyes. The body of him was live,
+quivering silver, molten silver in the sunlight, crossed and barred with
+blazing stripes. The opal hues came out upon the anal fin, and the broad
+tail curled up, showing lavender tints on a background of brilliant
+blue. He weighed eight pounds. Symbolic of the mysterious life and
+beauty in the ocean! Wonderful and prolific as nature is on land, she is
+infinitely more so in the sea. By the sun and the sea we live; and I
+shall never tire of seeking and studying the manifold life of the deep.
+
+
+
+
+VIII
+
+SOME RARE FISH
+
+
+It is very strange that the longer a man fishes the more there seems to
+be to learn. In my case this is one of the secrets of the fascination of
+the game. Always there will be greater fish in the ocean than I have
+ever caught.
+
+Five or six years ago I heard the name "waahoo" mentioned at Long Key.
+The boatmen were using it in a way to make one see that they did not
+believe there was such a fish as a waahoo. The old conch fishermen had
+never heard the name. For that matter, neither had I.
+
+Later I heard the particulars of a hard and spectacular fight Judge
+Shields had had with a strange fish which the Smithsonian declared to be
+a waahoo. The name waahoo appears to be more familiarly associated with
+a shrub called burning-bush, also a Pacific coast berry, and again a
+small tree of the South called winged elm. When this name is mentioned
+to a fisherman he is apt to think only fun is intended. To be sure, I
+thought so.
+
+In February, 1915, I met Judge Shields at Long Key, and, remembering his
+capture of this strange fish some years previous, I questioned him. He
+was singularly enthusiastic about the waahoo, and what he said excited
+my curiosity. Either the genial judge was obsessed or else this waahoo
+was a great fish. I was inclined to believe both, and then I forgot all
+about the matter.
+
+This year at Long Key I was trolling for sailfish out in the Gulf
+Stream, a mile or so southeast of Tennessee Buoy. It was a fine day for
+fishing, there being a slight breeze and a ripple on the water. My
+boatman, Captain Sam, and I kept a sharp watch on all sides for
+sailfish. I was using light tackle, and of course trolling, with the
+reel free running, except for my thumb.
+
+Suddenly I had a bewildering swift and hard strike. What a wonder that I
+kept the reel from over-running! I certainly can testify to the burn on
+my thumb.
+
+Sam yelled "Sailfish!" and stooped for the lever, awaiting my order to
+throw out the clutch.
+
+Then I yelled: "Stop the boat, Sam!... It's no sailfish!"
+
+That strike took six hundred feet of line quicker than any other I had
+ever experienced. I simply did not dare to throw on the drag. But the
+instant the speed slackened I did throw it on, and jerked to hook the
+fish. I felt no weight. The line went slack.
+
+"No good!" I called, and began to wind in.
+
+At that instant a fish savagely broke water abreast of the boat, about
+fifty yards out. He looked long, black, sharp-nosed. Sam saw him, too.
+Then I felt a heavy pull on my rod and the line began to slip out. I
+jerked and jerked, and felt that I had a fish hooked. The line appeared
+strained and slow, which I knew to be caused by a long and wide bag in
+it.
+
+"Sam," I yelled, "the fish that jumped is on my line!"
+
+"No," replied Sam.
+
+It did seem incredible. Sam figured that no fish could run astern for
+two hundred yards and then quick as a flash break water abreast of us.
+But I knew it was true. Then the line slackened just as it had before. I
+began to wind up swiftly.
+
+"He's gone," I said.
+
+Scarcely had I said that when a smashing break in the water on the other
+side of the boat alarmed and further excited me. I did not see the fish.
+But I jumped up and bent over the stern to shove my rod deep into the
+water back of the propeller. I did this despite the certainty that the
+fish had broken loose. It was a wise move, for the rod was nearly pulled
+out of my hands. I lifted it, bent double, and began to wind furiously.
+So intent was I on the job of getting up the slack line that I scarcely
+looked up from the reel.
+
+"Look at him yump!" yelled Sam.
+
+I looked, but not quickly enough.
+
+"Over here! Look at him yump!" went on Sam.
+
+That fish made me seem like an amateur. I could not do a thing with him.
+The drag was light, and when I reeled in some line the fish got most of
+it back again. Every second I expected him to get free for sure. It was
+a miracle he did not shake the hook, as he certainly had a loose rein
+most all the time. The fact was he had such speed that I was unable to
+keep a strain upon him. I had no idea what kind of a fish it was. And
+Sam likewise was nonplussed.
+
+I was not sure the fish tired quickly, for I was so excited I had no
+thought of time, but it did not seem very long before I had him within
+fifty yards, sweeping in wide half-circles back of the boat.
+Occasionally I saw a broad, bright-green flash. When I was sure he was
+slowing up I put on the other drag and drew him closer. Then in the
+clear water we saw a strange, wild, graceful fish, the like of which we
+had never beheld. He was long, slender, yet singularly round and
+muscular. His color appeared to be blue, green, silver crossed by bars.
+His tail was big like that of a tuna, and his head sharper, more wolfish
+than a barracuda. He had a long, low, straight dorsal fin. We watched
+him swimming slowly to and fro beside the boat, and we speculated upon
+his species. But all I could decide was that I had a rare specimen for
+my collection.
+
+Sam was just as averse to the use of the gaff as I was. I played the
+fish out completely before Sam grasped the leader, pulled him close,
+lifted him in, and laid him down--a glistening, quivering, wonderful
+fish nearly six feet long.
+
+He was black opal blue; iridescent silver underneath; pale blue dorsal;
+dark-blue fins and copper-bronze tail, with bright bars down his body.
+
+I took this thirty-six pound fish to be a sea-roe, a game fish lately
+noticed on the Atlantic seaboard. But I was wrong. One old conch
+fisherman who had been around the Keys for forty years had never seen
+such a fish. Then Mr. Schutt came and congratulated me upon landing a
+waahoo.
+
+The catching of this specimen interested me to inquire when I could, and
+find out for myself, more about this rare fish.
+
+Natives round Key West sometimes take it in nets and with the grains,
+and they call it "springer." It is well known in the West Indies, where
+it bears the name "queenfish." After studying this waahoo there were
+boatmen and fishermen at Long Key who believed they had seen schools of
+them. Mr. Schutt had observed schools of them on the reef, low down near
+the coral--fish that would run from forty to one hundred pounds. It made
+me thrill just to think of hooking a waahoo weighing anywhere near a
+hundred pounds. Mr. Shannon testified that he had once observed a school
+of waahoo leaping in the Gulf Stream--all very large fish. And once, on
+a clear, still day, I drifted over a bunch of big, sharp-nosed,
+game-looking fish that I am sure belonged to this species.
+
+The waahoo seldom, almost never, is hooked by a fisherman. This fact
+makes me curious. All fish have to eat, and at least two waahoo have
+been caught. Why not more? I do not believe that it is just a new fish.
+I see Palm Beach notices printed to the effect that sailfish were never
+heard of there before the Russo-Japanese War, and that the explosions of
+floating mines drove them from their old haunts. I do not take stock in
+such theory as that. As a matter of fact, Holder observed the sailfish
+(_Histiophorus_) in the Gulf Stream off the Keys many years ago.
+Likewise the waahoo must always have been there, absent perhaps in
+varying seasons. It is fascinating to ponder over tackle and bait and
+cunning calculated to take this rare denizen of the Gulf Stream.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+During half a dozen sojourns at Long Key I had heard of two or three
+dolphin being caught by lucky anglers who were trolling for anything
+that would bite. But until 1916 I never saw a dolphin. Certainly I never
+hoped to take one of these rare and beautiful deep-sea fish. Never would
+have the luck. But in February I took two, and now I am forbidden the
+peculiar pleasure of disclaiming my fisherman's luck.
+
+Dolphin seems a singularly attractive name. It always made me think of
+the deep blue sea, of old tars, and tall-sparred, white-sailed brigs. It
+is the name of a fish beloved of all sailors. I do not know why, but I
+suspect that it is because the dolphin haunts ships and is an omen of
+good luck, and probably the most exquisitely colored fish in the ocean.
+
+One day, two miles out in the Gulf Stream, I got a peculiar strike,
+quite unlike any I had ever felt. A fisherman grows to be a specialist
+in strikes. This one was quick, energetic, jerky, yet strong. And it was
+a hungry strike. A fish that is hungry can almost always be hooked. I
+let this one run a little and then hooked him. He felt light, but
+savage. He took line in short, zigzag rushes. I fancied it was a bonita,
+but Sam shook his head. With about a hundred yards of line out, the fish
+leaped. He was golden. He had a huge, blunt, bow-shaped head and a
+narrow tail. The distance was pretty far, and I had no certainty to go
+by, yet I yelled:
+
+"Dolphin!"
+
+Sam was not so sure, but he looked mighty hopeful. The fish sounded and
+ran in on me, then darted here and there, then began to leap and thresh
+upon the surface. He was hard to lead--a very strong fish for his light
+weight. I never handled a fish more carefully. He came up on a low
+swell, heading toward us, and he cut the water for fifty feet, with only
+his dorsal, a gleam of gold, showing in the sunlight.
+
+Next he jumped five times, and I could hear the wrestling sound he made
+when he shook himself. I had no idea what he might do next, and if he
+had not been securely hooked would have gotten off. I tried hard to keep
+the line taut and was not always successful. Like the waahoo, he
+performed tricks new to me. One was an awkward diving leap that somehow
+jerked the line in a way to alarm me. When he quit his tumbling and
+rushing I led him close to the boat.
+
+This has always been to me one of the rewards of fishing. It quite
+outweighs that doubtful moment for me when the fish lies in the boat or
+helpless on the moss. Then I am always sorry, and more often than not
+let the fish go alive.
+
+My first sight of a dolphin near at hand was one to remember. The fish
+flashed gold--deep rich gold--with little flecks of blue and white. Then
+the very next flash there were greens and yellows--changing, colorful,
+brilliant bars. In that background of dark, clear, blue Gulf Stream
+water this dolphin was radiant, golden, exquisitely beautiful. It was a
+shame to lift him out of the water. But--
+
+The appearance of the dolphin when just out of the water beggars
+description. Very few anglers in the world have ever had this
+experience. Not many anglers, perhaps, care for the beauty of a fish.
+But I do. And for the sake of those who feel the same way I wish I could
+paint him. But that seems impossible. For even while I gazed the fish
+changed color. He should have been called the chameleon of the ocean. He
+looked a quivering, shimmering, changeful creature, the color of
+golden-rod. He was the personification of beautiful color alive. The
+fact that he was dying made the changing hues. It gave me a pang--that I
+should be the cause of the death of so beautiful a thing.
+
+If I caught his appearance for one fleeting instant here it is: Vivid
+green-gold, spotted in brilliant blue, and each blue spot was a circle
+inclosing white. The long dorsal extending from nose to tail seemed
+black and purple near the head, shading toward the tail to rich olive
+green with splashes of blue. Just below the dorsal, on the background of
+gold, was a line of black dots. The fins were pearly silver beneath, and
+dark green above. All the upper body was gold shading to silver, and
+this silver held exquisite turquoise-blue spots surrounded with white
+rings, in strange contrast to those ringed dots above. There was even a
+suggestion of pink glints. And the eyes were a deep purple with gold
+iris.
+
+The beauty of the dolphin resembled the mystery of the Gulf Stream--too
+illusive for the eye of man.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+More than once some benighted angler had mentioned bonefish to me. These
+individuals always appeared to be quiet, retiring fishermen who
+hesitated to enlarge upon what was manifestly close to their hearts. I
+had never paid any attention to them. Who ever heard of a bonefish,
+anyway? The name itself did not appeal to my euphonious ear.
+
+But on this 1916 trip some faint glimmering must have penetrated the
+density of my cranium. I had always prided myself upon my conviction
+that I did not know it all, but, just the same, I had looked down from
+my lofty height of tuna and swordfish rather to despise little
+salt-water fish that could not pull me out of the boat. The waahoo and
+the dolphin had opened my eyes. When some mild, quiet, soft-voiced
+gentleman said bonefish to me again I listened. Not only did I listen, I
+grew interested. Then I saw a couple of bonefish. They shone like
+silver, were singularly graceful in build, felt heavy as lead, and
+looked game all over. I made the mental observation that the man who had
+named them bonefish should have had half of that name applied to his
+head.
+
+After that I was more interested in bonefish. I never failed to ask
+questions. But bonefishermen were scarce and as reticent as scarce. To
+sum up all of my inquiries, I learned or heard a lot that left me
+completely bewildered, so that I had no idea whether a bonefish was a
+joke or the grandest fish that swims. I deducted from the amazing
+information that if a fisherman sat all day in the blazing sun and had
+the genius to discover when he had a bite he was learning. No one
+ever caught bonefish without days and days of learning. Then there were
+incidents calculated to disturb the peace of a contemplative angler like
+myself.
+
+ [Illustration: AT LONG KEY, THE LONELY CORAL SHORE WHERE THE SUN
+ SHINES WHITE ALL DAY AND THE STARS SHINE WHITE ALL NIGHT]
+
+ [Illustration: THE FAMOUS STUNT OF A MARLIN SWORDFISH, "WALKING ON
+ HIS TAIL"]
+
+One man with heavy tackle yanked some bonefish out of the tide right in
+front of my cabin, quite as I used to haul out suckers. Other men tried
+it for days without success, though it appeared bonefish were passing
+every tide. Then there was a loquacious boatman named Jimmy, who, when
+he had spare time, was always fishing for bonefish. He would tell the
+most remarkable tales about these fish. So finally I drifted to that
+fatal pass where I decided I wanted to catch bonefish. I imagined it
+would be easy for me. So did Captain Sam. Alas! the vanity of man!
+
+Forthwith Captain Sam and I started out to catch soldier-crabs for bait.
+The directions we got from conch fishermen and others led us to assume
+that it would be an easy matter to find crabs. It was not! We had to go
+poking round mangrove roots until we learned how to catch the soldiers.
+If this had not been fun for me it would have been hard work. But ever
+since I was a little tad I have loved to chase things in the water. And
+upon this occasion it was with great satisfaction that I caught more
+bait than Captain Sam. Sam is something of a naturalist and he was
+always spending time over a curious bug or shell or object he found.
+Eventually we collected a bucketful of soldier-crabs.
+
+Next day, about the last of the ebb-tide, we tied a skiff astern and
+went up the Key to a cove where there were wide flats. While working our
+way inshore over the shoals we hit bottom several times and finally
+went aground. This did not worry us, for we believed the rising tide
+would float us.
+
+Then we got in the skiff and rowed toward the flats. I was rather
+concerned to see that apparently the tide was just about as high along
+this shore as it ever got. Sam shook his head. The tides were strange
+around the Keys. It will be high on the Gulf side and low on the
+Atlantic side, and sometimes it will run one way through the channels
+for thirty-six hours. But we forgot this as soon as we reached the
+bonefish shoals.
+
+Sam took an oar and slowly poled inshore, while I stood up on a seat to
+watch for fish. The water was from six to eighteen inches deep and very
+clear and still. The bottom appeared to be a soft mud, gray, almost
+white in color, with patches of dark grass here and there. It was really
+marl, which is dead and decayed coral.
+
+Scarcely had we gotten over the edge of this shoal when we began to see
+things--big blue crabs, the kind that can pinch and that play havoc with
+the fishermen's nets, and impudent little gray crabs, and needle-fish,
+and small chocolate-colored sharks--nurse sharks, Sam called them--and
+barracuda from one foot to five feet in length, and whip-rays and
+sting-rays. It was exceedingly interesting and surprising to see all
+these in such shallow water. And they were all tame.
+
+Here and there we saw little boils of the water, and then a muddy patch
+where some fish had stirred the marl. Sam and I concluded these were
+made by bonefish. Still, we could not be sure. I can see a fish a long
+way in the water and I surely was alert. But some time elapsed and we
+had poled to within a few rods of the mangroves before I really caught
+sight of our coveted quarry. Then I saw five bonefish, two of them
+large, between the boat and the mangroves. They were motionless. Somehow
+the sight of them was thrilling. They looked wary, cunning, game, and
+reminded me of gray wolves I had seen on the desert. Suddenly they
+vanished. It was incredible the way they disappeared. When we got up to
+the place where they had been there were the little swirls in the roiled
+water.
+
+Then Sam sighted two more bonefish that flashed away too swiftly for me
+to see. We stuck an oar down in the mud and anchored the boat. It seemed
+absolutely silly to fish in water a foot deep. But I meant to try it.
+Putting a crab on my hook, I cast off ten or a dozen yards, and composed
+myself to rest and watch.
+
+Certainly I expected no results. But it was attractive there. The wide
+flat stretched away, bordered by the rich, dark mangroves. Cranes and
+pelicans were fishing off the shoals, and outside rippled the green
+channel, and beyond that the dark-blue sea. The sun shone hot. There was
+scarcely any perceptible breeze. All this would have been enjoyable and
+fruitful if there had not been a fish within a mile.
+
+Almost directly I felt a very faint vibration of my line. I waited,
+expectantly, thinking that I might be about to have a bite. But the line
+slackened and nothing happened.
+
+There were splashes all around us and waves and ripples here and there,
+and occasionally a sounding thump. We grew more alert and interested.
+Sam saw a bonefish right near the boat. He pointed, and the fish was
+gone. After that we sat very still, I, of course, expecting a bite every
+moment. Presently I saw a bonefish not six feet from the boat. Where he
+came from was a mystery, but he appeared like magic, and suddenly, just
+as magically, he vanished.
+
+"Funny fish," observed Sam, thoughtfully. Something had begun to dawn
+upon Sam, as it had upon me.
+
+No very long time elapsed before we had seen a dozen bonefish, any one
+of which I could have reached with my rod. But not a bite! I reeled in
+to find my bait gone.
+
+"That bait was eaten off by crabs," I said to Sam, as I put on another.
+
+Right away after my cast I felt, rather than saw, that slight vibration
+of my line. I waited as before, and just as before the line almost
+imperceptibly slackened and nothing happened.
+
+Presently I did see a blue crab deliberately cut my line. We had to move
+the boat, pick up the lost piece of line, and knot it to the other. Then
+I watched a blue crab tear off my bait. But I failed to feel or see that
+faint vibration of my line. We moved the boat again, and again my line
+was cut. These blue crabs were a nuisance. Sam moved the boat again. We
+worked up the flat nearer where the little mangroves, scarce a foot
+high, lifted a few leaves out of the water. Whenever I stood up I saw
+bonefish, and everywhere we could hear them. Once more we composed
+ourselves to watch and await developments.
+
+ [Illustration: SURGING IN A HALF-CIRCLE]
+
+ [Illustration: BROADBILL SWORDFISH ON THE SURFACE--THE MOST THRILLING
+ SIGHT TO A SEA ANGLER]
+
+In the succeeding hour I had many of the peculiar vibrations of my line,
+and, strange to see, every time I reeled in, part of my bait or all of
+it was gone. Still I fished on patiently for a bonefish bite.
+
+Meanwhile the sun lost its heat, slowly slanted to the horizon of
+mangroves, and turned red. It was about the hour of sunset and it turned
+out to be a beautiful and memorable one. Not a breath of air stirred.
+There was no sound except the screech of a gull and the distant splashes
+of wading birds. I had not before experienced silence on or near salt
+water. The whole experience was new. We remarked that the tide had not
+seemed to rise any higher. Everywhere were little swells, little waves,
+little wakes, all made by bonefish. The sun sank red and gold, and all
+the wide flat seemed on fire, with little mangroves standing clear and
+dark against the ruddy glow. And about this time the strangest thing
+happened. It might have been going on before, but Sam and I had not seen
+it. All around us were bonefish tails lifted out of the water. They
+glistened like silver. When a bonefish feeds his head is down and his
+tail is up, and, the water being shallow, the upper fluke of his tail
+stands out. If I saw one I saw a thousand. It was particularly easy to
+see them in the glassy water toward the sunset.
+
+A school of feeding bonefish came toward us. I counted eleven tails out
+of the water. They were around my bait. Now or never, I thought, waiting
+frantically! But they went on feeding--passed over my line--and came so
+near the boat that I could plainly see the gray shadow shapes, the
+long, sharp noses, the dark, staring eyes. I reeled in to find my bait
+gone, as usual. It was exasperating.
+
+We had to give up then, as darkness was not far off. Sam was worried
+about the boat. He rowed while I stood up. Going back, I saw bonefish in
+twos and fours and droves. We passed school after school. They had just
+come in from the sea, for they were headed up the flat. I saw many
+ten-pound fish, but I did not know enough about bonefish then to
+appreciate what I saw. However, I did appreciate their keen sight and
+wariness and wonderful speed and incredible power. Some of the big
+surges made me speculate what a heavy bonefish might do to light tackle.
+Sam and I were disappointed at our luck, somewhat uncertain whether it
+was caused by destructive work of crabs or the wrong kind of bait or
+both. It scarcely occurred to us to inquire into our ignorance.
+
+We found the boat hard and fast in the mud. Sam rowed me ashore. I
+walked back to camp, and he stayed all night, and all the next day,
+waiting for the tide to float the boat.
+
+After that on several days we went up to the flat to fish for bonefish.
+But we could not hit the right tide or the fish were not there. At any
+rate, we did not see any or get any bites.
+
+Then I began to fish for bonefish in front of my cottage. Whenever I
+would stick my rod in the sand and go in out of the hot sun a bonefish
+would take my bait and start off to sea. Before I could get back he
+would break something.
+
+This happened several times before I became so aroused that I
+determined to catch one of these fish or die. I fished and fished. I
+went to sleep in a camp-chair and absolutely ruined my reputation as an
+ardent fisherman. One afternoon, just after I had made a cast, I felt
+the same old strange vibration of my line. I was not proof against it
+and I jerked. Lo! I hooked a fish that made a savage rush, pulled my
+bass-rod out of shape, and took all my line before I could stop him.
+Then he swept from side to side. I reeled him in, only to have him run
+out again and again and yet again. I knew I had a heavy fish. I expected
+him to break my line. I handled him gingerly. Imagine my amaze to beach
+a little fish that weighed scarcely more than two pounds! But it was a
+bonefish--a glistening mother-of-pearl bonefish. Somehow the obsession
+of these bonefishermen began to be less puzzling to me. Sam saw me catch
+this bonefish, and he was as amazed as I was at the gameness and speed
+and strength of so small a fish.
+
+Next day a bonefisherman of years' experience answered a few questions I
+put to him. No, he never fished for anything except bonefish. They were
+the hardest fish in the sea to make bite, the hardest to land after they
+were hooked. Yes, that very, very slight vibration of the line--that
+strange feeling rather than movement--was the instant of their quick
+bite. An instant before or an instant after would be fatal.
+
+It dawned upon me then that on my first day I must have had dozens of
+bonefish bites, but I did not know it! I was humiliated--I was taken
+down from my lofty perch--I was furious. I thanked the gentleman for
+his enlightenment and went away in search of Sam. I told Sam, and he
+laughed--laughed at me and at himself. After all, it was a joke. And I
+had to laugh too. It is good for a fisherman to have the conceit taken
+out of him--if anything can accomplish that. Then Sam and I got our
+heads together. What we planned and what we did must make another story.
+
+
+
+
+IX
+
+SWORDFISH
+
+          _From records of the New York Bureau of Fisheries,
+                         by G. B. Goode_
+
+
+The swordfish, _Xiphias gladius_, ranges along the Atlantic coast of
+America from Jamaica (latitude 18 deg. N.), Cuba, and the Bermudas, to Cape
+Breton (latitude 47 deg. N.). It has not been seen at Greenland, Iceland, or
+Spitzbergen, but occurs, according to Collett, at the North Cape
+(latitude 71 deg.). It is abundant along the coasts of western Europe,
+entering the Baltic and the Mediterranean. I can find no record of the
+species on the west coast of Africa south of Cape Verde, though Lutken,
+who may have access to facts unknown to me, states that they occur clear
+down to the Cape of Good Hope, South Atlantic in mid-ocean, to the west
+coast of South America and to southern California (latitude 34 deg.), New
+Zealand, and in the Indian Ocean off Mauritius.
+
+The names of the swordfish all have reference to that prominent feature,
+the prolonged snout. The "swordfish" of our own tongue, the "zwardfis"
+of the Hollander, the Italian "sofia" and "pesce-spada," the Spanish
+"espada" and "espadarte," varied by "pez do spada" in Cuba, and the
+French "espadon," "dard," and "epee de mer," are simply variations of
+one theme, repetitions of the "gladius" of ancient Italy and "xiphius,"
+the name by which Aristotle, the father of zoology, called the same fish
+twenty-three hundred years ago. The French "empereur" and the
+"imperador" and the "ocean kingfish" of the Spanish and French West
+Indies, carry out the same idea, for the Roman Emperor was always
+represented holding a drawn sword in his hand. The Portuguese names are
+"aguhao," meaning "needle," or "needle-fish."
+
+This species has been particularly fortunate in escaping the numerous
+redescriptions to which almost all widely distributed forms have been
+subjected. By the writers of antiquity it was spoken of under its
+Aristotelian name, and in the tenth edition of his _Systema Naturae_, at
+the very inception of binomial nomenclative, Linnaeus called it _Xiphias
+gladius_. By this name it has been known ever since, and only one
+additional name is included in its synonym, _Xiphias rondeletic_ of
+Leach.
+
+The swordfish has been so long and so well known that its right to its
+peculiar name has seldom been infringed upon. The various species of
+_Tetrapturus_ have sometimes shared its title, and this is not to be
+wondered at, since they closely resemble _Xiphias gladius_, and the
+appellative has frequently been applied to the family _Xiphiidae_--the
+swordfish--which includes them all.
+
+The name "bill-fish," usually applied to our _Tetrapturus albidus_, a
+fish of the swordfish family, often taken on our coast, must be
+pronounced objectionable, since it is in many districts used for
+various species of Belonidae, the garfishes or green-bones (_Belone
+truncata_ and others), which are members of the same faunas. Spear-fish
+is a much better name.
+
+The "sailfish," _Histiophorus americanus_, is called by sailors in the
+South the "boohoo" or "woohoo." This is evidently a corrupted form of
+"guebum," a name, apparently of Indian origin, given to the same fish in
+Brazil. It is possible that _Tetrapturus_ is also called "boohoo," since
+the two genera are not sufficiently unlike to impress sailors with their
+differences. Blecker states that in Sumatra the Malays call the related
+species, _H. gladius_, by the name "Joohoo" (Juhu), a curious
+coincidence. The names may have been carried from the Malay Archipelago
+to South America, or _vice versa_, by mariners.
+
+In Cuba the spear-fish are called "aguja" and "aguja de palada"; the
+sailfish, "aguja prieta" or "aguja valadora"; _Tetrapturus albidus_
+especially known as the "aguja blanca," _T. albidus_ as the "aguja de
+castro."
+
+In the West Indies and Florida the scabbard-fish or silvery hairy-tail,
+_Trichiurus lepturus_, a form allied to the _Xiphias_, though not
+resembling it closely in external appearance, is often called
+"swordfish." The body of this fish is shaped like the blade of a saber,
+and its skin has a bright, metallic luster like that of polished steel,
+hence the name.
+
+Swordfish are most abundant on the shoals near the shore and on the
+banks during the months of July and August; that they make their
+appearance on the frequented cruising-grounds between Montauk Point and
+the eastern part of Georges Banks sometime between the 25th of May and
+the 20th of June, and that they remain until the approach of cold
+weather in October and November. The dates of the first fish on the
+cruising-grounds referred to are recorded for three years, and are
+reasonably reliable: in 1875, June 20th; in 1877, June 10th; in 1878,
+June 14th.
+
+South of the cruising-grounds the dates of arrival and departure are
+doubtless farther apart, the season being shorter north and east. There
+are no means of obtaining information, since the men engaged in this
+fishery are the only ones likely to remember the dates when the fish are
+seen.
+
+The swordfish comes into our waters in pursuit of its food. At least
+this is the most probable explanation of its movements, since the duties
+of reproduction appear to be performed elsewhere. Like the tuna, the
+bluefish, the bonito, and the squiteague, they pursue and prey upon the
+schools of menhaden and mackerel, which are so abundant in the summer
+months. "When you see swordfish, you may know that mackerel are about,"
+said an old fisherman to me. "When you see the fin-back whale following
+food, there you may find swordfish," said another. The swordfish also
+feeds upon squid, which are at times abundant on our banks.
+
+To what extent this fish is amenable to the influences of temperature is
+an unsolved problem. We are met at the outset by the fact that they are
+frequently taken on trawl lines which are set at the depth of one
+hundred fathoms or more, on the offshore banks. We know that the
+temperature of the water in these localities and at that depth is sure
+to be less than 40 deg. Fahr. How is this fact to be reconciled with the
+known habits of the fish, that it prefers the warmest weather of summer
+and swims at the surface in water of temperature ranging from 55 deg. to
+70 deg., sinking when cool winds blow below? The case seemed clear enough
+until the inconvenient discovery was made that swordfish are taken on
+bottom trawl lines. In other respects their habits agree closely with
+those of the mackerel tribe, all the members of which seem sensitive to
+slight changes in temperature, and which, as a rule, prefer temperature
+in the neighborhood of 50 deg. or more.
+
+ [Illustration: SHINING IN THE SUNLIGHT]
+
+ [Illustration: THROWING WHITE WATER LIKE THE EXPLOSION OF A TORPEDO]
+
+The appearance of the fish at the surface depends largely upon the
+temperature. They are seen only upon quiet summer days, in the morning
+before ten or eleven o'clock, and in the afternoon about four o'clock.
+Old fishermen say that they rise when the mackerel rise, and when the
+mackerel go down they go down also.
+
+Regarding the winter abode of the swordfish, conjecture is useless. I
+have already discussed this question at length with reference to the
+menhaden and mackerel. With the swordfish the conditions are very
+different. The former are known to spawn in our waters, and the schools
+of young ones follow the old ones in toward the shores. The latter do
+not spawn in our waters. We cannot well believe that they hibernate, nor
+is the hypothesis of a sojourn in the middle strata of mid-ocean exactly
+tenable. Perhaps they migrate to some distant region, where they spawn.
+But then the spawning-time of this species in the Mediterranean, as is
+related in a subsequent paragraph, appears to occur in the summer
+months, at the very time when the swordfish are most abundant in our own
+waters, apparently feeling no responsibility for the perpetuation of
+their species.
+
+The swordfish, when swimming at the surface, usually allows its dorsal
+fin and the upper lobe of its caudal fin to be visible, projecting out
+of the water. It is this habit which enables the fisherman to detect the
+presence of the fish. It swims slowly along, and the fishing-schooner
+with a light breeze finds no difficulty in overtaking it. When excited
+its motions are very rapid and nervous. Swordfish are sometimes seen to
+leap entirely out of the water. Early writers attributed this habit to
+the tormenting presence of parasites, but this theory seems hardly
+necessary, knowing what we do of its violent exertions at other times.
+The pointed head, the fins of the back and abdomen snugly fitting into
+grooves, the absence of ventrals, the long, lithe, muscular body,
+sloping slowly to the tail, fits it for the most rapid and forceful
+movement through the water. Prof. Richard Owen, testifying in an England
+court in regard to its power, said:
+
+    "It strikes with the accumulated force of fifteen
+    double-handed hammers. Its velocity is equal to that of a
+    swivel shot, and is as dangerous in its effect as a heavy
+    artillery projectile."
+
+Many very curious instances are on record of the encounter of this fish
+with other fishes, or of their attacks upon ships. What can be the
+inducement for it to attack objects so much larger than itself is hard
+to surmise. We are all familiar with the couplet from Oppian:
+
+     Nature her bounty to his mouth confined,
+     Gave him a sword, but left unarmed his mind.
+
+It surely seems as if temporary insanity sometimes takes possession of
+the fish. It is not strange that when harpooned it should retaliate by
+attacking its assailant. An old swordfisherman told Mr. Blackman that
+his vessel had been struck twenty times. There are, however, many
+instances of entirely unprovoked assaults on vessels at sea. Many of
+these are recounted in a later portion of this memoir. Their movements
+when feeding are discussed below as well as their alleged peculiarities
+of movement during breeding season.
+
+It is the universal testimony of our fishermen that two are never seen
+swimming close together. Captain Ashby says that they are always distant
+from each other at least thirty or forty feet.
+
+The pugnacity of the swordfish has become a byword. Without any special
+effort on my part, numerous instances of their attacks upon vessels have
+in the last ten years found their way into the pigeonhole labeled
+"Swordfish."
+
+AElian says (b. XXXII, c. 6) that the swordfish has a sharp-pointed snout
+with which it is able to pierce the sides of a ship and send it to the
+bottom, instances of which have been known near a place in Mauritania
+known as Cotte, not far from the river Sixus, on the African side of the
+Mediterranean. He describes the sword as like the beak of the ship
+known as the trireme, which was rowed with three banks of oars.
+
+The _London Daily News_ of December 11, 1868, contained the following
+paragraph, which emanated, I suspect, from the pen of Prof. R. A.
+Proctor.
+
+     Last Wednesday the court of common pleas--rather a strange place,
+     by the by, for inquiring into the natural history of fishes--was
+     engaged for several hours in trying to determine under what
+     circumstances a swordfish might be able to escape scot-free after
+     thrusting his snout into the side of a ship. The gallant ship
+     _Dreadnought_, thoroughly repaired and classed A1 at Lloyd's, had
+     been insured for L3,000 against all risks of the sea. She sailed on
+     March 10, 1864, from Columbo for London. Three days later the crew,
+     while fishing, hooked a swordfish. Xiphias, however, broke the
+     line, and a few moments after leaped half out of the water, with
+     the object, it should seem, of taking a look at his persecutor, the
+     _Dreadnaught_. Probably he satisfied himself that the enemy was
+     some abnormally large cetacean, which it was his natural duty to
+     attack forthwith. Be this as it may, the attack was made, and the
+     next morning the captain was awakened with the unwelcome
+     intelligence that the ship had sprung a leak. She was taken back to
+     Columbo, and thence to Cochin, where she hove down. Near the keel
+     was found a round hole, an inch in diameter, running completely
+     through the copper sheathing and planking.
+
+     As attacks by swordfish are included among sea risks, the insurance
+     company was willing to pay the damages claimed by the owners of the
+     ship, if only it could be proved that the hole had been really made
+     by aswordfish. No instances had ever been recorded in which a
+     swordfish which had passed its beak through three inches of stout
+     planking could withdraw without the loss of its sword. Mr. Buckland
+     said that fish have no power of "backing," and expressed his belief
+     that he could hold a swordfish by the beak; but then he admitted
+     that the fish had considerable lateral power, and might so "wriggle
+     its sword out of the hold." And so the insurance company will have
+     to pay nearly L600 because an ill-tempered fish objected to be
+     hooked and took its revenge by running full tilt against copper
+     sheathing and oak planking.
+
+ [Illustration: A LONG, SLIM SAILFISH WIGGLING IN THE AIR]
+
+ [Illustration: FIGHTING A BROADBILL SWORDFISH]
+
+The food of the swordfish is of a very mixed nature.
+
+Doctor Fleming found the remains of sepias in its stomach, and also
+small fishes. Oppian stated that it eagerly devours the _Hippuris_
+(probably _Coryphaena_). A specimen taken off Saconnet July 22, 1875, had
+in its stomach the remains of small fish, perhaps _Stromateus
+triacanthus_, and jaws of a squid, perhaps _Loligo pealin_. Their food
+in the western Atlantic consists for the most part of the common
+schooling species of fishes. They feed on menhaden, mackerel, bonitoes,
+bluefish, and other species which swim in close schools. Their habits of
+feeding have often been described to me by old fishermen. They are said
+to rise beneath the school of small fish, striking to the right and left
+with their swords until they have killed a number, which they then
+proceed to devour. Menhaden have been seen floating at the surface which
+have been cut nearly in twain by a blow of a sword. Mr. John H. Thompson
+remarks that he has seen them apparently throw the fish in the air,
+catching them on the fall.
+
+Capt. Benjamin Ashby says that they feed on mackerel, herring, whiting,
+and menhaden. He has found half a bucketful of small fish of these kind
+in the stomach of one swordfish. He has seen them in the act of feeding.
+They rise perpendicularly out of the water until the sword and
+two-thirds of the remainder of the body are exposed to view. He has seen
+a school of herring at the surface on Georges Banks as closely as they
+could be packed. A swordfish came up through the dense mass and fell
+flat on its side, striking many fish with the sides of its sword. He has
+at one time picked up as much as a bushel of herrings thus killed by a
+swordfish on Georges Banks.
+
+But little is known regarding their time and place of breeding. They are
+said to deposit their eggs in large quantities on the coasts of Sicily,
+and European writers give their spawning-time occurring the latter part
+of spring and the beginning of summer. In the Mediterranean they occur
+of all sizes from four hundred pounds down, and the young are so
+plentiful as to become a common article of food.
+
+M. Raymond, who brought to Cuvier a specimen of aistiophorn four inches
+long, taken in January, 1829, in the Atlantic, between the Cape of Good
+Hope and France, reported that there were good numbers of young sailfish
+in the place where this was taken.
+
+Meunier, quoting Spollongain, states that the swordfish does not
+approach the coast of Sicily except in the season of reproduction; the
+males are then seen pursuing the females. It is a good time to capture
+them, for when the female has been taken the male lingers near and is
+easily approached. The fish are abundant in the Straits of Messina from
+the middle of April to the middle of September; early in the season they
+hug the Calabrian shore, approaching from the north; after the end of
+June they are most abundant on the Sicilian shore, approaching from the
+south.
+
+From other circumstances, it seems certain that there are
+spawning-grounds in the seas near Sicily and Genoa, for from November
+to the 1st of March young ones are taken in the Straits of Messina,
+ranging in weight from half a pound to twelve pounds.
+
+In the Mediterranean, as has been already stated, the young fish are
+found from November to March, and here from July to the middle of
+September the male fish are seen pursuing the female over the shoals,
+and at this time the males are easily taken. Old swordfish fishermen,
+Captain Ashby and Captain Kirby, assure me that on our coast, out of
+thousands of specimens they have taken, they have never seen one
+containing eggs. I have myself dissected several males, none of which
+were near breeding-time. In the European waters they are said often to
+be seen swimming in pairs, male and female. Many sentimental stories
+were current, especially among the old writers, concerning the conjugal
+affection and unselfish devotion of the swordfish, but they seem to have
+originated in the imaginative brain of the naturalist rather than in his
+perceptive faculties. It is said that when the female fish is taken the
+male seems devoid of fear, approaches the boat, and allows himself
+easily to be taken, but if this be true, it appears to be the case only
+in the height of the breeding season, and is easily understood. I cannot
+learn that two swordfish have ever been seen associated together in our
+waters, though I have made frequent and diligent inquiry.
+
+There is no inherent improbability, however, in this story regarding the
+swordfish in Europe, for the same thing is stated by Professor Poey as
+the result upon the habits of _Tetrapturus_.
+
+The only individual of which we have the exact measurements was taken
+off Saconnet, Rhode Island, July 23, 1874. This was seven feet seven
+inches long, weighing one hundred and thirteen pounds. Another, taken
+off No Man's Land, July 20, 1875, and cast in plaster for the collection
+of the National Museum, weighed one hundred and twenty pounds and
+measured about seven feet. Another, taken off Portland, August 15, 1878,
+was 3,999 millimeters long and weighed about six hundred pounds. Many of
+these fish doubtless attain the weight of four and five hundred pounds,
+and some perhaps grow to six hundred; but after this limit is reached, I
+am inclined to believe larger fish are exceptional. Newspapers are fond
+of recording the occurrence of giant fish, weighing one thousand pounds
+and upward, and old sailors will in good faith describe the enormous
+fish which they saw at sea, but could not capture; but one
+well-authenticated instance of accurate weighing is much more valuable.
+The largest one ever taken by Capt. Benjamin Ashby, for twenty years a
+swordfish fisherman, was killed on the shoals back of Edgartown,
+Massachusetts. When salted it weighed six hundred and thirty-nine
+pounds. Its live weight must have been as much as seven hundred and
+fifty or eight hundred. Its sword measured nearly six feet. This was an
+extraordinary fish among the three hundred or more taken by Captain
+Ashby in his long experience. He considers the average size to be about
+two hundred and fifty pounds dressed, or five hundred and twenty-five
+alive. Captain Martin, of Gloucester, estimated the average size at
+three to four hundred pounds. The largest known to Captain Michaux
+weighed six hundred and twenty-eight. The average about Block Island he
+considers to be two hundred pounds.
+
+The size of the smallest swordfish taken on our eastern coast is a
+subject of much deeper interest, for it throws light on the time and
+place of breeding. There is some difference of testimony regarding the
+average size, but all fishermen with whom I have talked agree that very
+small ones do not find their way into our shore waters. Numerous very
+small specimens have, however, been already taken by the Fish Commission
+at sea, off our middle and southern coast.
+
+Capt. John Rowe has seen one which did not weigh more than seventy-five
+pounds when taken out of the water.
+
+Capt. R. H. Hurlbert killed near Block Island, in July, 1877, one which
+weighed fifty pounds and measured about two feet without its sword.
+
+Captain Ashby's smallest weighed about twenty-five pounds when dressed;
+this he killed off No Man's Land. He tells me that a Bridgeport smack
+had one weighing sixteen pounds (or probably twenty-four when alive),
+and measuring eighteen inches without its sword.
+
+In August, 1878, a small specimen of the mackerel-shark, _Lamna
+cornubica_, was captured at the mouth of Gloucester Harbor. In its
+nostril was sticking a sword, about three inches long, of a young
+swordfish. When this was pulled out the blood flowed freely, indicating
+that the wound was recent. The fish to which this sword belonged cannot
+have exceeded ten or twelve inches in length. Whether the small
+swordfish met with its misfortune in our waters, or whether the shark
+brought this trophy from beyond the sea, is an unsolved problem.
+
+Lutken speaks of a very young individual taken in the Atlantic, latitude
+32 deg. 50' N., 74 deg. 19' W. This must be about one hundred and fifty miles
+southeast of Cape Hatteras.
+
+For many years from three to six hundred of these fish have been taken
+annually on the New England coast. It is not unusual for twenty-five or
+more to be seen in the course of a single day's cruising, and sometimes
+as many as this are visible from the masthead at one time. Captain Ashby
+saw twenty at one time, in August, 1889, between Georges Banks and the
+South Shoals. One Gloucester schooner, _Midnight_, Capt. Alfred Wixom,
+took fourteen in one day on Georges Banks in 1877.
+
+Capt. John Rowe obtained twenty barrels, or four thousand pounds, of
+salt fish on one trip to Georges Banks; this amount represents twenty
+fish or more. Captain Ashby has killed one hundred and eight swordfish
+in one year; Capt. M. C. Tripp killed about ninety in 1874.
+
+Such instances as these indicate in a general way the abundance of the
+swordfish. A vessel cruising within fifty miles of our coast, between
+Cape May and Cape Sable, during the months of June, July, August, and
+September, cannot fail, on a favorable day, to come in sight of several
+of them. Mr. Earll states that the fishermen of Portland never knew them
+more abundant than in 1879. This is probably due in part to the fact
+that the fishery there is of a very recent origin.
+
+There is no evidence of any change in their abundance, either increase
+or decrease. Fishermen agree that they are as plentiful as ever, nor can
+any change be anticipated. The present mode does not destroy them in any
+considerable numbers, each individual fish being the object of special
+pursuit. The solitary habits of the species will always protect them
+from wholesale capture, so destructive to schooling fish. Even if this
+were not the case, the evidence proves that spawning swordfish do not
+frequent our waters. When a female shad is killed, thousands of possible
+young die also. The swordfish taken by our fishermen carry no such
+precious burden.
+
+"The small swordfish is very good meat," remarked Josselyn, in writing
+of the fishes of England in the seventeenth century. Since Josselyn
+probably never saw a young swordfish, unless at some time he had visited
+the Mediterranean, it is fair to suppose that his information was
+derived from some Italian writer.
+
+It is, however, a fact that the flesh of the swordfish, though somewhat
+oily, is a very acceptable article of food. Its texture is coarse; the
+thick, fleshy, muscular layers cause it to resemble that of the halibut
+in constituency. Its flavor is by many considered fine, and is not
+unlike that of the bluefish. Its color is gray. The meat of the young
+fish is highly prized on the Mediterranean, and is said to be perfectly
+white, compact, and of delicate flavor. Swordfish are usually cut up
+into steaks--thick slices across the body--and may be broiled or boiled.
+
+The apparatus ordinarily employed for the capture of the swordfish is
+simple in the extreme. It is the harpoon with the detachable head. When
+the fish is struck, the head of the harpoon remains in the body of the
+fish, and carries with it a light rope which is either made fast or held
+by a man in a small boat, or is attached to some kind of a buoy, which
+is towed through the water by the struggling fish, and which marks its
+whereabouts after death.
+
+The harpoon consists of a pole fifteen or sixteen feet in length,
+usually of hickory or some other hard wood, upon which the bark has been
+left, so that the harpooner may have a firmer hand-grip. This pole is
+from an inch and a half to two inches in diameter, and at one end is
+provided with an iron rod, or "shank," about two feet long and
+five-eighths of an inch in diameter. This "shank" is fastened to the
+pole by means of a conical or elongated, cuplike expansion at one end,
+which fits over the sharpened end of the pole, to which it is secured by
+screws or spikes. A light line extends from one end of the pole to the
+point where it joins the "shank" and in this line is tied a loop by
+which is made fast another short line which secures the pole to the
+vessel or boat, so that when it is thrown at the fish it cannot be lost.
+
+Upon the end of the "shank" fits the head of the harpoon, known by the
+names swordfish-iron, lily-iron, and Indian dart. The form of this
+weapon has undergone much variation. The fundamental idea may very
+possibly have been derived from the Indian fish-dart, numerous specimens
+of which are in the National Museum, from various tribes of Indians of
+New England, British America, and the Pacific. However various the
+modifications may have been, the similarity of the different shapes is
+no less noteworthy from the fact that all are peculiarly American. In
+the enormous collection of fishery implements of all lands at the late
+exhibition at Berlin, nothing of the kind could be found. What is known
+to whalers as a toggle-harpoon is a modification of the lily-iron, but
+so greatly changed by the addition of a pivot by which the head of the
+harpoon is fastened to the shank that it can hardly be regarded as the
+same weapon. The lily-iron is, in principle, exactly what a whaleman
+would describe by the word "toggle." It consists of a two-pointed piece
+of metal, having in the center, at one side, a ring or socket the axis
+of which is parallel with the long diameter of the implement. In this is
+inserted the end of the pole-shank, and to it or near it is also
+attached the harpoon-line. When the iron has once been thrust point
+first through some solid substance, such as the side of a fish, and is
+released upon the other side by the withdrawal of the pole from the
+socket, it is free, and at once turns its long axis at right angle to
+the direction in which the harpoon-line is pulling, and this is
+absolutely prevented from withdrawal. The principle of the whale harpoon
+or toggle-iron is similar, except that the pole is not withdrawn, and
+the head, turning upon a pivot at its end, fastens the pole itself
+securely to the fish, the harpoon-line being attached to some part of
+the pole. The swordfish lily-iron head, as now ordinarily used, is about
+four inches in length, and consists of two lanceolate blades, each about
+an inch and a half long, connected by a central piece much thicker than
+they, in which, upon one side, and next to the flat side of the blade,
+is the socket for the insertion of the pole-shank. In this same central
+enlargement is forged an opening to which the harpoon-line is attached.
+The dart-head is usually made of steel; sometimes of iron, which is
+generally galvanized; sometimes of brass.
+
+The entire weight of the harpoon--pole, shank, and head--should not
+exceed eighteen pounds.
+
+The harpoon-line is from fifty to one hundred and fifty fathoms long,
+and is ordinarily what is known as "fifteen-thread line." At the end is
+sometimes fastened a buoy, and an ordinary mackerel-keg is generally
+used for this purpose.
+
+In addition to the harpoon every swordfish fisherman carries a lance.
+This implement is precisely similar to a whaleman's lance, except that
+it is smaller, consisting of a lanceolate blade perhaps one inch wide
+and two inches long, upon the end of a shank of five-eighths-inch iron,
+perhaps two or three feet in length, fastened in the ordinary way upon a
+pole fifteen to eighteen feet in length.
+
+The swordfish are always harpooned from the end of the bowsprit of a
+sailing-vessel. It is next to impossible to approach them in a small
+boat. All vessels regularly engaged in this fishery are supplied with a
+special apparatus called a "rest," or "pulpit," for the support of the
+harpooner as he stands on the bowsprit, and this is almost essential to
+success, although it is possible for an active man to harpoon a fish
+from this station without the aid of the ordinary framework. Not only
+the professional swordfish fisherman, but many mackerel-schooners and
+packets are supplied in this manner.
+
+The swordfish never comes to the surface except in moderate, smooth
+weather. A vessel cruising in search of them proceeds to the
+fishing-ground, and cruises hither and thither wherever the abundance of
+small fish indicates that they ought to be found. Vessels which are met
+are hailed and asked whether any swordfish have been seen, and if
+tidings are thus obtained the ship's course is at once laid for the
+locality where they were last noticed. A man is always stationed at the
+masthead, where, with the keen eye which practice has given him, he can
+easily descry the telltale dorsal fins at a distance of two or three
+miles. When a fish has once been sighted, the watch "sings out," and the
+vessel is steered directly toward it. The skipper takes his place in the
+"pulpit" holding the pole in both hands by the small end, and directing
+the man at the wheel by voice and gesture how to steer. There is no
+difficulty in approaching the fish with a large vessel, although, as has
+already been remarked, they will not suffer a small boat to come near
+them. The vessel plows and swashes through the water, plunging its
+bowsprit into the waves without exciting their fears. Noises frighten
+them and drive them down. Although there would be no difficulty in
+bringing the end of a bowsprit directly over the fish, a skilful
+harpooner never waits for this. When the fish is from six to ten feet in
+front of the vessel it is struck. The harpoon is never thrown, the pole
+being too long. The strong arm of the harpooner punches the dart into
+the back of the fish, right at the side of the high dorsal fin, and the
+pole is withdrawn and fastened again to its place. When the dart has
+been fastened to the fish the line is allowed to run out as far as the
+fish will carry it, and is then passed in a small boat, which is towing
+at the stern. Two men jump into this, and pull in upon the line until
+the fish is brought in alongside; it is then killed with a whale-lance
+or a whale-spade, which is stuck into the gills.
+
+The fish having been killed, it is lifted upon the deck by a purchase
+tackle of two double blocks rigged in the shrouds.
+
+The pursuit of the swordfish is much more exciting than ordinary
+fishing, for it resembles the hunting of large animals upon the land and
+partakes more of the nature of the chase. There is no slow and careful
+baiting and patient waiting, and no disappointment caused by the
+accidental capture of worthless "bait-stealers." The game is seen and
+followed, and outwitted by wary tactics, and killed by strength of arm
+and skill. The swordfish is a powerful antagonist sometimes, and sends
+his pursuers' vessel into harbor leaking, and almost sinking, from
+injuries he has inflicted. I have known a vessel to be struck by wounded
+swordfish as many as twenty times in a season. There is even the spice
+of personal danger to savor the chase, for the men are occasionally
+wounded by the infuriated fish. One of Captain Ashby's crew was severely
+wounded by a swordfish which thrust his beak through the oak floor of a
+boat on which he was standing, and penetrated about two inches in his
+naked heel. The strange fascination draws men to this pursuit when they
+have once learned its charms. An old swordfish fisherman, who had
+followed the pursuit for twenty years, told me that when he was on the
+cruising-ground, he fished all night in his dreams, and that many a time
+he has rubbed the skin off his knuckles by striking them against the
+ceiling of his bunk when he raised his arms to thrust the harpoon into
+visionary monster swordfishes.
+
+               _The Spear-fish or Bill-fish_
+
+The bill-fish or spear-fish, _Tetrapturus indicus_ (with various related
+forms, which may or may not be specifically identical), occurs in the
+western Atlantic from the West Indies (latitude 10 deg. to 20 deg. N.) to
+southern England (latitude 40 deg. N.); in the eastern Atlantic, from
+Gibraltar (latitude 45 deg. N.) to the Cape of Good Hope (latitude 30 deg. S.)
+in the Indian Ocean, the Malay Archipelago, New Zealand (latitude 40 deg.
+S.), and on the west coast of Chile and Peru. In a general way, the
+range is between latitude 40 deg. N. and latitude 40 deg. S.
+
+The species of _Tetrapturus_ which we have been accustomed to call _T.
+albidus_, abundant about Cuba, is not very usual on the coast of
+southern New England. Several are taken every year by the swordfish
+fishermen. I have not known of their capture along the southern Atlantic
+coast of the United States. All I have known about were taken between
+Sandy Hook and the eastern part of Georges Banks.
+
+The Mediterranean spear-fish, _Tetrapturus balone_, appears to be a
+landlocked form, never passing west of the Straits of Gibraltar.
+
+The spear-fish in our waters is said by our fishermen to resemble the
+swordfish in its movements and manner of feeding. Professor Poey
+narrates that both the Cuban species swim at a depth of one hundred
+fathoms, and they journey in pairs, shaping their course toward the Gulf
+of Mexico, the females being full of eggs. Only adults are taken. It is
+not known whence they come, or where they breed, or how the young
+return. It is not even known whether the adult fish return by the same
+route. When the fish has swallowed the hook it rises to the surface,
+making prodigious leaps and plunges. At last it is dragged to the boat,
+secured with a boat-hook, and beaten to death before it is hauled on
+board. Such fishing is not without danger, for the spear-fish sometimes
+rushes upon the boat, drowning the fisherman, or wounding him with its
+terrible weapon. The fish becomes furious at the appearance of sharks,
+which are its natural enemies. They engage in violent combats, and when
+the spear-fish is attached to the fisherman's line it often receives
+frightful wounds from the adversaries.
+
+The spear-fish strikes vessels in the same manner as the swordfish. I am
+indebted to Capt. William Spicer, of Noank, Connecticut, for this note:
+
+     Mr. William Taylor, of Mystic, a man seventy-six years old, who was
+     in the smack _Evergreen_, Capt. John Appleman, tells me that they
+     started from Mystic, October 3, 1832, on a fishing voyage to Key
+     West, in company with the smack _Morning Star_, Captain Rowland. On
+     the 12th were off Cape Hatteras, the winds blowing heavily from the
+     northeast, and the smack under double-reefed sails. At ten o'clock
+     in the evening they struck a woho, which shocked the vessel all
+     over. The smack was leaking badly, and they made a signal to the
+     _Morning_ _Star_ to keep close to them. The next morning they
+     found the leak, and both smacks kept off Charleston. On arrival
+     they took out the ballast, hove her out, and found that the sword
+     had gone through the planking, timber, and ceiling. The plank was
+     two inches thick, the timber five inches, and the ceiling
+     one-and-a-half-inch white oak. The sword projected two inches
+     through the ceiling, on the inside of the "after run." It struck by
+     a butt on the outside, which caused the leak. They took out and
+     replaced a piece of the plank, and proceeded on their voyage.
+
+               _The Sailfish_
+
+The sailfish, _Histiophorus gladius_ (with _H. americanus_ and _H.
+orientalis_, questionable species, and _H. pulchellus_ and _H.
+immaculatus_, young), occurs in the Red Sea, Indian Ocean, Malay
+Archipelago, and south at least as far as the Cape of Good Hope
+(latitude 35 deg. S.); in the Atlantic on the coast of Brazil (latitude 30 deg.
+S.) to the equator, and north to southern New England (latitude 42 deg. N.);
+in the Pacific to southwestern Japan (latitude 30 deg. to 10 deg. N.). In a
+general way the range may be said to be in tropical and temperate seas,
+between latitude 30 deg. S. and 40 deg. N., and in the western parts of those
+seas.
+
+The first allusion to this genus occurs in Piso's _Historia Naturalis
+Brasiliae_ printed in Amsterdam in 1648. In this book may be found an
+identical, though rough, figure of the American species, accompanied by
+a few lines of description, which, though good, when the fact that they
+were written in the seventeenth century is brought to mind, are of no
+value for critical comparison.
+
+The name given to the Brazilian sailfish by Marcgrave, the talented
+young German who described the fish in the book referred to, and who
+afterward sacrificed his life in exploring the unknown fields of
+American zoology, is interesting, since it gives a clue to the
+derivation of the name "boohoo," by which this fish, and probably
+spear-fish, are known to English-speaking sailors in the tropical
+Atlantic.
+
+Sailfish were observed in the East Indies by Renard and Valentijn,
+explorers of that region from 1680 to 1720, and by other Eastern
+voyagers. No species of the genus was, however, systematically described
+until 1786, when a stuffed specimen from the Indian Ocean, eight feet
+long, was taken to London, where it still remains in the collections of
+the British Museum. From this specimen M. Broussonet prepared a
+description, giving it the name _Scomber gladius_, rightly regarding it
+as a species allied to the mackerel.
+
+From the time of Marcgrave until 1872 it does not appear that any
+zoologist had any opportunity to study a sailfish from America or even
+the Atlantic; yet in Gunther's Catalogue, the name _H. americanus_ is
+discarded and the species of America is assumed to be identical with
+that of the Indian Ocean.
+
+The materials in the National Museum consist of a skeleton and a painted
+plaster cast of the specimen taken near Newport, Rhode Island, in
+August, 1872, and given to Professor Baird by Mr. Samuel Powell, of
+Newport. No others were observed in our waters until March, 1878, when,
+according to Mr. Neyle Habersham, of Savannah, Georgia, two were taken
+by a vessel between Savannah and Indian River, Florida, and were brought
+to Savannah, where they attracted much attention in the market. In
+1873, according to Mr. E. G. Blackford, a specimen in a very mutilated
+condition was brought from Key West to New York City.
+
+No observations have been made in this country, and recourse must be had
+to the statements of observers in the other hemisphere.
+
+In the Life of Sir Stamford Raffles is printed a letter from Singapore,
+under date of November 30, 1822, with the following statement:
+
+     The only amusing discovery we have recently made is that of a
+     sailing-fish, called by the natives "ikan layer," of about ten or
+     twelve feet long, which hoists a mainsail, and often sails in the
+     manner of a native boat, and with considerable swiftness. I have
+     sent a set of the sails home, as they are beautifully cut and form
+     a model for a fast-sailing boat. When a school of these are under
+     sail together they are frequently mistaken for a school of native
+     boats.
+
+The fish referred to is in all likelihood _Histiophorus gladius_, a
+species very closely related to, if not identical with, our own.
+
+               _The Cutlass-fish_
+
+The cutlass-fish, _Trichiurus lepturus_, unfortunately known in eastern
+Florida and at Pensacola as the swordfish; at New Orleans, in the St.
+John's River, and at Brunswick, Georgia, it is known as the "silver
+eel"; on the coast of Texas as "saber-fish," while in the Indian River
+region it is called the "skip-jack." No one of these names is
+particularly applicable, and, the latter being preoccupied, it would
+seem advantageous to use in this country the name "cutlass-fish," which
+is current for the same species in the British West Indies.
+
+Its appearance is very remarkable on account of its long, compressed
+form and its glistening, silvery color. The name "scabbard-fish," which
+has been given to an allied species in Europe, would be very proper also
+for this species, for in general shape and appearance it looks very like
+the metallic scabbard of the sword. It attains the length of four or
+five feet, though ordinarily not exceeding twenty-five or thirty inches.
+This species is found in the tropical Atlantic, on the coast of Brazil,
+in the Gulf of California, the West Indies, the Gulf of Mexico, and
+north to Woods Hole, Massachusetts, where, during the past ten years,
+specimens have been occasionally taken. In 1845 one was found at
+Wellfleet, Massachusetts; and in the Essex Institute is a specimen which
+is said to have been found on the shores of the Norway Frith many years
+ago, and during the past decade it has become somewhat abundant in
+southern England. It does not, however, enter the Mediterranean. Some
+writers believed the allied species, _Trichiurus haumela_, found in the
+Indian Ocean and Archipelago and in various parts of the Pacific, to be
+specifically the same.
+
+The cutlass-fish is abundant in the St. John's River, Florida, in the
+Indian River region, and in the Gulf of Mexico. Several instances were
+related to me in which these fish had thrown themselves from the water
+into rowboats, a feat which might be very easily performed by a lithe,
+active species like the _Trichiurus_. A small one fell into a boat
+crossing the mouth of the Arlington River, where the water is nearly
+fresh.
+
+Many individuals of the same species are taken every year at the mouth
+of the St. John's River at Mayport. Stearn states that they are caught
+in the deep waters of the bays about Pensacola, swimming nearly at the
+surface, but chiefly with hooks and lines from the wharves. He has known
+them to strike at the oars of the boat and at the end of the ropes that
+trailed in the water. At Pensacola they reach a length of twenty to
+thirty inches, and are considered good food fish. Richard Hill states
+that in Jamaica this species is much esteemed, and is fished for
+assiduously in a "hole," as it is called--that is, a deep portion of the
+waters off Fort Augusta. This is the best fishing-place for the
+cutlass-fish, _Trichiurus_. The fishing takes place before day; all
+lines are pulled in as fast as they are thrown out, with the certainty
+that the cutlass has been hooked. As many as ninety boats have been
+counted on this fishing-ground at daybreak during the season.
+
+
+
+
+X
+
+THE GLADIATOR OF THE SEA
+
+
+Three summers in Catalina waters I had tried persistently to capture my
+first broadbill swordfish; and so great were the chances against me that
+I tried really without hope. It was fisherman's pride, I imagined,
+rather than hope that drove me. At least I had a remarkably keen
+appreciation of the defeats in store for any man who aspired to
+experience with that marvel of the sea--_Xiphius gladius_, the broadbill
+swordsman.
+
+On the first morning of my fourth summer, 1917, I was up at five. Fine,
+cool, fresh, soft dawn with a pale pink sunrise. Sea rippling with an
+easterly breeze. As the sun rose it grew bright and warm. We did not get
+started out on the water until eight o'clock. The east wind had whipped
+up a little chop that promised bad. But the wind gradually died down and
+the day became hot. Great thunderheads rose over the mainland,
+proclaiming heat on the desert. We saw scattered sheerwater ducks and a
+school of porpoises; also a number of splashes that I was sure were made
+by swordfish.
+
+The first broadbill I sighted had a skinned tail, and evidently had been
+in a battle of some kind. We circled him three times with flying-fish
+bait and once with barracuda, and as he paid no attention to them we
+left him. This fish leaped half out on two occasions, once showing his
+beautiful proportions, his glistening silver white, and his
+dangerous-looking rapier.
+
+ [Illustration: THE ONLY PHOTOGRAPH EVER TAKEN OF LEAPING BROADBILL
+ SWORDFISH]
+
+ [Illustration: XIPHIAS GLADIUS, THE BROADSWORDED GLADIATOR OF THE SEA]
+
+The second one leaped twice before we neared him. And as we made a poor
+attempt at circling him, he saw the boat and would have none of our
+offers.
+
+The third one was skimming along just under the surface, difficult to
+see. After one try at him we lost him.
+
+They were not up on the surface that day, as they are when the best
+results are obtained. The east wind may have had something to do with
+that. These fish would average about three hundred pounds each. Captain
+Dan says the small ones are more wary, or not so hungry, for they do not
+strike readily.
+
+I got sunburnt and a dizzy headache and almost seasick. Yet the day was
+pleasant. The first few days are always hard, until I get broken in.
+
+Next morning the water and conditions were ideal. The first two
+swordfish we saw did not stay on the surface long enough to be worked.
+The third one stayed up, but turned away from the bait every time we got
+it near him. So we left him.
+
+About noon I sighted a big splash a mile off shoreward, and we headed
+that way. Soon I sighted fins. The first time round we got the bait
+right and I felt the old thrill. He went down. I waited; but in vain.
+
+He leaped half out, and some one snapped a picture. It looked like a
+fortunate opportunity grasped. We tried him again, with flying-fish and
+barracuda. But he would not take either. Yet he loafed around on the
+surface, showing his colors, quite near the boat. He leaped clear out
+once, but I saw only the splash. Then he came out sideways, a skittering
+sort of plunge, lazy and heavy. He was about a three-hundred pounder,
+white and blue and green, a rare specimen of fish. We tried him again
+and drew a bait right in front of him. No use! Then we charged him--ran
+him down. Even then he was not frightened, and came up astern. At last,
+discouraged at his indifference, we left him.
+
+This day was ideal up to noon. Then the sun got very hot. My wrists were
+burnt, and neck and face. My eyes got tired searching the sea for fins.
+It was a great game, this swordfishing, and beat any other I ever tried,
+for patience and endurance. The last fish showed his cunning. They were
+all different, and a study of each would be fascinating and instructive.
+
+Next morning was fine. There were several hours when the sea was smooth
+and we could have sighted a swordfish a long distance. We went eastward
+of the ship course almost over to Newport. At noon a westerly wind
+sprang up and the water grew rough. It took some hours to be out of it
+to the leeward of the island.
+
+I saw a whale bend his back and sound and lift his flukes high in the
+air--one of the wonder sights of the ocean.
+
+It was foggy all morning, and rather too cool. No fish of any kind
+showed on the surface. One of those inexplicably blank days that are
+inevitable in sea angling.
+
+When we got to the dock we made a discovery. There was a kink in my
+leader about one inch above the hook. Nothing but the sword of old
+_Xiphius gladius_ could have made that kink! Then I remembered a
+strange, quick, hard jerk that had taken my bait, and which I thought
+had been done by a shark. It was a swordfish striking the bait off!
+
+Next day we left the dock at six fifteen, Dan and I alone. The day was
+lowering and windy--looked bad. We got out ahead of every one. Trolled
+out five miles, then up to the west end. We got among the Japs fishing
+for albacore.
+
+About eleven I sighted a B. B. We dragged a bait near him and he went
+down with a flirt of his tail. My heart stood still. Dan and I both made
+sure it was a strike. But, no! He came up far astern, and then went down
+for good.
+
+The sea got rough. The wind was chilling to the bone. Sheerwater ducks
+were everywhere, in flocks and singly. Saw one yellow patch of small
+bait fish about an inch long. This patch was forty yards across. No fish
+appeared to be working on it.
+
+Dan sighted a big swordfish. We made for him. Dan put on an albacore.
+But it came off before I could let out the line. Then we tried a
+barracuda. I got a long line out and the hook pulled loose. This was
+unfortunate and aggravating. We had one barracuda left. Dan hooked it on
+hard.
+
+"That'll never come off!" he exclaimed. We circled old _Xiphius_, and
+when about fifty yards distant he lifted himself clear out--a most
+terrifying and magnificent fish. He would have weighed four hundred. His
+colors shone--blazed--purple blue, pale green, iridescent copper, and
+flaming silver. Then he made a long, low lunge away from us. I bade him
+good-by, but let the barracuda drift back. We waited a long time while
+the line slowly bagged, drifting toward us. Suddenly I felt a quick,
+strong pull. It electrified me. I yelled to Dan. He said, excitedly,
+"Feed it to him!" but the line ceased to play out. I waited, slowly
+losing hope, with my pulses going back to normal. After we drifted for
+five minutes I wound in the line. The barracuda was gone and the leader
+had been rolled up. This astounded us. That swordfish had taken my bait.
+I felt his first pull. Then he had come toward the boat, crushing the
+bait off the hook, without making even a twitch on the slack line. It
+was heartbreaking. But we could not have done any different. Dan decided
+the fish had come after the teasers. This experience taught us exceeding
+respect for the broadbill.
+
+Again we were off early in the morning. Wind outside and growing rough.
+Sun bright until off Isthmus, when we ran into fog. The Jap
+albacore-boats were farther west. Albacore not biting well. Sea grew
+rough. About eleven thirty the fog cleared and the sea became
+beautifully blue and white-crested.
+
+I was up on the deck when a yell from below made me jump. I ran back.
+Some one was holding my rod, and on the instant that a huge swordfish
+got the bait had not the presence of mind to throw off the drag and let
+out line. We hurried to put on another flying-fish and I let out the
+line.
+
+Soon Dan yelled, "There he is--behind your bait!"
+
+I saw him--huge, brown, wide, weaving after my bait. Then he hit it with
+his sword. I imagined I could feel him cut it. Winding in, I found the
+bait cut off neatly back of the head. While Dan hurried with another
+bait I watched for the swordfish, and saw him back in the wake, rather
+deep. He was following us. It was an intensely exciting moment. I let
+the bait drift back. Almost at once I felt that peculiar rap at my bait,
+then another. Somehow I knew he had cut off another flying-fish. I
+reeled in. He had severed this bait in the middle. Frantically we baited
+again. I let out a long line, and we drifted. Hope was almost gone when
+there came a swift tug on my line, and then the reel whirred. I thumbed
+the pad lightly. Dan yelled for me to let him have it. I was all
+tingling with wonderful thrills. What a magnificent strike! He took line
+so fast it amazed me.
+
+All at once, just as Dan yelled to hook him, the reel ceased to turn,
+the line slacked. I began to jerk hard and wind in, all breathless with
+excitement and frenzy of hope. Not for half a dozen pumps and windings
+did I feel him. Then heavy and strong came the weight. I jerked and
+reeled. But I did not get a powerful strike on that fish. Suddenly the
+line slacked and my heart contracted. He had shaken the hook. I reeled
+in. Bait gone! He had doubled on me and run as swiftly toward the boat
+as he had at first run from it.
+
+The hook had not caught well. Probably he had just held the bait between
+his jaws. The disappointment was exceedingly bitter and poignant. My
+respect for _Xiphius_ increased in proportion to my sense of lost
+opportunity. This great fish thinks! That was my conviction.
+
+We sighted another that refused to take a bait and soon went down.
+
+We had learned the last few days that broadbills will strike when not on
+the surface, just as Marlin swordfish do.
+
+On our next day out we had smooth sea all morning, with great,
+slow-running swells, long and high, with deep hollows between. Vast,
+heaving bosom of the deep! It was majestic. Along the horizon ran dark,
+low, lumpy waves, moving fast. A thick fog, like a pall, hung over the
+sea all morning.
+
+About eleven o'clock I sighted fins. We made a circle round him, and
+drew the bait almost right across his bill. He went down. Again that
+familiar waiting, poignant suspense!... He refused to strike.
+
+Next one was a big fellow with pale fins. We made a perfect circle, and
+he went down as if to take the bait!... But he came up. We tried again.
+Same result. Then we put on an albacore and drew that, tail first, in
+front of him. Slowly he swam toward it, went down, and suddenly turned
+and shot away, leaving a big wake. He was badly scared by that albacore.
+
+Next one we worked three times before he went down, and the last one
+gave us opportunity for only one circle before he sank.
+
+They are shy, keen, and wise.
+
+The morning following, as we headed out over a darkly rippling sea, some
+four miles off Long Point, where we had the thrilling strikes from the
+big swordfish, and which place we had fondly imagined was our happy
+hunting-ground--because it was near shore and off the usual fishing
+course out in the channel--we ran into Boschen fighting a fish.
+
+This is a spectacle not given to many fishermen, and I saw my
+opportunity.
+
+With my glass I watched Boschen fight the swordfish, and I concluded
+from the way he pulled that he was fast to the bottom of the ocean. We
+went on our way then, and that night when I got in I saw his wonderful
+swordfish, the world's record we all knew he would get some day. Four
+hundred and sixty-three pounds! And he had the luck to kill this great
+fish in short time. My friend Doctor Riggin, a scientist, dissected this
+fish, and found that Boschen's hook had torn into the heart. This
+strange feature explained the easy capture, and, though it might detract
+somewhat from Boschen's pride in the achievement, it certainly did not
+detract from the record.
+
+That night, after coming in from the day's hunt for swordfish, Dan and I
+decided to get good bait. At five thirty we started for seal rocks. The
+sun was setting, and the red fog over the west end of the island was
+weird and beautiful. Long, slow swells were running, and they boomed
+inshore on the rocks. Seals were barking--a hoarse, raucous croak. I saw
+a lonely heron silhouetted against the red glow of the western horizon.
+
+We fished--trolling slowly a few hundred yards offshore--and soon were
+fighting barracuda, which we needed so badly for swordfish bait.
+
+They strike easily, and put up a jerky kind of battle. They are a long,
+slim fish, yellow and white in the water, a glistening pale bronze and
+silver when landed. I hooked a harder-fighting fish, which, when brought
+in, proved to be a white sea-bass, a very beautiful species with faint
+purplish color and mottled opal tints above the deep silver.
+
+Next morning we left the bay at six thirty. It was the calmest day we
+had had in days. The sea was like a beveled mirror, oily, soft, and
+ethereal, with low swells barely moving. An hour and a half out we were
+alone on the sea, out of sight of land, with the sun faintly showing,
+and all around us, inclosing and mystical, a thin haze of fog.
+
+Alone, alone, all alone on a wide, wide sea! This was wonderful, far
+beyond any pursuit of swordfish.
+
+We sighted birds, gulls, and ducks floating like bits of colored cork,
+and pieces of kelp, and at length a broadbill. We circled him three
+times with barracuda, and again with a flying-fish. Apparently he had no
+interest in edibles. He scorned our lures. But we stayed with him until
+he sank for good.
+
+Then we rode the sea for hours, searching for fins.
+
+At ten forty we sighted another. Twice we drew a fresh fine barracuda in
+front of him, which he refused. It was so disappointing, in fact, really
+sickening.
+
+Dan was disgusted. He said, "We can't get them to bite!"
+
+And I said, "Let's try again!"
+
+So we circled him once more. The sea was beautifully smooth, with the
+slow swells gently heaving. The swordfish rode them lazily and
+indifferently. His dorsal stood up straight and stiff, and the big
+sickle-shaped tail-fin wove to and fro behind. I gazed at them
+longingly, in despair, as unattainable. I knew of nothing in the
+fishing game as tantalizing and despairing as this sight.
+
+ [Illustration: A STRAIGHTAWAY GREYHOUND LEAP, MARVELOUS FOR ITS SPEED
+ AND WILDNESS]
+
+ [Illustration: LIKE A LEAPING SPECTER]
+
+We got rather near him this time, as he turned, facing us, and slowly
+swam in the direction of my bait. I could see the barracuda shining
+astern. Dan stopped the boat. I slowly let out line. The swordfish
+drifted back, and then sank.
+
+I waited, intensely, but really without hope. And I watched my bait
+until it sank out of sight. Then followed what seemed a long wait.
+Probably it was really only a few moments. I had a sort of hopeless
+feeling. But I respected the fish all the more.
+
+Then suddenly I felt a quiver of my line, as if an electric current had
+animated it. I was shocked keen and thrilling. My line whipped up and
+ran out.
+
+"He's got it!" I called, tensely. That was a strong, stirring instant as
+with fascinated eyes I watched the line pass swiftly and steadily off
+the reel. I let him run a long way.
+
+Then I sat down, jammed the rod in the socket, put on the drag, and
+began to strike. The second powerful sweep of the rod brought the line
+tight and I felt that heavy live weight. I struck at least a dozen times
+with all my might while the line was going off the reel. The swordfish
+was moving ponderously. Presently he came up with a great splash,
+showing his huge fins, and then the dark, slender, sweeping sword. He
+waved that sword, striking fiercely at the leader. Then he went down. It
+was only at this moment I realized I had again hooked a broadbill. Time,
+ten forty-five.
+
+The fight was on.
+
+For a while he circled the boat and it was impossible to move him a
+foot. He was about two hundred and fifty yards from us. Every once in a
+while he would come up. His sword would appear first, a most
+extraordinary sight as it pierced the water. We could hear the swish.
+Once he leaped half out. We missed this picture. I kept a steady, hard
+strain on him, pumping now and then, getting a little line in, which he
+always got back. The first hour passed swiftly with this surface fight
+alternating with his slow heavy work down. However, he did not sound.
+
+About eleven forty-five he leaped clear out, and we snapped two pictures
+of him. It was a fierce effort to free the hook, a leap not beautiful
+and graceful, like that of the Marlin, but magnificent and dogged.
+
+After this leap he changed his tactics. Repeatedly I was pulled forward
+and lifted from my seat by sudden violent jerks. They grew more frequent
+and harder. He came up and we saw how he did that. He was facing the
+boat and batting the leader with his sword. This was the most remarkable
+action I ever observed in a fighting fish. That sword was a weapon. I
+could hear it hit the leader. But he did most of this work under the
+surface. Every time he hit the leader it seemed likely to crack my neck.
+The rod bent, then the line slackened so I could feel no weight, the rod
+flew straight. I had an instant of palpitating dread, feeling he had
+freed himself--then harder came the irresistible, heavy drag again. This
+batting of the leader and consequent slacking of the line worried Dan,
+as it did me. Neither of us expected to hold the fish. As a performance
+it was wonderful. But to endure it was terrible. And he batted that
+leader at least three hundred times!
+
+In fact, every moment or two he banged the leader several times for over
+an hour. It almost wore me out. If he had not changed those tactics
+again those jerks would have put a kink in my neck and back. But
+fortunately he came up on the surface to thresh about some more. Again
+he leaped clear, affording us another chance for a picture. Following
+that he took his first long run. It was about one hundred yards and as
+fast as a Marlin. Then he sounded. He stayed down for half an hour. When
+he came up somewhat he seemed to be less resistant, and we dragged him
+at slow speed for several miles. At the end of three hours I asked Dan
+for the harness, which he strapped to my shoulders. This afforded me
+relief for my arms and aching hands, but the straps cut into my back,
+and that hurt. The harness enabled me to lift and pull by a movement of
+shoulders. I worked steadily on him for an hour, five different times
+getting the two-hundred-foot mark on the line over my reel. When I tired
+Dan would throw in the clutch and drag him some more. Once he followed
+us without strain for a while; again we dragged him two or three miles.
+And most remarkable of all, there was a period of a few moments when he
+towed us. A wonderful test for a twenty-four-strand line! We made
+certain of this by throwing papers overboard and making allowance for
+the drift. At that time there was no wind. I had three and one-half
+hours of perfectly smooth water.
+
+It was great to be out there on a lonely sea with that splendid fish. I
+was tiring, but did not fail to see the shimmering beauty of the sea,
+the playing of albacore near at hand, the flight of frightened
+flying-fish, the swooping down of gulls, the dim shapes of boats far
+off, and away above the cloud-bank of fog the mountains of California.
+
+About two o'clock our indefatigable quarry began to belabor the leader
+again. He appeared even more vicious and stronger. That jerk, with its
+ragged, rough loosening of the line, making me feel the hook was tearing
+out, was the most trying action any fish ever worked on me. The physical
+effort necessary to hold him was enough, without that onslaught on my
+leader. Again there came a roar of water, a splash, and his huge
+dark-blue and copper-colored body surged on the surface. He wagged his
+head and the long black sword made a half-circle. The line was taut from
+boat to fish in spite of all I could do in lowering my rod. I had to
+hold it up far enough to get the spring. There was absolutely no way to
+keep him from getting slack. The dangerous time in fighting heavy,
+powerful fish is when they head toward the angler. Then the hook will
+pull out more easily than at any other time. He gave me a second long
+siege of these tactics until I was afraid I would give out. When he got
+through and sounded I had to have the back-rest replaced in the seat to
+rest my aching back.
+
+Three o'clock came and passed. We dragged him awhile, and found him
+slower, steadier, easier to pull. That constant long strain must have
+been telling upon him. It was also telling upon me. As I tried to
+save some strength for the finish, I had not once tried my utmost at
+lifting him or pulling him near the boat. Along about four o'clock he
+swung round to the west in the sun glare and there he hung, broadside,
+about a hundred yards out, for an hour. We had to go along with him.
+
+ [Illustration: WALKING ON HIS TAIL]
+
+ [Illustration: A MAGNIFICENT FLASHING LEAP. THIS PERFECT PICTURE
+ CONSIDERED BY AUTHOR TO BE WORTH HIS FIVE YEARS' LABOR AND PATIENCE]
+
+The sea began to ripple with a breeze, and at length white-caps
+appeared. In half an hour it was rough, not bad, but still making my
+work exceedingly hard. I had to lift the rod up to keep the seat from
+turning and to hold my footing on the slippery floor. The water dripping
+from the reel had wet me and all around me.
+
+At five o'clock I could not stand the harness any longer, so had Dan
+remove it. That was a relief. I began to pump my fish as in the earlier
+hours of the fight. Eventually I got him out of that broadside position
+away from us and to the boat. He took some line, which I got back. I now
+began to have confidence in being able to hold him. He had ceased
+batting the leader. For a while he stayed astern, but gradually worked
+closer. This worried Dan. He was getting under the boat. Dan started
+faster ahead and still the swordfish kept just under us, perhaps fifty
+feet down. It was not long until Dan was running at full speed. But we
+could not lose the old gladiator! Then I bade Dan slow down, which he
+was reluctant to do. He feared the swordfish would ram us, and I had
+some qualms myself. At five thirty he dropped astern again and we
+breathed freer. At this time I decided to see if I could pull him close.
+I began to pump and reel, and inch by inch, almost, I gained line. I
+could not tell just how far away he was, because the marks had worn off
+my line. It was amazing and thrilling, therefore, to suddenly see the
+end of the double line appear. Dan yelled. So did I. Like a Trojan I
+worked till I got that double line over my reel. Then we all saw the
+fish. He was on his side, swimming with us--a huge, bird-shaped creature
+with a frightful bill. Dan called me to get the leader out of water and
+then hold. This took about all I had left of strength. The fish wavered
+from side to side, and Dan feared he would go under the boat. He ordered
+me to hold tight, and he put on more speed. This grew to be more than I
+could stand. It was desperately hard to keep the line from slipping. And
+I knew a little more of that would lose my fish. So I called Dan to take
+the leader. With his huge gaff in right hand, Dan reached for the leader
+with his left, grasped it, surged the fish up and made a lunge. There
+came a roar and a beating against the boat. Dan yelled for another gaff.
+It was handed to him and he plunged that into the fish.
+
+Then I let down my rod and dove for the short rope to lasso the sweeping
+tail. Fortunately he kept quiet a moment in which I got the loop fast.
+It was then _Xiphius gladius_ really woke up. He began a tremendous
+beating with his tail. Both gaff ropes began to loosen, and the rope on
+his tail flew out of my hands. Dan got it in time. But it was slipping.
+He yelled for me to make a hitch somewhere. I was pulled flat in the
+cockpit, but scrambled up, out on the stern, and held on to that rope
+grimly while I tried to fasten it. Just almost impossible! The water was
+deluging us. The swordfish banged the boat with sodden, heavy blows.
+But I got the rope fast. Then I went to Dan's assistance. The two of us
+pulled that tremendous tail up out of the water and made fast the rope.
+Then we knew we had him. But he surged and strained and lashed for a
+long while. And side blows of his sword scarred the boat. At last he
+sagged down quiet, and we headed for Avalon. Once more in smooth water,
+we loaded him astern. I found the hook just in the corner of his mouth,
+which fact accounted for the long battle.
+
+Doctor Riggin, the University of Pennsylvania anatomist, and classmate
+of mine, dissected this fish for me. Two of the most remarkable features
+about _Xiphius gladius_ were his heart and eye.
+
+The heart was situated deep in just back of the gills. It was a big
+organ, exceedingly heavy, and the most muscular tissue I ever saw. In
+fact, so powerfully muscular was it that when cut the tissue contracted
+and could not be placed together again. The valves were likewise
+remarkably well developed and strong. This wonderful heart accounted for
+the wonderful vitality of the swordfish. The eyes of a swordfish
+likewise proved the wonder of nature. They were huge and prominent, a
+deep sea-blue set in pale crystal rims and black circles. A swordfish
+could revolve his eyes and turn them in their sockets so that they were
+absolutely protected in battle with his mates and rivals. The eye had a
+covering of bone, cup-shaped, and it was this bone that afforded
+protection. It was evident that when the eye was completely turned in
+the swordfish could not see at all. Probably this was for close battle.
+The muscles were very heavy and strong, one attached at the rim of the
+eye and the other farther back. The optic nerve was as large as the
+median nerve of a man's arm--that is to say, half the size of a
+lead-pencil. There were three coverings over the fluid that held the
+pupil. And these were as thick and tough as isinglass. Most remarkable
+of all was the ciliary muscle which held the capacity of contracting the
+lens for distant vision. A swordfish could see as far as the rays of
+light penetrated in whatever depth he swam. I have always suspected he
+had extraordinary eyesight, and this dissection of the eye proved it. No
+fear a swordfish will not see a bait! He can see the boat and the bait a
+long distance.
+
+Doctor Riggin found no sperm in any of the male fish he dissected, which
+was proof that swordfish spawn before coming to Catalina waters. They
+are a warm-water fish, and probably head off the Japan current into some
+warm, intersecting branch that leads to spawning-banks.
+
+This was happy knowledge for me, because it will be good to know that
+when old _Xiphius gladius_ is driven from Catalina waters he will be
+roaming some other place of the Seven Seas, his great sickle fins
+shining dark against the blue.
+
+ [Illustration: TIRED OUT--THE LAST SLOW HEAVE]
+
+ [Illustration: HAULED ABOARD WITH BLOCK AND TACKLE]
+
+
+
+
+XI
+
+SEVEN MARLIN SWORDFISH IN ONE DAY
+
+
+San Clemente lies forty miles south of Santa Catalina, out in the
+Pacific, open to wind and fog, scorched by sun, and beaten on every
+shore by contending tides. Seen from afar, the island seems a bleak,
+long, narrow strip of drab rock rising from a low west end to the
+dignity of a mountain near the east end. Seen close at hand, it is still
+barren, bleak, and drab; but it shows long golden slopes of wild oats;
+looming, gray, lichen-colored crags, where the eagles perch; and rugged
+deep canons, cactus-covered on the south side and on the other indented
+by caves and caverns, and green with clumps of wild-lilac and
+wild-cherry and arbor-vitae; and bare round domes where the wild goats
+stand silhouetted against the blue sky.
+
+This island is volcanic in origin and structure, and its great caves
+have been made by blow-holes in hot lava. Erosion has weathered slope
+and wall and crag. For the most part these slopes and walls are
+exceedingly hard to climb. The goat trails are narrow and steep, the
+rocks sharp and ragged, the cactus thick and treacherous. Many years ago
+Mexicans placed goats on the island for the need of shipwrecked sailors,
+and these goats have traversed the wild oat slopes until they are like
+a network of trails. Every little space of grass has its crisscross of
+goat trails.
+
+I rested high up on a slope, in the lee of a rugged rock, all
+rust-stained and gray-lichened, with a deep cactus-covered canon to my
+left, the long, yellow, windy slope of wild oats to my right, and
+beneath me the Pacific, majestic and grand, where the great white
+rollers moved in graceful heaves along the blue. The shore-line, curved
+by rounded gravelly beach and jutted by rocky point, showed creeping
+white lines of foam, and then green water spotted by beds of golden
+kelp, reaching out into the deeps. Far across the lonely space rose
+creamy clouds, thunderheads looming over the desert on the mainland.
+
+A big black raven soared by with dismal croak. The wind rustled the
+oats. There was no other sound but the sound of the sea--deep,
+low-toned, booming like thunder, long crash and continuous roar.
+
+How wonderful to watch eagles in their native haunts! I saw a bald eagle
+sail by, and then two golden eagles winging heavy flight after him.
+There seemed to be contention or rivalry, for when the white-headed bird
+alighted the others swooped down upon him. They circled and flew in and
+out of the canon, and one let out a shrill, piercing scream. They
+disappeared and I watched a lonely gull riding the swells. He at least
+was at home on the restless waters. Life is beautiful, particularly
+elemental life. Then far above I saw the white-tipped eagle and I
+thrilled to see the difference now in his flight. He was monarch of the
+air, king of the wind, lonely and grand in the blue. He soared, he
+floated, he sailed, and then, away across the skies he flew, swift as an
+arrow, to slow and circle again, and swoop up high and higher,
+wide-winged and free, ringed in the azure blue, and then like a
+thunderbolt he fell, to vanish beyond the crags.
+
+Again I saw right before me a small brown hawk, poised motionless,
+resting on the wind, with quivering wings, and he hung there, looking
+down for his prey--some luckless lizard or rat. He seemed suspended on
+wires. There, down like a brown flash he was gone, and surely that swoop
+meant a desert tragedy.
+
+I heard the bleat of a lamb or kid, and it pierced the melancholy roar
+of the sea.
+
+If there is a rapture on the lonely shore, there was indeed rapture here
+high above it, blown upon by the sweet, soft winds. I heard the bleat
+close at hand. Turning, I saw a she-goat with little kid scarce a foot
+high. She crossed a patch of cactus. The kid essayed to follow here, but
+found the way too thorny. He bleated--a tiny, pin-pointed bleat--and his
+mother turned to answer encouragingly. He leaped over a cactus,
+attempted another, and, failing, fell on the sharp prickers. He bleated
+in distress and scrambled out of that hard and painful place. The mother
+came around, and presently, reunited, they went on, to disappear.
+
+The island seemed consecrated to sun and sea. It lay out of the latitude
+of ships. Only a few Mexican sheep-herders lived there, up at the east
+end where less-rugged land allowed pasture for their flocks. A little
+rain falls during the winter months, and soon disappears from the
+porous canon-beds. Water-holes were rare and springs rarer. The summit
+was flat, except for some rounded domes of mountains, and there the
+deadly cholla cactus grew--not in profusion, but enough to prove the
+dread of the Mexicans for this species of desert plant. It was a small
+bush, with cones like a pine cone in shape, growing in clusters, and
+over stems and cones were fine steel-pointed needles with invisible
+hooks at the ends.
+
+A barren, lonely prospect, that flat plateau above, an empire of the
+sun, where heat veils rose and mirages haunted the eye. But at sunset
+fog rolled up from the outer channel, and if the sun blasted the life on
+the island, the fog saved it. So there was war between sun and fog, the
+one that was the lord of day, and the other the dew-laden savior of
+night.
+
+South, on the windward side, opened a wide bay, Smugglers Cove by name,
+and it was infinitely more beautiful than its name. A great curve
+indented the league-long slope of island, at each end of which low,
+ragged lines of black rock jutted out into the sea. Around this immense
+bare amphitheater, which had no growth save scant cactus and patches of
+grass, could be seen long lines of shelves where the sea-levels had been
+in successive ages of the past.
+
+Near the middle of the curve, on a bleached bank, stood a lonely little
+hut, facing the sea. Old and weather-beaten, out of place there, it held
+and fascinated the gaze. Below it a white shore-line curved away where
+the waves rolled in, sadly grand, to break and spread on the beach.
+
+At the east end, where the jagged black rocks met the sea, I loved to
+watch a great swell rise out of the level blue, heave and come,
+slow-lifting as if from some infinite power, to grow and climb aloft
+till the blue turned green and sunlight showed through, and the long,
+smooth crest, where the seals rode, took on a sharp edge to send wisps
+of spray in the wind, and, rising sheer, the whole swell, solemn and
+ponderous and majestic, lifted its volume one beautiful instant, then
+curled its shining crest and rolled in and down with a thundering,
+booming roar, all the curves and contours gone in a green-white seething
+mass that climbed the reefs and dashed itself to ruin.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+An extraordinary achievement and record fell to my brother R. C. It was
+too much good luck ever to come my way. Fame is a fickle goddess. R. C.
+had no ambition to make a great catch of swordfish. He angles for these
+big game of the sea more to furnish company for me than for any other
+reason. He likes best the golden, rocky streams where the bronze-back
+black-bass hide, or the swift, amber-colored brooks full of rainbow
+trout.
+
+I must add that in my opinion, and Captain Danielson's also, R. C. is a
+superior angler, and all unconscious of it. He has not my intimate
+knowledge of big fish, but he did not seem to need that. He is powerful
+in the shoulders and arms, his hands are strong and hard from baseball
+and rowing, and he is practically tireless. He never rested while
+fighting a fish. We never saw him lean the rod on the gunwale. All of
+which accounts for his quick conquering of a Marlin swordfish. We have
+yet to see him work upon a broadbill or a big tuna; and that is
+something Captain Dan and I are anticipating with much pleasure and
+considerable doubt.
+
+August 31st dawned fine and cool and pleasant, rather hazy, with warm
+sun and smooth sea.
+
+The night before we had sat in front of our tents above the beach and
+watched the flying-fish come out in twos and threes and schools, all the
+way down the rugged coast. I told the captain then that swordfish were
+chasing them. But he was skeptical.
+
+This morning I remembered, and I was watching. Just at the Glory Hole my
+brother yelled, "Strike!" I did not see the fish before he hit the bait.
+It is really remarkable how these swordfish can get to a bait on the
+surface without being seen. R. C. hooked the Marlin.
+
+The first leap showed the fish to be small. He did not appear to be much
+of a jumper or fighter. He leaped six times, and then tried to swim out
+to sea. Slow, steady work of R. C.'s brought him up to the boat in
+fifteen minutes. But we did not gaff him. We estimated his weight at one
+hundred and thirty pounds. Captain Dan cut the leader close to the hook.
+I watched the fish swim lazily away, apparently unhurt, and sure to
+recover.
+
+We got going again, and had scarce trolled a hundred yards when I saw
+something my companions missed. I stood up.
+
+"Well, this starts out like your day," I remarked to my brother.
+
+Then he saw a purple shape weaving back of his bait and that galvanized
+him into attention. It always thrilled me to see a swordfish back of the
+bait. This one took hold and ran off to the right. When hooked it took
+line with a rush, began to thresh half out, and presently sounded. We
+lost the direction. It came up far ahead of the boat and began to leap
+and run on the surface.
+
+We followed while R. C. recovered the line. Then he held the fish well
+in hand; and in the short time of twelve minutes brought the leader to
+Dan's hand. The Marlin made a great splash as he was cut loose.
+
+"Say, two swordfish in less than half an hour!" I expostulated. "Dan,
+this might be _the_ day."
+
+Captain Dan looked hopeful. We were always looking for that day which
+came once or twice each season.
+
+"I'm tired," said my brother. "Now you catch a couple."
+
+He talked about swordfish as carelessly as he used to talk about
+sunfish. But he was not in the least tired. I made him take up the rod
+again. I sensed events. The sea looked darkly rippling, inviting, as if
+to lure us on.
+
+We had worked and drifted a little offshore. But that did not appear to
+put us out of the latitude of swordfish. Suddenly Captain Dan yelled,
+"Look out!" Then we all saw a blaze of purple back of R. C.'s bait. Dan
+threw out the clutch. But this Marlin was shy. He flashed back and
+forth. How swift! His motion was only a purple flash. He loomed up after
+the teasers. We had three of these flying-fish out as teasers, all close
+to the boat. I always wondered why the swordfish appear more attracted
+to the teasers than to our hooked baits only a few yards back. I made
+the mistake to pull the teasers away from this swordfish. Then he left
+us.
+
+I was convinced, however, that this was to be R. C.'s day, and so, much
+to his amaze and annoyance, I put away my rod. No sooner had I quit
+fishing than a big black tail showed a few yards out from R. C.'s bait.
+Then a shining streak shot across under the water, went behind R. C.'s
+bait, passed it, came again. This time I saw him plainly. He was big and
+hungry, but shy. He rushed the bait. I saw him take it in his pointed
+jaws and swerve out of sight, leaving a boil on the surface. R. C. did
+not give him time to swallow the hook, but struck immediately. The fish
+ran off two hundred yards and then burst up on the surface. He was a
+jumper, and as he stayed in sight we all began to yell our admiration.
+He cleared the water forty-two times, all in a very few minutes. At the
+end of twenty-eight minutes R. C., with a red face and a bulging jaw,
+had the swordfish beaten and within reach of Captain Dan.
+
+"He's a big one--over two hundred and fifty," asserted that worthy.
+"Mebbe you won't strike a bigger one."
+
+"Cut him loose," I said, and my brother echoed my wish.
+
+It was a great sight to see that splendid swordfish drift away from the
+boat--to watch him slowly discover that he was free.
+
+"Ten o'clock! We'll hang up two records to-day!" boomed Captain Dan,
+as with big, swift hands he put on another bait for R. C.
+
+ [Illustration: R. C. ON THE JOB]
+
+ [Illustration: 304 POUNDS]
+
+ [Illustration: R. C. GREY AND RECORD MARLIN]
+
+"Do you fellows take me for a drag-horse?" inquired R. C., mildly. "I've
+caught enough swordfish for this year."
+
+"Why, man, it's the day!" exclaimed Captain Dan, in amaze and fear.
+
+"Humph!" replied my brother.
+
+"But the chance for a record!" I added, weakly. "Only ten o'clock....
+Three swordfish already.... Great chance for Dan, you know.... Beat the
+dickens out of these other fishermen."
+
+"Aw, that's a lot of 'con'!" replied my brother.
+
+Very eloquently then I elaborated on the fact that we were releasing the
+fish, inaugurating a sportsman-like example never before done there;
+that it really bid fair to be a wonderful day; that I was having a great
+chance to snap pictures of leaping fish; that it would be a favor to me
+for him to go the limit on this one occasion.
+
+But R. C. showed no sign of wavering. He was right, of course, and I
+acknowledged that afterward to myself. On the instant, however, I racked
+my brain for some persuasive argument. Suddenly I had an inspiration.
+
+"They think you're a dub fisherman," I declared, forcefully.
+
+"_They?_" My brother glared darkly at me.
+
+"Sure," I replied, hurriedly, with no intention of explaining that
+dubious _they_. "Now's your chance to fool them."
+
+"Ahuh! All right, fetch on a flock of swordfish, and then some
+broadbills," remarked R. C., blandly. "Hurry, Dan! There's a fin right
+over there. Lead me to him! See."
+
+Sure enough, R. C. pointed out a dark sickle fin on the surface. I
+marveled at the sight. It certainly is funny the luck some fishermen
+have! Captain Dan, beaming like a sunrise, swung the boat around toward
+the swordfish.
+
+That Marlin rushed the teasers. I pulled all three away from him, while
+R. C. was reeling in his bait to get it close. Then the swordfish fell
+all over himself after it. He got it. He would have climbed aboard after
+it. The way R. C. hooked this swordfish showed that somebody had got his
+dander up and was out to do things. This pleased me immensely. It scared
+me a little, too, for R. C. showed no disposition to give line or be
+gentle to the swordfish. In fact, it was real fight now. And this
+particular fish appeared to have no show on earth--or rather in the
+water--and after fourteen leaps he was hauled up to the boat in such
+short order that if we had gaffed him, as we used to gaff Marlin, we
+would have had a desperate fight to hold him. But how easy to cut him
+free! He darted down like a blue streak. I had no fair sight of him to
+judge weight, but Captain Dan said he was good and heavy.
+
+"Come on! Don't be so slow!" yelled R. C., with a roving eye over the
+deep.
+
+Captain Dan was in his element. He saw victory perched upon the mast of
+the _Leta D._ He moved with a celerity that amazed me, when I remembered
+how exasperatingly slow he could be, fooling with kites. This was
+Captain Dan's game.
+
+"The ocean's alive with swordfish!" he boomed. Only twice before had I
+heard him say that, and he was right each time. I gazed abroad over the
+beautiful sea, and, though I could not see any swordfish, somehow I
+believed him. It was difficult now, in this exciting zest of a record
+feat, to think of the nobler attributes of fishing. Strong, earnest,
+thrilling business it was indeed for Captain Dan.
+
+We all expected to see a swordfish again. That was exactly what
+happened. We had not gone a dozen boat-lengths when up out of the blue
+depths lunged a lazy swordfish and attached himself to R. C.'s hook. He
+sort of half lolled out in lazy splashes four or five times. He looked
+huge. All of a sudden he started off, making the reel hum. That run
+developed swiftly. Dan backed the boat full speed. In vain! It was too
+late to turn. That swordfish run became the swiftest and hardest I ever
+saw. A four-hundred-yard run, all at once, was something new even for
+me. I yelled for R. C. to throw off the drag. He tried, but failed. I
+doubted afterward if that would have done any good. That swordfish was
+going away from there. He broke the line.
+
+"Gee! What a run!" I burst out. "I'm sorry. I hate to break off hooks in
+fish."
+
+"Put your hand on my reel," said R. C.
+
+It was almost too hot to bear touching. R. C. began winding in the long
+slack line.
+
+"Did you see that one?" he asked, grimly.
+
+"Not plain. But what I did see looked big."
+
+"Say, he was a whale!" R. C.'s flashing eyes showed he had warmed to the
+battle.
+
+In just ten minutes another swordfish was chasing the teasers. It was
+my thrilling task to keep them away from him. Hard as I pulled, I failed
+to keep at least one of them from him. He took it with a "wop," his bill
+half out of the water, and as he turned with a splash R. C. had his bait
+right there. Smash! The swordfish sheered off, with the bait shining
+white in his bill. When hooked he broke water about fifty yards out and
+then gave an exhibition of high and lofty tumbling, water-smashing, and
+spray-flinging that delighted us. Then he took to long, greyhound leaps
+and we had to chase him. But he did not last long, with the inexorable
+R. C. bending back on that Murphy rod. After being cut free, this
+swordfish lay on the surface a few moments, acting as if he was out of
+breath. He weighed about one hundred and fifty, and was a particularly
+beautiful specimen. The hook showed in the corner of his mouth. He did
+not have a scratch on his graceful bronze and purple and silver body. I
+waved my hat at him and then he slowly sank.
+
+"What next?" I demanded. "This can't keep up. Something is going to
+happen."
+
+But my apprehension in no wise disturbed R. C. or Captain Dan.
+
+They proceeded to bait up again, to put out the teasers, to begin to
+troll; and then almost at once a greedy swordfish appeared, absolutely
+fearless and determined. R. C. hooked him. The first leap showed the
+Marlin to be the smallest of the day so far. But what he lacked in
+weight he made up in activity. He was a great performer, and his forte
+appeared to be turning upside down in the air. He leaped clear
+twenty-two times. Then he settled down and tried to plug out to sea.
+Alas! that human steam-winch at the rod drew him right up to the boat,
+where he looked to weigh about one hundred and twenty-five pounds.
+
+ [Illustration: 328-POUND RECORD MARLIN BY R. C. GREY. SHAPELIEST AND
+ MOST BEAUTIFUL SPECIMEN EVER TAKEN]
+
+ [Illustration: SUNSET OVER CLEMENTE CHANNEL]
+
+"Six!" I exclaimed, as we watched the freed fish swim away. "That's the
+record.... And all let go alive--unhurt.... Do you suppose any one will
+believe us?"
+
+"It doesn't make any difference," remarked my brother. "We know. That's
+the best of the game--letting the fish go alive."
+
+"Come on!" boomed Dan, with a big flying-fish in his hands. "You're not
+tired."
+
+"Yes, I am tired," replied R. C.
+
+"It's early yet," I put in. "We'll cinch the record for good. Grab the
+rod. I'll enjoy the work for you."
+
+R. C. resigned himself, not without some remarks anent the insatiable
+nature of his host and boatman.
+
+We were now off the east end of Clemente Island, that bleak and ragged
+corner where the sea, whether calm or stormy, contended eternally with
+the black rocks, and where the green and white movement of waves was
+never still. When almost two hundred yards off the yellow kelp-beds I
+saw a shadow darker than the blue water. It seemed to follow the boat,
+rather deep down and far back. But it moved. I was on my feet,
+thrilling.
+
+"That's a swordfish!" I called.
+
+"No," replied R. C.
+
+"Some wavin' kelp, mebbe," added Dan, doubtfully.
+
+"Slow up a little," I returned. "I see purple."
+
+Captain Dan complied and we all watched. We all saw an enormous colorful
+body loom up, take the shape of a fish, come back of R. C.'s bait, hit
+it and take it.
+
+"By George!" breathed R. C., tensely. His line slowly slipped out a
+little, then stopped.
+
+"He's let go," said my brother.
+
+"There's another one," cried Dan.
+
+With that I saw what appeared to be another swordfish, deeper down,
+moving slowly. This one also looked huge to me. He was right under the
+teasers. It dawned upon me that he must have an eye on them, so I began
+to pull them in.
+
+As they came in the purple shadow seemed to rise. It was a swordfish and
+he resembled a gunboat with purple outriggers. Slowly he came onward and
+upward, a wonderful sight.
+
+"Wind your bait in!" I yelled to R. C.
+
+Suddenly Dan became like a jumping-jack. "He's got your hook," he
+shouted to my brother. "He's had it all the time."
+
+The swordfish swam now right under the stern of the boat so that I could
+look down upon him. He was deep down, but not too deep to look huge.
+Then I saw R. C.'s leader in his mouth. He had swallowed the flying-fish
+bait and had followed us for the teasers. The fact was stunning. R. C.,
+who had been winding in, soon found out that his line went straight
+down. He felt the fish. Then with all his might he jerked to hook that
+swordfish.
+
+Just then, for an instant my mind refused to work swiftly. It was locked
+round some sense of awful expectancy. I remembered my camera in my
+hands and pointed it where I expected something wonderful about to
+happen.
+
+The water on the right, close to the stern, bulged and burst with a
+roar. Upward even with us, above us, shot a tremendously large, shiny
+fish, shaking and wagging, with heavy slap of gills.
+
+Water deluged the boat, but missed me. I actually smelled that fish, he
+was so close. What must surely have been terror for me, had I actually
+seen and realized the peril, gave place to flashing thought of the one
+and great chance for a wonderful picture of a big swordfish close to the
+boat. That gripped me. While I changed the focus on my camera I missed
+seeing the next two jumps. But I heard the heavy sousing splashes and
+the yells of Dan and R. C., with the shrill screams of the ladies.
+
+When I did look up to try to photograph the next leap of the swordfish I
+saw him, close at hand, monstrous and animated, in a surging,
+up-sweeping splash. I heard the hiss of the boiling foam. He lunged
+away, churning the water like a sudden whirl of a ferryboat wheel, and
+then he turned squarely at us. Even then Captain Dan's yell did not warn
+us. I felt rather than saw that he had put on full speed ahead. The
+swordfish dove toward us, went under, came up in a two-sheeted white
+splash, and rose high and higher, to fall with a cracking sound. Like a
+flash of light he shot up again, and began wagging his huge
+purple-barred body, lifting himself still higher, until all but his tail
+stood ponderously above the surface; and then, incredibly powerful, he
+wagged and lashed upright in a sea of hissing foam, mouth open wide,
+blood streaming down his wet sides and flying in red spray from his
+slapping gills--a wonderful and hair-raising spectacle. He stayed up
+only what seemed a moment. During this action and when he began again to
+leap and smash toward us, I snapped my camera three times upon him. But
+I missed seeing some of his greatest leaps because I had to look at the
+camera while operating it.
+
+"Get back!" yelled Dan, hoarsely.
+
+I was so excited I did not see the danger of the swordfish coming
+aboard. But Captain Dan did. He swept the girls back into the cabin
+doorway, and pushed Mrs. R. C. into a back corner of the cockpit.
+Strange it seemed to me how pale Dan was!
+
+The swordfish made long, swift leaps right at the boat. On the last he
+hit us on the stern, but too low to come aboard. Six feet closer to us
+would have landed that huge, maddened swordfish right in the cockpit!
+But he thumped back, and the roar of his mighty tail on the water so
+close suddenly appalled me. I seemed to grasp how near he had come
+aboard at the same instant that I associated the power of his tail with
+a havoc he would have executed in the boat. It flashed over me that he
+would weigh far over three hundred.
+
+When he thumped back the water rose in a sounding splash, deluging us
+and leaving six inches in the cockpit. He sheered off astern, sliding
+over the water in two streaks of white running spray, and then up he
+rose again in a magnificent wild leap. He appeared maddened with pain
+and fright and instinct to preserve his life.
+
+Again the fish turned right at us. This instant was the most
+terrifying. Not a word from R. C.! But out of the tail of my eye I saw
+him crouch, ready to leap. He grimly held on to his rod, but there had
+not been a tight line on it since he struck the fish.
+
+Yelling warningly, Captain Dan threw the wheel hard over. But that
+seemed of no use. We could not lose the swordfish.
+
+He made two dives into the air, and the next one missed us by a yard,
+and showed his great, glistening, striped body, thick as a barrel, and
+curved with terrible speed and power, right alongside the cockpit. He
+passed us, and as the boat answered to the wheel and turned, almost at
+right angles, the swordfish sheered too, and he hit us a sounding thud
+somewhere foreward. Then he went under or around the bow and began to
+take line off the reel for the first time. I gave him up. The line
+caught all along the side of the boat. But it did not break, and kept
+whizzing off the reel. I heard the heavy splash of another jump. When we
+had turned clear round, what was our amaze and terror to see the
+swordfish, seemingly more tigerish than ever, thresh and tear and leap
+at us again. He was flinging bloody spray and wigwagging his huge body,
+so that there was a deep, rough splashing furrow in the sea behind him.
+I had never known any other fish so fast, so powerful, so wild with
+fury, so instinct with tremendous energy and life. Dan again threw all
+his weight on the wheel. The helm answered, the boat swung, and the
+swordfish missed hitting us square. But he glanced along the port side,
+like a toboggan down-hill, and he seemed to ricochet over the water. His
+tail made deep, solid thumps. Then about a hundred feet astern he
+turned in his own length, making a maelstrom of green splash and white
+spray, out of which he rose three-quarters of his huge body,
+purple-blazed, tiger-striped, spear-pointed, and, with the sea boiling
+white around him, he spun around, creating an indescribable picture of
+untamed ferocity and wild life and incomparable beauty. Then down he
+splashed with a sullen roar, leaving a red foam on the white.
+
+That appeared the end of his pyrotechnics. It had been only a few
+moments. He began to swim off slowly and heavily. We followed. After a
+few tense moments it became evident that his terrible surface work had
+weakened him, probably bursting his gills, from which his life-blood
+escaped.
+
+We all breathed freer then. Captain Dan left the wheel, mopping his
+pale, wet face. He gazed at me to see if I had realized our peril. With
+the excitement over, I began to realize. I felt a little shaky then. The
+ladies were all talking at once, still glowing with excitement. Easy to
+see they had not appreciated the danger! But Captain Dan and I knew that
+if the swordfish had come aboard--which he certainly would have done had
+he ever slipped his head over the gunwale--there would have been a
+tragedy on the _Leta D._
+
+"I never knew just how easy it could happen," said Dan. "No one ever
+before hooked a big fish right under the boat."
+
+"With that weight, that tail, right after being hooked, he would have
+killed some of us and wrecked the boat!" I exclaimed, aghast.
+
+"Well, I had him figured to come into the boat and I was ready to jump
+overboard," added my brother.
+
+"We won't cut him loose," said Dan. "That's some fish. But he acts like
+he isn't goin' to last long."
+
+Still, it took two hours longer of persistent, final effort on the part
+of R. C. to bring this swordfish to gaff. We could not lift the fish up
+on the stern and we had to tow him over to Mr. Jump's boat and there
+haul him aboard by block and tackle. At Avalon he weighed three hundred
+and twenty-eight pounds.
+
+R. C. had caught the biggest Marlin in 1916--three hundred and four
+pounds, and this three-hundred-and-twenty-eight-pound fish was the
+largest for 1918. Besides, there was the remarkable achievement and
+record of seven swordfish in one day, with six of them freed to live and
+roam the sea again. But R. C. was not impressed. He looked at his hands
+and said:
+
+"You and Dan put a job up on me.... Never again!"
+
+
+
+
+XII
+
+RANDOM NOTES
+
+
+                         AVALON, _July 1, 1918_.
+
+Cool, foggy morning; calm sea up until one o'clock, then a west wind
+that roughened the water white. No strikes. Did not see a fish. Trolled
+with kite up to the Isthmus and back. When the sun came out its warmth
+was very pleasant. The slopes seemed good to look at--so steep and
+yellow-gray with green spots, and long slides running down to the shore.
+The tips of the hills were lost in the fog. It was lonely on the sea,
+and I began again to feel the splendor and comfort of the open spaces,
+the free winds, the canopy of gray and blue, the tidings from afar.
+
+                         _July 3d._
+
+Foggy morning; pale line of silver on eastern horizon; swell, but no
+wind. Warm. After a couple of hours fog disintegrated. Saw a big Marlin
+swordfish. Worked him three times, then charged him. No use!
+
+Gradually rising wind. Ran up off Long Point and back. At 3:30 was
+tired. We saw a school of tuna on the surface. Flew the kite over them.
+One big fellow came clear out on his side and got the hook. He made one
+long run, then came in rather easily. Time, fifteen minutes. He was
+badly hooked. Seventy-eight pounds.
+
+We trolled then until late afternoon. I saw some splashes far out. Tuna!
+We ran up. Found patches of anchovies. I had a strike. Tuna hooked
+himself and got off. We tried again. I had another come clear out in a
+smashing charge. He ran off heavy and fast. It took fifty minutes of
+very hard work to get him in. He weaved back of the boat for half an
+hour and gave me a severe battle. He was hooked in the corner of the
+mouth and was a game, fine fish. Seventy-three and one-half pounds.
+
+                         _July 6th._
+
+Started out early. Calm, cool, foggy morning; rather dark. Sea smooth,
+swelling, heaving. Mysterious, like a shadowed opal. Long mounds of
+water waved noiselessly, wonderfully, ethereally from the distance, and
+the air was hazy, veiled, and dim. A lonely, silent vastness.
+
+We saw several schools of tuna, but got no strikes. Worked a Marlin
+swordfish, but he would not notice the bait.
+
+It was a long, hard day on the sea.
+
+                         _July 10th._
+
+We got off at 6:30 before the other boats. Smooth water. Little breeze.
+Saw a school of tuna above Long Point. Put up the kite. The school went
+down. But R. C. got a little strike. Did not hook fish.
+
+Then we sighted a big school working east. We followed it, running into
+a light wind. Kite blew O. K. and R. C. got one fish (seventy-one
+pounds), then another (forty-eight pounds). They put up fair fights.
+
+Then I tried light tackle. All the time the school traveled east, going
+down and coming up. The first fish that charged my bait came clear out
+after it. He got it and rushed away. I had the light drag on, and I did
+not thumb the pad hard, but the tuna broke the line. We tried again. Had
+another thrilling strike. The fish threw the hook. We had to pull in the
+kite, put up another one--get it out, and all the time keep the school
+in sight. The tuna traveled fast. The third try on light tackle resulted
+in another fine strike, and another tuna that broke the line.
+
+Then R. C. tried the heavy tackle again, and lost a fish.
+
+When my turn came I was soon fast to a hard-fighting fish, but he did
+not stay with me long. This discouraged me greatly.
+
+Then R. C. took his rod once more. It was thrilling to run down on the
+school and skip a flying-fish before the leaders as they rolled along,
+fins out, silver sides showing, raising little swells and leaving a
+dark, winkling, dimpling wake behind them. When the bait got just right
+a larger tuna charged furiously, throwing up a great splash. He hit the
+bait, and threw the hook before R. C. could strike hard.
+
+We had nine bites out of this school. Followed it fifteen miles. Twice
+we were worried by other boats, but for the rest of the time had the
+school alone.
+
+                         _July 11th._
+
+Morning was cold, foggy, raw. East wind. Disagreeable. Trolled out about
+six miles and all around. Finally ran in off east end, where I caught a
+yellow-fin. The sun came up, but the east wind persisted. No fish. Came
+in early.
+
+                         _July 12th._
+
+Went out early. Clear morning. Cool. Rippling sea. Fog rolled down like
+a pale-gray wall. Misty, veiled, vague, strange, opaque, silent, wet,
+cold, heavy! It enveloped us. Then we went out of the bank into a great
+circle, clear and bright, with heaving, smooth sea, surrounded by fog.
+
+After an hour or two the fog rose and drifted away.
+
+We trolled nine hours. Three little fish struck at the bait, but did not
+get the hook.
+
+                         _August 6th._
+
+To-day I went out alone with Dan. Wonderful sea. Very long, wide, deep,
+heaving swells, beautiful and exhilarating to watch. No wind. Not very
+foggy. Sunshine now and then. I watched the sea--marveled at its grace,
+softness, dimpled dark beauty, its vast, imponderable racing, its
+restless heaving, its eternal motion. I learned from it. I found
+loneliness, peace.
+
+Saw a great school of porpoises coming. Ran toward them. About five
+hundred all crashing in and out of the great swells, making a spectacle
+of rare sea action and color and beauty. They surrounded the bow of the
+boat, and then pandemonium broke loose. They turned to play with us,
+racing, diving, leaping, shooting--all for our delight. I stood right
+up on the bow and could see deep. It was an unforgetable experience.
+
+                         _August 7th._
+
+Long run to-day, over eighty miles. East to Point Vincent, west to end
+of Catalina, then all around. Fine sea and weather. Just right for kite.
+Saw many ducks and a great number of big sharks. The ducks were
+traveling west, the sharks east. We saw no tuna.
+
+Coming back the wind sprang up and we had a following sea. It was fine
+to watch the green-and-white rollers breaking behind us.
+
+The tuna appear to be working farther and farther off the east end.
+Marlin swordfish have showed up off the east end. Three caught yesterday
+and one to-day. I have not yet seen a broadbill, and fear none are
+coming this year.
+
+                         _August 8th._
+
+Went off east end. Had a Marlin strike. The fish missed the hook. A
+shark took the bait. When it was pulled in to the gaff Captain Dan
+caught the leader, drew the shark up, and it savagely bit the boat. Then
+it gave a flop and snapped Captain Dan's hand.
+
+I was frightened. The captain yelled for me to hit the shark with a
+club. I did not lose a second. The shark let go. We killed it, and found
+Dan's hand badly lacerated. My swiftness of action saved Dan's hand.
+
+
+
+
+XII
+
+BIG TUNA
+
+
+It took me five seasons at Catalina to catch a big tuna, and the event
+was so thrilling that I had to write to my fisherman friends about it.
+The result of my effusions seem rather dubious. Robert H. Davis, editor
+of _Munsey's_, replies in this wise: "If you went out with a
+mosquito-net to catch a mess of minnows your story would read like Roman
+gladiators seining the Tigris for whales." Now, I am at a loss to know
+how to take that compliment. Davis goes on to say more, and he also
+quotes me: "You say 'the hard, diving fight of a tuna liberates the
+brute instinct in a man.' Well, Zane, it also liberates the qualities of
+a liar!" Davis does not love the sweet, soft scent that breathes from
+off the sea. Once on the Jersey coast I went tuna-fishing with him. He
+was not happy on the boat. But once he came up out of the cabin with a
+jaunty feather in his hat. I admired it. I said:
+
+"Bob, I'll have to get something like that for my hat."
+
+"Zane," he replied, piercingly, "what you need for your hat is a head!"
+
+My friend Joe Bray, who publishes books in Chicago, also reacts
+peculiarly to my fish stories. He writes me a satiric, doubting
+letter--then shuts up his office and rushes for some river or lake.
+Will Dilg, the famous fly-caster, upon receipt of my communication,
+wrote me a nine-page prose-poem epic about the only fish in the
+world--black-bass. Professor Kellogg always falls ill and takes a
+vacation, during which he writes me that I have not mental capacity to
+appreciate my luck.
+
+These fellows will illustrate how my friends receive angling news from
+me. I ought to have sense enough to keep my stories for publication. I
+strongly suspect that their strange reaction to my friendly feeling is
+because I have caught more and larger black-bass than they ever saw.
+Some day I will go back to the swift streams and deep lakes, where the
+bronze-backs live, and fish with my friends, and then they will realize
+that I never lie about the sport and beauty and wonder of the great
+outdoors.
+
+Every season for the five years that I have been visiting Avalon there
+has been a run of tuna. But the average weight was from sixty to
+ninety-five pounds. Until this season only a very few big tuna had been
+taken. The prestige of the Tuna Club, the bragging of the old members,
+the gossip of the boatmen--all tend to make a fisherman feel small until
+he has landed a big one. Come to think of it, considering the years of
+the Tuna Club fame, not so very many anglers have captured a blue-button
+tuna. I vowed I did not care in particular about it, but whenever we ran
+across a school of tuna I acted like a boy.
+
+A good many tuna fell to my rod during these seasons. During the
+present season, to be exact, I caught twenty-two. This is no large
+number for two months' fishing. Boschen caught about one hundred; Jump,
+eighty-four; Hooper, sixty. Among these tuna I fought were three that
+stand out strikingly. One seventy-three-pounder took fifty minutes of
+hard fighting to subdue; a ninety-one-pounder took one hour fifty; and
+the third, after two hours and fifty minutes, got away. It seems, and
+was proved later, that the number fifty figured every time I hooked one
+of the long, slim, hard-fighting male tuna.
+
+Beginning late in June, for six weeks tuna were caught almost every day,
+some days a large number being taken. But big ones were scarce. Then one
+of the Tuna Club anglers began to bring in tuna that weighed well over
+one hundred pounds. This fact inspired all the anglers. He would slip
+out early in the morning and return late at night. Nobody knew where his
+boatman was finding these fish. More than one boatman tried to follow
+him, but in vain. Quite by accident it was discovered that he ran up on
+the north side of the island, clear round the west end. When he was
+discovered on the west side he at once steered toward Clemente Island,
+evidently hoping to mislead his followers. This might have succeeded but
+for the fact that both Bandini and Adams hooked big tuna before they had
+gone a mile. Then the jig was up. That night Adams came in with a
+one-hundred-and-twenty-and a one-hundred-and-thirty-six-pound tuna, and
+Bandini brought the record for this season--one hundred and forty-nine
+pounds.
+
+Next day we were all out there on the west side, a few miles offshore.
+The ocean appeared to be full of blackfish. They are huge, black marine
+creatures, similar to a porpoise in movement, but many times larger, and
+they have round, blunt noses that look like battering-rams. Some seemed
+as big as gunboats, and when they heaved up on the swells we could see
+the white stripes below the black. I was inclined to the belief that
+this species was the orca, a whale-killing fish. Boatmen and deep-sea
+men report these blackfish to be dangerous and had better be left alone.
+They certainly looked ugly. We believed they were chasing tuna.
+
+The channel that day contained more whales than I ever saw before at one
+time. We counted six pairs in sight. I saw as many as four of the
+funnel-like whale spouts of water on the horizon at once. It was very
+interesting to watch these monsters of the deep. Once when we were all
+on top of the boat we ran almost right upon two whales. The first
+spouted about fifty feet away. The sea seemed to open up, a terrible
+roar issued forth, then came a cloud of spray and rush of water. Then we
+saw another whale just rising a few yards ahead. My hair stood up stiff.
+Captain Dan yelled, leaped down to reverse the engine. The whale saw us
+and swerved. Dan's action and the quickness of the whale prevented a
+collision. As it was, I looked down in the clear water and saw the huge,
+gleaming, gray body of the whale as he passed. That was another sight to
+record in the book of memory. The great flukes of his tail moved with
+surprising swiftness and the water bulged on the surface. Then we ran
+close to the neighborhood of a school of whales, evidently feeding. They
+would come up and blow, and then sound. To see a whale sound and then
+raise his great, broad, shining flukes in the air, high above the water,
+is in my opinion the most beautiful spectacle to be encountered upon the
+ocean. Up to this day, during five seasons, I had seen three whales
+sound with tails in the air. And upon this occasion I had the exceeding
+good fortune to see seven. I tried to photograph one. We followed a big
+bull. When he came up to blow we saw a yellow moving space on the water,
+then a round, gray, glistening surface, then a rugged snout. Puff! His
+blow was a roar. He rolled on, downward a little; the water surged white
+and green. When he came up to sound he humped his huge back. It was
+shiny, leathery, wonderfully supple. It bent higher and higher in an
+arch. Then this great curve seemed to slide swiftly out of sight and his
+wonderful tail, flat as a floor and wide as a house, emerged to swing
+aloft. The water ran off it in sheets. Then it waved higher, and with
+slow, graceful, ponderous motion sank into the sea. That sight more than
+anything impressed me with the immensity of the ocean, with its mystery
+of life, with the unattainable secrets of the deep.
+
+The tuna appeared to be scattered, and none were on the surface. I had
+one strike that plowed up the sea, showing the difference between the
+strike of a big tuna and that of a little one. He broke my line on the
+first rush. Then I hooked another and managed to stop him. I had a
+grueling battle with him, and at the end of two hours and fifty minutes
+he broke my hook. This was a disappointment far beyond reason, but I
+could not help it.
+
+Next day was windy. The one following we could not find the fish, and
+the third day we all concluded they had gone for 1918. I think the fame
+of tuna, the uncertainty of their appearance, the difficulty of
+capturing a big one, are what excite the ambition of anglers. Long
+effort to that end, and consequent thinking and planning and feeling,
+bring about a condition of mind that will be made clear as this story
+progresses.
+
+But Captain Danielson did not give up. The fifth day we ran off the west
+side with several other boats, and roamed the sea in search of fins. No
+anchovies on the surface, no sheerwater ducks, no sharks, nothing to
+indicate tuna. About one o'clock Captain Dan sheered southwest and we
+ran sixteen miles toward Clemente Island.
+
+It was a perfect day, warm, hazy, with light fog, smooth, heaving,
+opalescent sea. There was no wind. At two thirty not one of the other
+boats was in sight. At two forty Captain Dan sighted a large, dark,
+rippling patch on the water. We ran over closer.
+
+"School of tuna!" exclaimed the captain, with excitement. "Big fish! Oh,
+for some wind now to fly the kite!"
+
+"There's another school," said my brother, R. C., and he pointed to a
+second darkly gleaming spot on the smooth sea.
+
+"I've spotted one, too!" I shouted.
+
+"The ocean's alive with tuna--big tuna!" boomed Captain Dan. "Here we
+are alone, blue-button fish everywhere--and no wind."
+
+"We'll watch the fish and wait for wind," I said.
+
+This situation may not present anything remarkable to most fishermen.
+But we who knew the game realized at once that this was an experience of
+a lifetime. We counted ten schools of tuna near at hand, and there were
+so many farther on that they seemed to cover the sea.
+
+"Boys," said Captain Dan, "here's the tuna we heard were at Anacapa
+Island last week. The Japs netted hundreds of tons. They're working
+southeast, right in the middle of the channel, and haven't been inshore
+at all. It's ninety miles to Anacapa. Some traveling!... That school
+close to us is the biggest school I ever saw and I believe they're the
+biggest fish."
+
+"Run closer to them," I said to him.
+
+We ran over within fifty feet of the edge of the school, stopped the
+boat, and all climbed up on top of the deck.
+
+Then we beheld a spectacle calculated to thrill the most phlegmatic
+fisherman. It simply enraptured me, and I think I am still too close to
+it to describe it well. The dark-blue water, heaving in great, low, lazy
+swells, showed a roughened spot of perhaps two acres in extent. The sun,
+shining over our shoulders, caught silvery-green gleams of fish,
+flashing wide and changing to blue. Long, round, bronze backs deep under
+the surface, caught the sunlight. Blue fins and tails, sharp and curved,
+like sabers, cleared the water. Here a huge tuna would turn on his side,
+gleaming broad and bright, and there another would roll on the surface,
+breaking water like a tarpon with a slow, heavy souse.
+
+"Look at the leaders," said Captain Dan. "I'll bet they're
+three-hundred-pound fish."
+
+I saw then that the school, lazy as they seemed, were slowly following
+the leaders, rolling and riding the swells. These leaders threw up
+surges and ridges on the surface. They plowed the water.
+
+"What'd happen if we skipped a flying-fish across the water in front of
+those leaders?" I asked Captain Dan.
+
+He threw up his hands. "You'd see a German torpedo explode."
+
+"Say! tuna are no relation to Huns!" put in my brother.
+
+It took only a few moments for the school to drift by us. Then we ran
+over to another school, with the same experience. In this way we visited
+several of these near-by schools, all of which were composed of large
+tuna. Captain Dan, however, said he believed the first two schools,
+evidently leaders of this vast sea of tuna, contained the largest fish.
+For half an hour we fooled around, watching the schools and praying for
+wind to fly the kite. Captain Dan finally trolled our baits through one
+school, which sank without rewarding us with a strike.
+
+At this juncture I saw a tiny speck of a boat way out on the horizon.
+Captain Dan said it was Shorty's boat with Adams. I suggested that, as
+we had to wait for wind to fly the kite, we run in and attract Shorty's
+attention. I certainly wanted some one else to see those magnificent
+schools of tuna. Forthwith we ran in several miles until we attracted
+the attention of the boatman Captain Dan had taken to be Shorty. But it
+turned out to be somebody else, and my good intentions also turned out
+to my misfortune.
+
+Then we ran back toward the schools of tuna. On the way my brother
+hooked a Marlin swordfish that leaped thirty-five times and got away.
+After all those leaps he deserved to shake the hook. We found the tuna
+milling and lolling around, slowly drifting and heading toward the
+southeast. We also found a very light breeze had begun to come out of
+the west. Captain Dan wanted to try to get the kite up, but I objected
+on the score that if we could fly it at all it would only be to drag a
+bait behind the boat. That would necessitate running through the schools
+of tuna, and as I believed this would put them down, I wanted to wait
+for enough wind to drag a bait at right angles with the boat. This is
+the proper procedure, because it enables an angler to place his bait
+over a school of tuna at a hundred yards or more from the boat. It
+certainly is the most beautiful and thrilling way to get a strike.
+
+So we waited. The boatman whose attention we had attracted had now come
+up and was approaching the schools of tuna some distance below us. He
+put out a kite that just barely flew off the water and it followed
+directly in the wake of his boat. We watched this with disgust, but
+considerable interest, and we were amazed to see one of the anglers in
+that boat get a strike and hook a fish.
+
+That put us all in a blaze of excitement. Still we thought the strike
+they got might just have been lucky. In running down farther, so we
+could come back against the light breeze, we ran pretty close to the
+school out of which the strike had been gotten. Captain Dan stood up to
+take a good look.
+
+"They're hundred-pounders, all right," he said. "But they're not as big
+as the tuna in those two leading schools. I'm glad those ginks in that
+boat are tied up with a tuna for a spell."
+
+I took a look at the fisherman who was fighting the tuna. Certainly I
+did not begrudge him one, but somehow, so strange are the feelings of a
+fisherman that I was mightily pleased to see that he was a novice at the
+game, was having his troubles, and would no doubt be a long, long time
+landing his tuna. My blood ran cold at the thought of other anglers
+appearing on the scene, and anxiously I scanned the horizon. No boat in
+sight! If I had only known then what sad experience taught me that
+afternoon I would have been tickled to pieces to see all the great
+fishermen of Avalon tackle this school of big tuna.
+
+Captain Dan got a kite up a little better than I had hoped for. It was
+not good, but it was worth trying. My bait, even on a turn of the boat,
+skipped along just at the edge of the wake of the boat. And the wake of
+a boat will almost always put a school of tuna down.
+
+We headed for the second school. My thrilling expectancy was tinged and
+spoiled with doubt. I skipped my bait in imitation of a flying-fish
+leaping and splashing along. We reached the outer edge of the school.
+Slowly the little boils smoothed out. Slowly the big fins sank. So did
+my heart. We passed the school. They all sank. And then when Captain Dan
+swore and I gave up there came a great splash back of my bait. I yelled
+and my comrades echoed me. The tuna missed. I skipped the bait. A
+sousing splash--and another tuna had my bait. My line sagged. I jerked
+hard. But too late! The tuna threw the hook before it got a hold.
+
+"They're hungry!" exclaimed Dan. "Hurry--reel the kite in. We'll get
+another bait on quick.... Look! that school is coming up again! They're
+not shy of boats. Boys, there's something doing."
+
+Captain Dan's excitement augmented my own. I sensed an unusual
+experience that had never before befallen me.
+
+The school of largest fish was farther to the west. The breeze lulled.
+We could not fly the kite except with the motion and direction of the
+boat. It was exasperating. When we got close the kite flopped down into
+the water. Captain Dan used language. We ran back, picked up the kite.
+It was soaked, of course, and would not fly. While Dan got out a new
+kite, a large silk one which we had not tried yet, we ran down to the
+eastward of the second school. To our surprise and delight this untried
+kite flew well without almost any wind.
+
+We got in position and headed for the school. I was using a big hook
+half embedded near the tail of the flying-fish and the leader ran
+through the bait. It worked beautifully. A little jerk of my rod sent
+the bait skittering over the water, for all the world like a live
+flying-fish. I knew now that I would get another strike. Just as we
+reached a point almost opposite the school of tuna they headed across
+our bow, so that it seemed inevitable we must either run them down or
+run too close. My spirit sank to zero. Something presaged bad luck. I
+sensed disaster. I fought the feeling, but it persisted. Captain Dan
+swore. My brother shouted warnings from over us where he sat on top. But
+we ran right into the leaders. The school sank. I was sick and furious.
+
+"Jump your bait! It's not too late," called Dan.
+
+I did so. Smash! The water seemed to curl white and smoke. A tuna had my
+bait. I jerked. I felt him. He threw the hook. Half the bait remained
+upon it. Smash! A great boil and splash! Another tuna had that. I tried
+to jerk. But both kite and tuna pulling made my effort feeble. This one
+also threw out the hook. It came out with a small piece of mangled red
+flying-fish still hanging to it. Instinctively I jumped that remains of
+my bait over the surface. Smash! The third tuna cleaned the hook.
+
+Captain Dan waxed eloquent and profane.
+
+My brother said, "What do you know about that?"
+
+As for myself, I was stunned one second and dazzled the next. Three
+strikes on one bait! It seemed disaster still clogged my mind, but what
+had already happened was new and wonderful. Half a mile below us I saw
+the angler still fighting the tuna he had hooked. I wanted him to get
+it, but I hoped he would be all afternoon on the job.
+
+"Hurry, Cap!" was all I said.
+
+Ordinarily Dan is the swiftest of boatmen. To-day he was slower than
+molasses and all he did went wrong. What he said about the luck was more
+than melancholy. I had no way to gauge my own feelings because I had
+never had such an experience before. Nor had I ever heard or read of any
+one having it.
+
+We got a bait on and the kite out just in time to reach the first and
+larger school. I was so excited that I did not see we were heading right
+into it. My intent gaze was riveted upon my bait as it skimmed the
+surface. The swells were long, low, smooth mounds. My bait went out of
+sight behind one. It was then I saw water fly high and I felt a tug. I
+jerked so hard I nearly fell over. My bait shot over the top of the
+swell. Then that swell opened and burst--a bronze back appeared. He
+missed the hook. Another tuna, also missing, leaped into the air--a fish
+of one hundred and fifty pounds, glittering green and silver and blue,
+jaws open, fins stiff, tail quivering, clear and clean-cut above the
+surface. Again we all yelled. Actually before he fell there was another
+smash and another tuna had my bait. This one I hooked. His rush was
+irresistible. I released the drag on the reel. It whirled and whizzed.
+The line threw a fine spray into my face. Then the tip of my rod flew up
+with a jerk, the line slacked. We all knew what that meant. I reeled in.
+The line had broken above the few feet of double line which we always
+used next the leader. More than ever disaster loomed over me. The
+feeling was unshakable now.
+
+Nevertheless, I realized that wonderful good fortune attended us in the
+fact that the school of big tuna had scarcely any noticeable fear of the
+boat; they would not stay down, and they were ravenous.
+
+On our next run down upon them I had a smashing strike. The tuna threw
+the hook. Another got the bait and I hooked him. He sounded. The line
+broke. We tried again. No sooner had we reached the school when the
+water boiled and foamed at my bait. Before I could move that tuna
+cleaned the hook. Our next attempt gained another sousing strike. But he
+was so swift and I was so slow that I could not fasten to him.
+
+"He went away from here," my brother said, with what he meant for
+comedy. But it was not funny.
+
+Captain Dan then put on a double hook, embedding it so one hook stood
+clear of the bait. We tested my line with the scales and it broke at
+fifty-three pounds, which meant it was a good strong line. The breeze
+lulled and fanned at intervals. It seemed, however, we did not need any
+breeze. We had edged our school of big tuna away from the other schools,
+and it was milling on the surface, lazily and indifferently. But what
+latent speed and power lay hidden in that mass of lolling tuna.
+
+R. C. from his perch above yelled: "Look out! You're going to drag your
+bait in front of the leaders this time!"
+
+That had not happened yet. I glowed in spite of the fact that I was
+steeped in gloom. We were indeed heading most favorably for the leaders.
+Captain Dan groaned. "Never seen the like of this!" he added. These
+leaders were several yards apart, as could be told by the blunt-nosed
+ridges of water they shoved ahead of them. That was another moment added
+to the memorable moments of my fishing years. It was strained suspense.
+Hope would not die, but disaster loomed like a shadow.
+
+Before I was ready, before we expected anything, before we got near
+these leaders, a brilliant, hissing, white splash burst out of the sea,
+and a tuna of magnificent proportions shot broadside along and above the
+surface, sending the spray aloft, and he hit that bait with incredible
+swiftness, raising a twenty-foot-square, furious splash as he hooked
+himself. I sat spellbound. I heard my line whistling off the reel. But I
+saw only that swift-descending kite. So swiftly did the tuna sound that
+the kite shot down as if it had been dropping lead. My line broke and my
+rod almost leaped out of my hands.
+
+We were all silent a moment. The school of tuna showed again, puttering
+and fiddling around, with great blue-and-green flashes caught by the
+sun.
+
+"That one weighed about two hundred and fifty," was all Captain Dan
+said.
+
+R. C. remarked facetiously, evidently to cheer me, "Jakey, you picks de
+shots out of that plue jay an' we makes ready for anudder one!"
+
+"Say, do you imagine you can make me laugh!" I asked, in tragic scorn.
+
+"Well, if you could have seen yourself when that tuna struck you'd have
+laughed," replied he.
+
+While Dan steered the boat R. C. got out on the bow and gaffed the kite.
+I watched the tuna tails standing like half-simitars out of the smooth,
+colored water. The sun was setting in a golden haze spotted by pink
+clouds. The wind, if anything, was softer than ever; in fact, we could
+not feel it unless we headed the boat into it. The fellow below us was
+drifting off farther, still plugging at his tuna.
+
+Captain Dan put the wet kite on the deck to dry and got out another
+silk one. It soared aloft so easily that I imagined our luck was
+changing. Vain fisherman's delusion! Nothing could do that. There were
+thousands of tons--actually thousands of tons of tuna in that three-mile
+stretch of ruffled water, but I could not catch one. It was a settled
+conviction. I was reminded of what Enos, the Portuguese boatman,
+complained to an angler he had out, "You mos' unluck' fisherman I ever
+see!"
+
+We tried a shorter kite-line and a shorter length of my line, and we ran
+down upon that mess of tuna once more. It was strange--and foolish--how
+we stuck to that school of biggest fish. This time Dan headed right into
+the thick of them. Out of the corners of my eyes I seemed to see tuna
+settling down all around. Suddenly my brother yelled.
+
+Zam! That was a huge loud splash back of my bait. The tuna missed. R. C.
+yelled again. Captain Dan followed suit:
+
+"He's after it!... Oh, he's the biggest yet!"
+
+Then I saw a huge tuna wallowing in a surge round my bait. He heaved up,
+round and big as a barrel, flashing a wide bar of blue-green, and he got
+the hook. If he had been strangely slow he was now unbelievably swift.
+His size gave me panic. I never moved, and he hooked himself. Straight
+down he shot and the line broke.
+
+My brother's sympathy now was as sincere as Captain Dan's misery. I
+asked R. C. to take the rod and see if he could do better.
+
+"Not much!" he replied. "When you get one, then I'll try. Stay with 'em,
+now!"
+
+Not improbably I would have stayed out until the tuna quit if that had
+taken all night. Three more times we put up the kite--three more
+flying-fish we wired on the double hooks--three more runs we made
+through that tantalizing school of tuna that grew huger and swifter and
+more impossible--three more smashing wide breaks of water on the
+strike--and quicker than a flash three more broken lines!
+
+I imagined I was resigned. My words to my silent comrades were even
+cheerful.
+
+"Come on. Try again. Where there's life there's hope. It's an
+exceedingly rare experience--anyway. After all, nothing depends upon my
+catching one of these tuna. It doesn't matter."
+
+All of which attested to the singular state of my mind.
+
+Another kite, another leader and double hook, another bait had to be
+arranged. This took time. My impatience, my nervousness were hard to
+restrain. Captain Dan was pale and grim. I do not know how I looked.
+Only R. C. no longer looked at me.
+
+As we put out the bait we made the discovery that the other anglers, no
+doubt having ended their fight, were running down upon our particular
+school of tuna. This was in line with our luck. Other schools of tuna
+were in sight, but these fellows had to head for ours. It galled me when
+I thought how sportsman-like I had been to attract their attention. We
+aimed to head them off and reach the school first. As we were the
+closest all augured well for our success. But gloom invested whatever
+hopes I had.
+
+We beat the other boat. We had just gotten our boat opposite the school
+of tuna when Dan yelled: "Look out for that bunch of kelp! Jump your
+bait over it!"
+
+Then I spied the mass of floating seaweed. I knew absolutely that my
+hook was going to snag it. But I tried to be careful, quick, accurate. I
+jumped my bait. It fell short. The hook caught fast in the kelp. In the
+last piece! The kite fluttered like a bird with broken wings and
+dropped. Captain Dan reversed the boat. Then he burst out. Now Dan was a
+big man and he had a stentorian voice, deep like booming thunder. No man
+ever swore as Dan swore then. It was terrible. It was justified. But it
+was funny, and despite all this agony of disappointment, despite the
+other boat heading into the tuna and putting them down, I laughed till I
+cried.
+
+The fishermen in that other boat hooked a fish and broke it off. We saw
+from the excitement on board that they had realized the enormous size of
+these tuna. We hurried to get ready again. It was only needful to drag a
+bait anywhere near that school. And we alternated with the other boat. I
+saw those fishermen get four more strikes and lose the four fish
+immediately. I had even worse luck. In fact, disaster grew and grew. But
+there is no need for me to multiply these instances. The last three
+tunas I hooked broke the double line on the first run. This when I had
+on only a slight drag!
+
+The other boat puddled around in our school and finally put it down for
+good, and, as the other schools had disappeared, we started for home.
+
+This was the most remarkable and unfortunate day I ever had on the sea,
+where many strange fishing experiences have been mine. Captain Dan had
+never heard of the like in eighteen years as boatman. No such
+large-sized tuna, not to mention numbers, had visited Catalina for many
+years. I had thirteen strikes, not counting more than one strike to a
+bait. Seven fish broke the single line and three the double line,
+practically, I might say, before they had run far enough to cause any
+great strain. And the parting of the double line, where, if a break had
+occurred, it would have come on the single, convinced us that all these
+lines were cut. Cut by other tuna! In this huge school of hungry fish,
+whenever one ran for or with a bait, all the others dove pellmell after
+him. The line, of course, made a white streak in the water. Perhaps the
+tuna bit it off. Perhaps they crowded it off. However they did it, the
+fact was that they cut the line. Probably it would have been impossible
+to catch one of those large tuna on the Tuna Club tackle. I hated to
+think of breaking off hooks in fish, but, after it was too late, I
+remembered with many a thrill the size and beauty and tremendous
+striking energy of those tuna, the wide, white, foamy, furious boils on
+the surface, the lunges when hooked, and the runs swift as bullets.
+
+That experience would never come to me again. It was like watching for
+the rare transformations of nature that must be waited for and which
+come so seldom.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+But, such is the persistence of mankind in general and the doggedness of
+fishermen in particular, Captain Dan and I kept on roaming the seas in
+search of tuna. Nothing more was seen or heard of the great drifting
+schools. They had gone down the channel toward Mexico, down with the
+mysterious currents of the sea, fulfilling their mission in life.
+However, different anglers reported good-sized tuna off Seal Rocks and
+Silver Canon. Several fish were hooked. Mr. Reed brought in a
+one-hundred-and-forty-one-pound tuna that took five hours to land. It
+made a dogged, desperate resistance and was almost unbeatable. Mr. Reed
+is a heavy, powerful man, and he said this tuna gave him the hardest
+task he ever attempted. I wondered what I would have done with one of
+those two-or three-hundred-pounders. There is a difference between
+Pacific and Atlantic tuna. The latter are seacows compared to these blue
+pluggers of the West. I have hooked several very large tuna along the
+Seabright coast, and, though these fish got away, they did not give me
+the battle I have had with small tuna of the Pacific. Mr. Wortheim,
+fishing with my old boatman, Horse-mackerel Sam, landed a
+two-hundred-and-sixty-two-pound Atlantic tuna in less than two hours.
+Sam said the fish made a loggy, rolling, easy fight. Crowninshield, also
+fishing with Sam, caught one weighing three hundred pounds in rather
+short order. This sort of feat cannot be done out here in the Pacific.
+The deep water here may have something to do with it, but the tuna are
+different, if not in species, then in disposition.
+
+My lucky day came after no tuna had been reported for a week. Captain
+Dan and I ran out off Silver Canon just on a last forlorn hope. The sea
+was rippling white and blue, with a good breeze. No whales showed. We
+left Avalon about one o'clock, ran out five miles, and began to fish.
+Our methods had undergone some change. We used a big kite out on three
+hundred yards of line; we tied this line on my leader, and we tightened
+the drag on the reel so that it took a nine-pound pull to start the line
+off. This seemed a fatal procedure, but I was willing to try anything.
+My hope of getting a strike was exceedingly slim. Instead of a
+flying-fish for bait we used a good-sized smelt, and we used hooks big
+and strong and sharp as needles.
+
+We had not been out half an hour when Dan left the wheel and jumped up
+on the gunwale to look at something.
+
+"What do you see?" I asked, eagerly.
+
+He was silent a moment. I dare say he did not want to make any mistakes.
+Then he jumped back to the wheel.
+
+"School of tuna!" he boomed.
+
+I stood up and looked in the direction indicated, but I could not see
+them. Dan said only the movement on the water could be seen. Good long
+swells were running, rather high, and presently I did see tuna showing
+darkly bronze in the blue water. They vanished. We had to turn the boat
+somewhat, and it began to appear that we would have difficulty in
+putting the bait into the school. So it turned out. We were in the wrong
+quarter to use the wind. I saw the school of tuna go by, perhaps two
+hundred feet from the boat. They were traveling fast, somewhat under the
+surface, and were separated from one another. They were big tuna, but
+nothing near the size of those that had wrecked my tackle and hopes.
+Captain Dan said they were hungry, hunting fish. To me they appeared
+game, swift, and illusive.
+
+We lost sight of them. With the boat turned fairly into the west wind
+the kite soared, pulling hard, and my bait skipped down the slopes of
+the swells and up over the crests just like a live, leaping little fish.
+It was my opinion that the tuna were running inshore. Dan said they were
+headed west. We saw nothing of them. Again the old familiar
+disappointment knocked at my heart, with added bitterness of past
+defeat. Dan scanned the sea like a shipwrecked mariner watching for a
+sail.
+
+"I see them!... There!" he called. "They're sure traveling fast."
+
+That stimulated me with a shock. I looked and looked, but I could not
+see the darkened water. Moments passed, during which I stood up,
+watching my bait as it slipped over the waves. I knew Dan would tell me
+when to begin to jump it. The suspense grew to be intense.
+
+"We'll catch up with them," said Dan, excitedly. "Everything's right
+now. Kite high, pulling hard--bait working fine. You're sure of a
+strike.... When you see one get the bait hook him quick and hard."
+
+The ambition of years, the long patience, the endless efforts, the
+numberless disappointments, and that never-to-be-forgotten day among the
+giant tuna--these flashed up at Captain Dan's words of certainty, and,
+together with the thrilling proximity of the tuna we were chasing, they
+roused in me emotion utterly beyond proportion or reason. This had
+happened to me before, notably in swordfishing, but never had I felt
+such thrills, such tingling nerves, such oppression on my chest, such a
+wild, eager rapture. It would have been impossible, notwithstanding my
+emotional temperament, if the leading up to this moment had not included
+so much long-sustained feeling.
+
+"Jump your bait!" called Dan, with a ring in his voice. "In two jumps
+you'll be in the tail-enders."
+
+I jerked my rod. The bait gracefully leaped over a swell--shot along the
+surface, and ended with a splash. Again I jerked. As the bait rose into
+the air a huge angry splash burst just under it, and a broad-backed tuna
+lunged and turned clear over, his tail smacking the water.
+
+"Jump it!" yelled Dan.
+
+Before I could move, a circling smash of white surrounded my bait. I
+heard it. With all my might I jerked. Strong and heavy came the weight
+of the tuna. I had hooked him. With one solid thumping splash he
+sounded. Here was test for line and test for me. I could not resist one
+turn of the thumb-wheel, to ease the drag. He went down with the same
+old incomparable speed. I saw the kite descending. Dan threw out the
+clutch--ran to my side. The reel screamed. Every tense second, as the
+line whizzed off, I expected it to break. There was no joy, no sport in
+that painful watching. He ran off two hundred feet, then, marvelous to
+see, he slowed up. The kite was still high, pulling hard. What with kite
+and drag and friction of line in the water, that tuna had great strain
+upon him. He ran off a little more, slower this time, then stopped. The
+kite began to flutter.
+
+I fell into the chair, jammed the rod-butt into the socket, and began to
+pump and wind.
+
+"Doc, you're hooked on and you've stopped him!" boomed Dan. His face
+beamed. "Look at your legs!"
+
+It became manifest then that my knees were wabbling, my feet puttering
+around, my whole lower limbs shaking as if I had the palsy. I had lost
+control of my lower muscles. It was funny; it was ridiculous. It showed
+just what was my state of excitement.
+
+The kite fluttered down to the water. The kite-line had not broken off,
+and this must add severely to the strain on the fish. Not only had I
+stopped the tuna, but soon I had him coming up, slowly yet rather
+easily. He was directly under the boat. When I had all save about one
+hundred feet of line wound in the tuna anchored himself and would not
+budge for fifteen minutes. Then again rather easily he was raised fifty
+more feet. He acted like any small, hard-fighting fish.
+
+"I've hooked a little one," I began. "That big fellow missed the bait,
+and a small one grabbed it."
+
+Dan would not say so, but he feared just that. What miserable black
+luck! Almost I threw the rod and reel overboard. Some sense, however,
+prevented me from such an absurdity. And as I worked the tuna closer and
+closer I grew absolutely sick with disappointment. The only thing to do
+was to haul this little fish in and go hunt up the school. So I pumped
+and pulled. That half-hour seemed endless and bad business altogether.
+Anger possessed me and I began to work harder. At this juncture
+Shorty's boat appeared close to us. Shorty and Adams waved me
+congratulations, and then made motions to Dan to get the direction of
+the school of tuna. That night both Shorty and Adams told me that I was
+working very hard on the fish, too hard to save any strength for a long
+battle.
+
+ [Illustration: A BLUE-FINNED PLUGGER OF THE DEEP--138-POUND TUNA]
+
+ [Illustration: AVALON, THE BEAUTIFUL]
+
+Captain Dan watched the slow, steady bends of my rod as the tuna
+plugged, and at last he said, "Doc, it's a big fish!"
+
+Strange to relate, this did not electrify me. I did not believe it. But
+at the end of that half-hour the tuna came clear to the surface, about
+one hundred feet from us, and there he rode the swells. Doubt folded his
+sable wings! Bronze and blue and green and silver flashes illumined the
+swells. I plainly saw that not only was the tuna big, but he was one of
+the long, slim, hard-fighting species.
+
+Presently he sounded, and I began to work. I was fresh, eager, strong,
+and I meant to whip him quickly. Working on a big tuna is no joke. It is
+a man's job. A tuna fights on his side, with head down, and he never
+stops. If the angler rests the tuna will not only rest, too, but he will
+take more and more line. The method is a long, slow lift or pump of
+rod--then lower the rod quickly and wind the reel. When the tuna is
+raised so high he will refuse to come any higher, and then there is a
+deadlock. There lives no fisherman but what there lives a tuna that can
+take the conceit and the fight out of him.
+
+For an hour I worked. I sweat and panted and burned in the hot sun; and
+I enjoyed it. The sea was beautiful. A strong, salty fragrance, wet and
+sweet, floated on the breeze. Catalina showed clear and bright, with
+its colored cliffs and yellow slides and dark ravines. Clemente Island
+rose a dark, long, barren, lonely land to the southeast. The clouds in
+the west were like trade-wind clouds, white, regular, with level
+base-line.
+
+At the end of the second hour I was tiring. There came a subtle change
+of spirit and mood. I had never let up for a minute. Captain Dan praised
+me, vowed I had never fought either broadbill or roundbill swordfish so
+consistently hard, but he cautioned me to save myself.
+
+"That's a big tuna," he said, as he watched my rod.
+
+Most of the time we drifted. Some of the time Dan ran the boat to keep
+even with the tuna, so he could not get too far under the stern and cut
+the line. At intervals the fish appeared to let up and at others he
+plugged harder. This I discovered was merely that he fought the hardest
+when I worked the hardest. Once we gained enough on him to cut the
+tangle of kite-line that had caught some fifty feet above my leader.
+This afforded cause for less anxiety.
+
+"I'm afraid of sharks," said Dan.
+
+Sharks are the bane of tuna fishermen. More tuna are cut off by sharks
+than are ever landed by anglers. This made me redouble my efforts, and
+in half an hour more I was dripping wet, burning hot, aching all over,
+and so spent I had to rest. Every time I dropped the rod on the gunwale
+the tuna took line--zee--zee--zee--foot by foot and yard by yard. My
+hands were cramped; my thumbs red and swollen, almost raw. I asked Dan
+for the harness, but he was loath to put it on because he was afraid I
+would break the fish off. So I worked on and on, with spurts of fury and
+periods of lagging.
+
+At the end of three hours I was in bad condition. I had saved a little
+strength for the finish, but I was in danger of using that up before the
+crucial moment arrived. Dan had to put the harness on me. I knew
+afterward that it saved the day. By the aid of the harness, putting my
+shoulders into the lift, I got the double line over the reel, only to
+lose it. Every time the tuna was pulled near the boat he sheered off,
+and it did not appear possible for me to prevent it. He got into a habit
+of coming to the surface about thirty feet out, and hanging there, in
+plain sight, as if he was cabled to the rocks of the ocean. Watching him
+only augmented my trouble. It had ceased long ago to be fun or sport or
+game. It was now a fight and it began to be torture. My hands were all
+blisters, my thumbs raw. The respect I had for that tuna was great.
+
+He plugged down mostly, but latterly he began to run off to each side,
+to come to the surface, showing his broad green-silver side, and then he
+weaved to and fro behind the boat, trying to get under it. Captain Dan
+would have to run ahead to keep away from him. To hold what gain I had
+on the tuna was at these periods almost unendurable. Where before I had
+sweat, burned, throbbed, and ached, I now began to see red, to grow
+dizzy, to suffer cramps and nausea and exceeding pain.
+
+Three hours and a half showed the tuna slower, heavier, higher, easier.
+He had taken us fifteen miles from where we had hooked him. He was
+weakening, but I thought I was worse off than he was. Dan changed the
+harness. It seemed to make more effort possible.
+
+The floor under my feet was wet and slippery from the salt water
+dripping off my reel. I could not get any footing. The bend of that rod
+downward, the ceaseless tug, tug, tug, the fear of sharks, the
+paradoxical loss of desire now to land the tuna, the change in my
+feeling of elation and thrill to wonder, disgust, and utter weariness of
+spirit and body--all these warned me that I was at the end of my tether,
+and if anything could be done it must be quickly.
+
+Relaxing, I took a short rest. Then nerving myself to be indifferent to
+the pain, and yielding altogether to the brutal instinct this
+tuna-fighting rouses in a fisherman, I lay back with might and main.
+Eight times I had gotten the double line over the reel. On the ninth I
+shut down, clamped with my thumbs, and froze there. The wire leader sung
+like a telephone wire in the cold. I could scarcely see. My arms
+cracked. I felt an immense strain that must break me in an instant.
+
+Captain Dan reached the leader. Slowly he heaved. The strain upon me was
+released. I let go the reel, threw off the drag, and stood up. There the
+tuna was, the bronze-and-blue-backed devil, gaping, wide-eyed, shining
+and silvery as he rolled, a big tuna if there ever was one, and he was
+conquered.
+
+When Dan lunged with the gaff the tuna made a tremendous splash that
+deluged us. Then Dan yelled for another gaff. I was quick to get it.
+Next it was for me to throw a lasso over that threshing tail. When I
+accomplished this the tuna was ours. We hauled him up on the stern,
+heaving, thumping, throwing water and blood; and even vanquished he was
+magnificent. Three hours and fifty minutes! The number fifty stayed with
+me. As I fell back in a chair, all in, I could not see for my life why
+any fisherman would want to catch more than one large tuna.
+
+
+
+
+XIV
+
+AVALON, THE BEAUTIFUL
+
+
+If you are a fisherman, and aspire to the study or conquest of the big
+game of the sea, go to Catalina Island once before it is too late.
+
+The summer of 1917 will never be forgotten by those fishermen who were
+fortunate enough to be at Avalon. Early in June, even in May, there were
+indications that the first record season in many years might be
+expected. Barracuda and white sea-bass showed up in great schools; the
+ocean appeared to be full of albacore; yellowtail began to strike all
+along the island shores and even in the bay of Avalon; almost every day
+in July sight of broadbill swordfish was reported, sometimes as many as
+ten in a day; in August the blue-fin tuna surged in, school after
+school, in vast numbers; and in September returned the Marlin, or
+roundbill swordfish that royal-purple swashbuckler of the Pacific.
+
+This extraordinary run of fish appeared like old times to the boatmen
+and natives who could look back over many Catalina years. The cause, of
+course, was a favorable season when the sardines and anchovies came to
+the island in incalculable numbers. Acres and acres of these little bait
+fish drifted helplessly to and fro, back and forth with the tides, from
+Seal Rocks to the west end. These schools were not broken up until the
+advent of the voracious tuna; and when they arrived the ocean soon
+seemed littered with small, amber-colored patches, each of which was a
+densely packed mass of sardines or anchovies, drifting with the current.
+It has not yet been established that swordfish feed on these schools,
+but the swordfish were there in abundance, at any rate; and it was
+reasonable to suppose that some of the fish they feed on were in pursuit
+of the anchovies.
+
+Albacore feeding on the surface raise a thin, low, white line of water
+or multitudes of slight, broken splashes. Tuna raise a white wall,
+tumbling and spouting along the horizon; and it is a sight not soon to
+be forgotten by a fisherman. Near at hand a big school of feeding tuna
+is a thrilling spectacle. They move swiftly, breaking water as they
+smash after the little fish, and the roar can be heard quite a distance.
+The wall of white water seems full of millions of tiny, glinting fish,
+leaping frantically from the savage tuna. And when the sunlight shines
+golden through this wall of white spray, and the great bronze and silver
+and blue tuna gleam for an instant, the effect is singularly exciting
+and beautiful.
+
+All through August and much of September these schools of tuna,
+thousands of them, ranted up and down the coast of Catalina, thinning
+out the amber patches of anchovies, and affording the most magnificent
+sport to anglers.
+
+These tuna may return next year and then again they may not return for
+ten years. Some time again they will swing round the circle or drift
+with the currents, in that mysterious and inscrutable nature of the
+ocean. And if a fisherman can only pick out the year or have the
+obsession to go back season after season he will some day see these
+wonderful schools again.
+
+But as for the other fish--swordfish, white sea-bass, yellowtail, and
+albacore--their doom has been spelled, and soon they will be no more.
+That is why I say to fishermen if they want to learn something about
+these incomparable fish they must go soon to Catalina before it is too
+late.
+
+The Japs, the Austrians, the round-haul nets, the canneries and the
+fertilizer-plants--that is to say, foreigners and markets, greed and
+war, have cast their dark shadow over beautiful Avalon. The intelligent,
+far-seeing boatmen all see it. My boatman, Captain Danielson, spoke
+gloomily of the not distant time when his occupation would be gone. And
+as for the anglers who fish at Catalina, some of them see it and many of
+them do not. The standard raised at Avalon has been to haul in as many
+of the biggest fish in the least possible time. One famous fisherman
+brought in thirteen tuna--nine hundred and eighty-six pounds of
+tuna--that he caught in one day! This is unbelievable, yet it is true.
+Another brought in eleven tuna in one day. These fishermen are
+representative of the coterie who fish for records. All of them are big,
+powerful men, and when they hook a fish they will not give him a foot of
+line if they can help it. They horse him in, and if they can horse him
+in before he wakes up to real combat they are the better pleased. All of
+which is to say that the true motive (or pleasure, if it can be such)
+is the instinct to kill. I have observed this in many fishermen. Any one
+who imagines that man has advanced much beyond the savage stage has only
+carefully to observe fishermen.
+
+ [Illustration: THE OLD AVALON BARGE WHERE THE GULLS FISH AND SCREAM]
+
+ [Illustration: THE END OF THE DAY OFF CATALINA ISLAND]
+
+I have demonstrated the practicability of letting Marlin swordfish go
+after they were beaten, but almost all of the boatmen will not do it.
+The greater number of swordfish weigh under two hundred pounds, and when
+exhausted and pulled up to the boat they can be freed by cutting the
+wire leader close to the hook. Probably all these fish would live. A
+fisherman will have his fun seeing and photographing the wonderful
+leaps, and conquering the fish, and when all this is over it would be
+sportsman-like to let him go. Marlin are not food fish, and they are
+thrown to the sharks. During 1918, however, many were sold as food fish.
+It seems a pity to treat this royal, fighting, wonderful, purple-colored
+fish in this way. But the boatmen will not free them. My boatman claimed
+that his reputation depended upon the swordfish he caught; and that in
+Avalon no one would believe fish were caught unless brought to the dock.
+It was his bread and butter. His reputation brought him new fishermen,
+and so he could not afford to lose it. Nevertheless, he was persuaded to
+do it in 1918. The fault, then, does not lie with the boatman.
+
+The Japs are the greatest market fishermen in the world. And some five
+hundred boats put out of San Pedro every day, to scour the ocean for
+"the chicken of the sea," as albacore are advertised to the millions of
+people who are always hungry. It must be said that the Japs mostly fish
+square. They use a hook, and a barbless hook at that. Usually four Japs
+constitute the crew of one of these fast eighty-horse-power motor-boats.
+They roam the sea with sharp eyes ever alert for that thin white line on
+the horizon, the feeding albacore. Their method of fishing is unique and
+picturesque. When they sight albacore they run up on the school and slow
+down.
+
+In the stern of the boat stands a huge tank, usually painted red. I have
+become used to seeing dots of red all over the ocean. This tank is kept
+full of fresh sea-water by a pump connected with the engine, and it is
+used to keep live bait--no other than the little anchovies. One Jap,
+using a little net, dips up live bait and throws them overboard to the
+albacore. Another Jap beats on the water with long bamboo poles, making
+splashes. The other two Japs have short, stiff poles with a wire
+attached and the barbless hook at the end. They put on a live bait and
+toss it over. Instantly they jerk hard, and two big white albacore, from
+fifteen to thirty pounds, come wiggling up on to the stern of the boat.
+Down goes the pole and whack! goes a club. It is all done with swift
+mechanical precision. It used to amaze me and fill me with sadness. If
+the Japs could hold the school of albacore they would very soon load the
+boat. But usually a school of albacore cannot be held long.
+
+You cannot fish in the channel any more without encountering these Jap
+boats. Once at one time in 1917 I saw one hundred and thirty-two boats.
+Most of them were fishing! They ran to and fro over the ocean, chasing
+every white splash, and they make an angler's pleasure taste bitter.
+
+Fortunately the Japs had let the tuna alone, for the simple and good
+reason that they had not found a way to catch the wise blue-fins. But
+they will find a way! Yet they drove the schools down, and that was
+almost as bad. As far as swordfish are concerned, it is easy to see what
+will happen, now that the albacore have become scarce. Broadbill
+swordfish are the finest food fish in the sea. They can be easily
+harpooned by these skilful Japs. And so eventually they will be killed
+and driven away. This misfortune may not come at once, but it will come.
+
+In this connection it is interesting to note that I tried to photograph
+one of the Austrian crews in action. But Captain Dan would not let me
+get near enough to take a picture. There is bad blood between Avalon
+boatmen and these foreign market fishermen. Shots had been exchanged
+more than once. Captain Dan kept a rifle on board. This news sort of
+stirred me. And I said: "Run close to that bunch, Cap. Maybe they'll
+take a peg at me!" But he refused to comply, and I lost a chance to
+serve my country!
+
+The Japs, however, are square fishermen, mostly, and I rather admire
+those albacore-chasers, who at least give the fish a chance. Some of
+them use nets, and against them and the Austrian round-haul netters I am
+exceedingly bitter. These round-haul nets, some of them, must be a mile
+long, and they sink two hundred feet in the water. What chance has a
+school of fish against that? They surround a school and there is no
+escape.
+
+Clemente Island, the sister island to Catalina, was once a paradise for
+fish, especially the beautiful, gamy yellowtail. But there are no more
+fish there, except Marlin swordfish in August and September. The great,
+boiling schools of yellowtail are gone. Clemente Island has no
+three-mile law protecting it, as has Catalina. But that Catalina law has
+become a farce. It is violated often in broad daylight, and probably all
+night long. One Austrian round-haul netter took seven tons of white
+sea-bass in one haul. Seven tons! Did you ever look at a white sea-bass?
+He is the most beautiful of bass--slender, graceful, thoroughbred,
+exquisitely colored like a paling opal, and a fighter if there ever was
+one.
+
+What becomes of these seven tons of white sea-bass and all the other
+tons and tons of yellowtail and albacore? That is a question. It needs
+to be answered. During the year 1917 one heard many things. The
+fish-canneries were working day and night, and every can of fish--the
+whole output had been bought by the government for the soldiers. Very
+good. We are a nation at war. Our soldiers must be properly fed and so
+must our allies. If it takes all the fish in the sea and all the meat on
+the land, we must and will win this war.
+
+But real patriotism is one thing and misstatement is another. If there
+were not so much deceit and greed in connection with this war it would
+be easier to stomach.
+
+As a matter of cold fact, that round-haul netter's seven tons of
+beautiful white sea-bass did not go into cans for our good soldiers or
+for our fighting allies. Those seven tons of splendid white sea-bass
+went into the fertilizer-plant, where many and many a ton had gone
+before!
+
+It is not hard to comprehend. When they work for the fertilizer-plants
+they do not need ice--they do not need to hurry to the port to save
+spoiling--they can stay out till the boat is packed full. So often a
+greater part of the magnificent schools of white sea-bass, albacore, and
+yellowtail--splendid food fish--go into the fertilizer-plants to make a
+few foreign-born hogs rich. Hundreds of aliens, many of them hostile to
+the United States, are making big money, which is sent abroad.
+
+I believe that the great kelp-beds round Catalina are the
+spawning-grounds of these fish in question. And not only a
+spawning-ground, but, what is more important, a feeding-ground. And now
+the kelp-beds are being exploited. The government needs potash. Formerly
+our supply of potash came from Germany. But, now that we are not on
+amiable terms with those nice gentle Germans, we cannot get any potash.
+Hence the great, huge kelp-cutters that you hear cut only the tops of
+the kelp-beds. Six feet they say, and it all grows up again quickly. But
+in my opinion the once vast, heaving, wonderful beds of kelp along the
+Clemente and Catalina shores have been cut too deeply. They will die.
+
+Some of my predictions made in 1917 were verified in 1918.
+
+A few scattered schools of albacore appeared in the channel in July. But
+these were soon caught or chased away by the market boats.
+Albacore-fishing was poor in other localities up and down the coast.
+Many of the Jap fishermen sold their boats and sought other industry.
+It was a fact, and a great pleasure, that an angler could go out for
+tuna without encountering a single market boat on the sea. Maybe the
+albacore did not come this year; maybe they were mostly all caught;
+maybe they were growing shyer of boats; at any event, they were scarce,
+and the reason seems easy to see.
+
+It was significant that the broadbill swordfish did not return to Avalon
+in 1918, as in former years. I saw only one in two months roaming the
+ocean. A few were seen. Not one was caught during my stay on the island.
+Many boatmen and anglers believe that the broadbills follow the
+albacore. It seems safe to predict that when the albacore cease to come
+to Catalina there will not be any fishing for the great flat-sworded
+_Xiphias_.
+
+The worst that came to pass in 1918, from an angler's viewpoint, was
+that the market fishermen found a way to net the blue-fin tuna, both
+large and small. All I could learn was that the nets were lengthened and
+deepened. The Japs got into the great schools of large tuna which
+appeared off Anacapa Island and netted tons and tons of hundred-pound
+tuna. These schools drifted on down the middle of the Clemente Channel,
+and I was the lucky fellow who happened to get among them for one
+memorable day.
+
+Take it all in all, my gloomy prophecies of other years were
+substantiated in 1918, especially in regard to the devastated kelp-beds;
+but there have been a few silver rifts in the black cloud, and it seems
+well to end this book with mention of brighter things.
+
+All fish brought into Avalon in 1918 were sold for food.
+
+We inaugurated the releasing of small Marlin swordfish.
+
+There was a great increase in the interest taken in the use of light
+tackle.
+
+We owe the latter stride toward conservation and sportsmanship to Mr.
+James Jump, and to Lone Angler, and to President Coxe of the Tuna Club.
+I had not been entirely in sympathy with their feats of taking Marlin
+swordfish and tuna on light tackle. My objections to the use of too
+light tackle have been cited before in this book. Many fish break away
+on the nine-thread. I know this because I tried it out. Fifteen of those
+small tuna, one after another, broke my line on the first rush. But I
+believe that was my lack of skill with handling of rod and boat.
+
+As for Marlin, I have always known that I could take some of these
+roundbill swordfish on light tackle. But likewise there have been some
+that could not have been taken so, and these are the swordfish I have
+fished for.
+
+Nevertheless, I certainly do not want to detract from Jump's
+achievements, as I will show. They have been remarkable. And they have
+attracted wide attention to the possibilities of light tackle. Thus Mr.
+Jump has done conservative angling an estimable good, as well as placed
+himself in a class alone.
+
+The use of light tackle by experts for big game fish of the sea has come
+to be an established practice in American angling. A few years ago, when
+sport with light tackle was exceptional, it required courage to flaunt
+its use in the faces of fishermen of experience and established
+reputation. Long Key, now the most noted fishing resort on the Atlantic
+coast, was not many years back a place for hand-lines and huge rods and
+tackle, and boat-loads of fish for one man. It has become a resort for
+gentlemen anglers, and its sportsmen's club claims such experts and fine
+exponents of angling as Heilner, Lester, Cassiard, Crowninshield,
+Conill, the Schutts, and others, who can safely be trusted to advance
+the standard. Fishermen are like sheep--they follow the boldest leaders.
+And no one wants to be despised by the elect. Long Key, with its
+isolation, yet easy accession, its beauty and charm, its loneliness and
+quiet, its big game fish, will become the Mecca of high-class
+light tackle anglers, who will in time answer for the ethics and
+sportsmanship of the Atlantic seaboard.
+
+On the Pacific side the light tackle advocates have had a different row
+to hoe. With nothing but keen, fair, honest, and splendid zealousness
+Mr. James Jump has pioneered this sport almost single-handed against the
+heavy tackle record-holder who until recently dominated the Tuna Club
+and the boatmen and the fishing at Avalon. To my shame and regret I
+confess that it took me three years to recognize Jump's bigness as an
+angler and his tenacity as a fighter. But I shall make amends. It seems
+when I fished I was steeped in dreams of the sea and the beauty of the
+lonely islands. I am not in Jump's class as a fisherman, nor in Lone
+Angler's, either. They stand by themselves. But I can write about them,
+and so inspire others.
+
+Jump set out in 1914 to catch swordfish on light tackle, and
+incidentally tuna under one hundred pounds. He was ridiculed, scorned,
+scoffed at, made a butt of by this particular heavy tackle angler, and
+cordially hated for his ambitions. Most anglers and boatmen repudiated
+his claims and looked askance at him. Personally I believed Jump might
+catch some swordfish or tuna on light tackle, but only one out of many,
+and that one not the fighting kind. I was wrong. It was Lone Angler who
+first drew my attention to Jump's achievements and possibilities.
+President Coxe was alive to them also, and he has rebuilt and
+rejuvenated the Tuna Club on the splendid standard set by its founder,
+Dr. Charles Frederick Holder, and with infinite patience and tact and
+labor, and love of fine angling and good fellowship, he has put down
+that small but mighty clique who threatened the ruin of sport at fair
+Avalon. This has not been public news, but it ought to be and shall be
+public news.
+
+The malignant attack recently made upon Mr. Jump's catches of Marlin
+swordfish on light tackle was uncalled for and utterly false. It was
+an obvious and jealous attempt to belittle, discredit, and dishonor
+one of the finest gentlemen sportsmen who ever worked for the good
+of the game. I know and I will swear that Jump's capture of the
+three-hundred-and-fourteen-pound Marlin on light tackle in twenty-eight
+minutes was absolutely as honest as it was skilful, as sportsman-like as
+it was wonderful. A number of well-known sportsmen _watched_ him take
+this Marlin. Yet his enemies slandered him, accused him of using ropes
+and Heaven knows what else! It was vile and it failed.
+
+Jump has performed the apparently impossible. Marlin swordfish hooked on
+light tackle can be handled by an exceedingly skilful angler. They make
+an indescribably spectacular, wonderful fight, on the surface all the
+time, and can be taken as quickly as on heavy tackle. Obviously, then,
+this becomes true of tarpon and sailfish and small tuna. What a world to
+conquer lies before the fine-spirited angler! A few fish on light
+outfits magnifying all the excitement and thrills of many fish on heavy
+outfits! There are no arguments against this, for men who have time and
+money.
+
+We pioneers of light tackle are out of the woods _now_. There was a
+pride in a fight against odds--a pride of silence, and a fight of
+example and expressed standards and splendid achievements. But now we
+have followers, disciples who have learned, who have profited, who have
+climbed to the heights, and we are no longer alone. Hence we can scatter
+the news to the four winds and ask for the comradeship of kindred
+spirits, of men who love the sea and the stream and the gameness of a
+fish. The Open Sesame to our clan is just that love, and an ambition to
+achieve higher things. Who fishes just to kill? At Long Key last winter
+I met two self-styled sportsmen. They were eager to convert me to what
+they claimed was the dry-fly class angling of the sea. And it was to jab
+harpoons and spears into porpoises and manatee and sawfish, and be
+dragged about in their boat. The height of their achievements that
+winter had been the harpooning of several sawfish, each of which gave
+birth to a little one while being fought on the harpoon! Ye gods! It
+would never do to record my utterances.
+
+But I record this fact only in the hope of opening the eyes of anglers.
+I have no ax to grind for myself. I have gone through the game, over to
+the fair side, and I want anglers to know.
+
+We are a nation of fishermen and riflemen. Who says the Americans cannot
+shoot or fight? What made that great bunch of Yankee boys turn back the
+Hun hordes? It was the quick eye, the steady nerve, the unquenchable
+spirit of the American boy--his heritage from his hunter forefathers. We
+are great fishermen's sons also, and we can save the fish that are being
+depleted in our waters.
+
+Let every angler who loves to fish think what it would mean to him to
+find the fish were gone. The mackerel are gone, the bluefish are going,
+the menhaden are gone, every year the amberjack and kingfish grow
+smaller and fewer. We must find ways and means to save our game fish of
+the sea; and one of the finest and most sportsman-like ways is to use
+light tackle.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Wiborn, the Lone Angler, is also in a class by himself. To my mind
+Wiborn is the ideal angler of the sea. I have aspired to his method, but
+realize it is impossible for me. He goes out alone. Hence the name Lone
+Angler. He operates his motor-launch, rigs his tackle and bait and
+teasers, flies his kite, finds the fish, fights the one he hooks, and
+gaffs and hauls it aboard or releases it, all by himself. Any one who
+has had the slightest experience in Pacific angling can appreciate this
+hazardous, complicated, and laborsome job of the Lone Angler. Any one
+who ever fought a big tuna or swordfish can imagine where he would have
+been without a boatman. After some of my fights with fish Captain
+Danielson has been as tired as I was. His job had been as hard as mine.
+But Wiborn goes out day by day alone, and he has brought in big tuna and
+swordfish. Not many! He is too fine a sportsman to bring in many fish.
+
+And herein is the point I want to drive home in my tribute to Lone
+Angler. No one can say how many fish he catches. He never tells. Always
+he has a fine, wonderful, beautiful day on the water. It matters not to
+him, the bringing home of fish to exhibit. This roused my admiration,
+and also my suspicion. I got to believing that Lone Angler caught many
+more fish than he ever brought home.
+
+So I spied upon him. Whenever chance afforded I watched him through my
+powerful binoculars. He was always busy. His swift boat roamed the seas.
+Always he appeared a white dot on the blue horizon, like the flash of a
+gull. I have watched his kite flutter down; I have seen his boat stop
+and stand still; I have seen sheeted splashes of water near him; and
+more than once I have seen him leaning back with bent rod, working and
+pumping hard. But when he came into Avalon on these specific occasions,
+he brought no tuna, no swordfish--nothing but a cheerful, enigmatic
+smile and a hopeful question as to the good luck of his friends.
+
+"But I saw you hauling away on a fish," I ventured to say, once.
+
+ [Illustration: SEAL ROCKS]
+
+"Oh, that was an old shark," he replied, laughing.
+
+Well, it might have been, but I had my doubts. And at the close of 1918
+I believed, though I could not prove, that Lone Angler let the most of
+his fish go free. Hail to Lone Angler! If a man must roam the salt sea
+in search of health and peace, and in a manly, red-blooded
+exercise--here is the ideal. I have not seen its equal. I envy him--his
+mechanical skill, his fearlessness of distance and fog and wind, his
+dexterity with kite and rod and wheel, but especially I envy him the
+lonesome rides upon a lonesome sea--
+
+     Alone, all alone on a wide, wide sea.
+
+The long, heaving swells, the windy lanes, the flight of the sheerwater
+and the uplifted flukes of the whale, the white wall of tuna on the
+horizon, the leap of the dolphin, the sweet, soft scent that breathes
+from off the sea, the beauty and mystery and color and movement of the
+deep--these are Lone Angler's alone, and he is as rich as if he had
+found the sands of the Pacific to be pearls, the waters nectar, and the
+rocks pure gold.
+
+Happily, neither war nor business nor fish-hogs can ruin the wonderful
+climate of Catalina Island. Nature does not cater to evil conditions.
+The sun and the fog, the great, calm Pacific, the warm Japanese current,
+the pleasant winds--these all have their tasks, and they perform them
+faithfully, to the happiness of those who linger at Catalina.
+
+Avalon, the beautiful! Somehow even the fire that destroyed half of
+Avalon did not greatly mar its beauty. At a distance the bay and the
+grove of eucalyptus-trees, the green-and-gold slopes, look as they
+always looked. Avalon has a singular charm outside of its sport of
+fishing. It is the most delightful and comfortable place I ever visited.
+The nights are cool. You sleep under blankets even when over in Los
+Angeles people are suffocating with the heat. At dawn the hills are
+obscured in fog and sometimes this fog is chilly. But early or late in
+the morning it breaks up and rolls away. The sun shines. It is the kind
+of sunshine that dazzles the eye, elevates the spirit, and warms the
+back. And out there rolls the vast blue Pacific--calm, slowly heaving,
+beautiful, and mysterious.
+
+During the summer months Avalon is gay, colorful, happy, and mirthful
+with its crowds of tourists and summer visitors. The one broad street
+runs along the beach and I venture to say no other street in America can
+compare with it for lazy, idle, comfortable, pleasant, and picturesque
+effects. It is difficult to determine just where the beach begins and
+the street ends, because of the strollers in bathing-suits. Many a time,
+after a long fishing-day on the water, as I was walking up the middle of
+the street, I have been stunned to a gasp by the startling apparition of
+Venus or Hebe or Little Egypt or Annette Kellermann parading
+nonchalantly to and fro. It seems reasonable and fair to give notice
+that broadbill swordfish are not the only dangers to encounter at
+Avalon. I wish they had a policeman there.
+
+But the spirit of Avalon, like the climate, is something to love. It is
+free, careless, mirthful, wholesome, restful, and serene. The resort is
+democratic and indifferent and aloof. Yet there is always mirth, music,
+and laughter. Many and many a night have I awakened, anywhere from ten
+to one, to listen to the low lap of the waves on the beach, the soft
+tones of an Hawaiian ukulele, the weird cry of a nocturnal sea-gull, the
+bark of a sea-lion, or the faint, haunting laugh of some happy girl,
+going by late, perhaps with her lover.
+
+Avalon is so clean and sweet. It is the only place I have been, except
+Long Key, where the omnipresent, hateful, and stinking automobile does
+not obtrude upon real content. Think of air not reeking with gasolene
+and a street safe to cross at any time! Safe, I mean, of course, from
+being run down by some joy-rider. You are liable to encounter one of the
+Loreleis or Aphrodites at any hour from five till sunset. You must risk
+chance of that.
+
+So, in conclusion, let me repeat that if you are a fisherman of any
+degree, and if you aspire to some wonderful experiences with the great
+and vanishing game fish of the Pacific, and if you would love to
+associate with these adventures some dazzling white hot days, and
+unforgetable cool nights where your eyelids get glued with sleep, and
+the fragrant salt breath of the sea, its music and motion and color and
+mystery and beauty--then go to Avalon before it is too late.
+
+                         THE END
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Tales of Fishes, by Zane Grey
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