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.After supper I climbed the hill to watch the sunset and themoonrise.The breathless stillness was something entirely new in my experiencenear the sea.No sound of surf! No moaning out on the bar! As the white moonsoared above the hill the slopes and swales of grass took on a silver tint.Ilingered to see and feel until I was so sleepy I could stay awake no longer.Morning came, still, soft, rosy, balmy, colorful.Larks, up with the break ofday, poured forth their perfect melodies.The grass was heavy with dew.Mulletand garfish were breaking the surface of the still water near the beach.Widecircles waved away and disappeared.Beyond the bay the ocean, placid and smooth, resembled a mill pond.There was,however, a long low scarcely perceptible swell, which my watchful eyesdetected.We ran out to the rocks for bait, and caught half a dozen kahawai inas many minutes.I saw a huge kingfish, so the boatman called it.He came upand lunged for a kahawai on the trolling line, making a sousing splash at theboat.If he was not a regular old yellowtail, belonging to the family seriola,then I missed my classification.The boatmen call this species kingfish; butkingfish belong to the mackerel family, and there was no mackerel about thisfish.He looked to weigh close to a hundred, and made me keen to catch one.Outside of Cape Brett we found the sea one vast, glassy expanse.What a day tohunt for broadbill swordfish! I had not seen a better day in all myswordfishing at Catalina.Moreover, the air was pleasant, the shore linestrikingly clear.I did not expect to see a broad-bill swordfish, but Icertainly could not help looking for one on such a sea as that.Birds werescarce.There was no sign of small fish on the surface.We ran out severalmiles, and all the while I perched on the deck, scanning the sea near and far,Page 17 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlall at once I saw fins.I called out and stood up.We thought the finsbelonged to a Marlin.Then we saw two more fish farther on, and formed thesame conclusion about them.Suddenly the one nearest came up higher, showinghis dorsal fin.I stared.I could not believe my eyes.Surely thatbrown-hooked rakish leathery dorsal could not belong to a broadbill swordfish,one of my old gladiator friends way down here in the Antipodes! But it did."Broadbill!" I yelled in wild excitement."Look!.Three broadbills!"Leaping for my tackle, I called for Arlidge to run around in front of thenearest fish."Careful!" I warned."Not too close!" At that he got closeenough to scare a Catalina broadbill out of a year's growth, but theconsequence was not so dire here.Williams threw hook baited with aneight-pound kahawai hooked through the back.I deplored that, but it was toolate.I let out a hundred feet of line.The swordfish came on at my left, notquite an equal distance away.We glided ahead of him, and I dragged the baitfairly close to his path.Suddenly he saw it.He dove.I waited tensely.Indeed, the others on board were tense, too.Nothing happened.I thought hehad passed us by.Then he swirled up, showing half his bronze body, huge,glistening.I thrilled all over.He had lunged for the bait.I knew he wouldhit it, and so I called out.Did he hit it? Well, he nearly knocked the rodout of my hands.How that peculiar switching up of the line made me tremble!No other fish in the sea can give a line that motion.The swordfish struck again, again, and the fourth time.It was great.I couldscarcely realize the truth.Then he took the bait and made off slowly atfirst, then increasing his speed until he was going fast and my line waswhizzing off the reel.When we had half of it off, two hundred and fiftyyards, I shut down on the drag, and as R.C.would say, "handed it to him".In a moment more I knew I was hooked to a real old Xiphias gladius.He came upand showed his enormous shoulders, his high dorsal and half of his tail.Thenhe sounded.The fight began, and, as I wanted to excite these boatmen who had scarcelyever heard of a broadbill, I performed rather violently and strenuously, whichsoon told upon me.I got out of breath and slacked up, until the fish ran outthe line.He went down deep, which was disappointing as I wanted him to dosome surface stunts.He never showed again.In half an hour I was wet withsweat and thoroughly warmed up.I fought him hard.Long before the hour passedI knew I had on a very heavy swordfish.I could not do much with him, thoughsometimes it appeared I had the mastery.At the hour-and-three-quarters mark Ishut down on the drag and let him pull.Here I found to my surprise that hecould tow the boat.It was not a small boat, either.That, I knew, would behard on him; and thereafter, when I needed a rest, I let him drag us a bit.Three-quarters of an hour of this sort of thing wore him out to the extentthat I was soon getting line back and daring to hope for the best.He was soenormously heavy that I could not lift him more than a foot or so at each pumpof the rod.He had been down a thousand feet.All this fight had taken placewith the fish at a great depth, which was new in my experience.But everybroadbill teaches you something new.Finally I was lifting this swordfish,beginning to feel assured that I might get him, when the hook began to rip.Ifelt it rip--rip--and come out! I reeled in the long line without saying aword.The boatman felt the loss even more keenly than I.Yet I could not helpdeploring the usual manifestation of my exceedingly miserable luck as afisherman; particularly in this instance, because the capture of the greatestgame fish of all the Seven Seas here in the Bay of Islands waters of NewZealand would have meant much toward the development of the resort.Later in the day I sighted a big Marlin fin on the surface of a swell; andthat pleased me, for it proved that these New Zealand swordfish ride theswells the same as in other waters.About three o'clock we ran in to the cape, and took to drifting, along withthe other boats.Here again I rested while I was fishing (which was quiteunique for me) and at the same time I kept close watch on the other boats, myglass bringing them right under my eyes.We let tide and wind take us at theirPage 18 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlwill; and when we got half a mile or so off the rock we would run back anddrift over again.During three of these drifts, of about an hour's durationeach, I saw four boats lose fish, Marlin I was sure.One boat went out to seawith a fish, and I did not see what happened.Later we learned the angler ofthis boat caught his Marlin.I saw two anglers of another boat hook a fish ontwo rods.Despite this they ran off with the fish.Finally I got so curious tosee the result that I had my boatmen follow.When we came upon the two anglersthey had brought up a two-hundred-pound mako and at the moment were quitebusily engaged [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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.After supper I climbed the hill to watch the sunset and themoonrise.The breathless stillness was something entirely new in my experiencenear the sea.No sound of surf! No moaning out on the bar! As the white moonsoared above the hill the slopes and swales of grass took on a silver tint.Ilingered to see and feel until I was so sleepy I could stay awake no longer.Morning came, still, soft, rosy, balmy, colorful.Larks, up with the break ofday, poured forth their perfect melodies.The grass was heavy with dew.Mulletand garfish were breaking the surface of the still water near the beach.Widecircles waved away and disappeared.Beyond the bay the ocean, placid and smooth, resembled a mill pond.There was,however, a long low scarcely perceptible swell, which my watchful eyesdetected.We ran out to the rocks for bait, and caught half a dozen kahawai inas many minutes.I saw a huge kingfish, so the boatman called it.He came upand lunged for a kahawai on the trolling line, making a sousing splash at theboat.If he was not a regular old yellowtail, belonging to the family seriola,then I missed my classification.The boatmen call this species kingfish; butkingfish belong to the mackerel family, and there was no mackerel about thisfish.He looked to weigh close to a hundred, and made me keen to catch one.Outside of Cape Brett we found the sea one vast, glassy expanse.What a day tohunt for broadbill swordfish! I had not seen a better day in all myswordfishing at Catalina.Moreover, the air was pleasant, the shore linestrikingly clear.I did not expect to see a broad-bill swordfish, but Icertainly could not help looking for one on such a sea as that.Birds werescarce.There was no sign of small fish on the surface.We ran out severalmiles, and all the while I perched on the deck, scanning the sea near and far,Page 17 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlall at once I saw fins.I called out and stood up.We thought the finsbelonged to a Marlin.Then we saw two more fish farther on, and formed thesame conclusion about them.Suddenly the one nearest came up higher, showinghis dorsal fin.I stared.I could not believe my eyes.Surely thatbrown-hooked rakish leathery dorsal could not belong to a broadbill swordfish,one of my old gladiator friends way down here in the Antipodes! But it did."Broadbill!" I yelled in wild excitement."Look!.Three broadbills!"Leaping for my tackle, I called for Arlidge to run around in front of thenearest fish."Careful!" I warned."Not too close!" At that he got closeenough to scare a Catalina broadbill out of a year's growth, but theconsequence was not so dire here.Williams threw hook baited with aneight-pound kahawai hooked through the back.I deplored that, but it was toolate.I let out a hundred feet of line.The swordfish came on at my left, notquite an equal distance away.We glided ahead of him, and I dragged the baitfairly close to his path.Suddenly he saw it.He dove.I waited tensely.Indeed, the others on board were tense, too.Nothing happened.I thought hehad passed us by.Then he swirled up, showing half his bronze body, huge,glistening.I thrilled all over.He had lunged for the bait.I knew he wouldhit it, and so I called out.Did he hit it? Well, he nearly knocked the rodout of my hands.How that peculiar switching up of the line made me tremble!No other fish in the sea can give a line that motion.The swordfish struck again, again, and the fourth time.It was great.I couldscarcely realize the truth.Then he took the bait and made off slowly atfirst, then increasing his speed until he was going fast and my line waswhizzing off the reel.When we had half of it off, two hundred and fiftyyards, I shut down on the drag, and as R.C.would say, "handed it to him".In a moment more I knew I was hooked to a real old Xiphias gladius.He came upand showed his enormous shoulders, his high dorsal and half of his tail.Thenhe sounded.The fight began, and, as I wanted to excite these boatmen who had scarcelyever heard of a broadbill, I performed rather violently and strenuously, whichsoon told upon me.I got out of breath and slacked up, until the fish ran outthe line.He went down deep, which was disappointing as I wanted him to dosome surface stunts.He never showed again.In half an hour I was wet withsweat and thoroughly warmed up.I fought him hard.Long before the hour passedI knew I had on a very heavy swordfish.I could not do much with him, thoughsometimes it appeared I had the mastery.At the hour-and-three-quarters mark Ishut down on the drag and let him pull.Here I found to my surprise that hecould tow the boat.It was not a small boat, either.That, I knew, would behard on him; and thereafter, when I needed a rest, I let him drag us a bit.Three-quarters of an hour of this sort of thing wore him out to the extentthat I was soon getting line back and daring to hope for the best.He was soenormously heavy that I could not lift him more than a foot or so at each pumpof the rod.He had been down a thousand feet.All this fight had taken placewith the fish at a great depth, which was new in my experience.But everybroadbill teaches you something new.Finally I was lifting this swordfish,beginning to feel assured that I might get him, when the hook began to rip.Ifelt it rip--rip--and come out! I reeled in the long line without saying aword.The boatman felt the loss even more keenly than I.Yet I could not helpdeploring the usual manifestation of my exceedingly miserable luck as afisherman; particularly in this instance, because the capture of the greatestgame fish of all the Seven Seas here in the Bay of Islands waters of NewZealand would have meant much toward the development of the resort.Later in the day I sighted a big Marlin fin on the surface of a swell; andthat pleased me, for it proved that these New Zealand swordfish ride theswells the same as in other waters.About three o'clock we ran in to the cape, and took to drifting, along withthe other boats.Here again I rested while I was fishing (which was quiteunique for me) and at the same time I kept close watch on the other boats, myglass bringing them right under my eyes.We let tide and wind take us at theirPage 18 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlwill; and when we got half a mile or so off the rock we would run back anddrift over again.During three of these drifts, of about an hour's durationeach, I saw four boats lose fish, Marlin I was sure.One boat went out to seawith a fish, and I did not see what happened.Later we learned the angler ofthis boat caught his Marlin.I saw two anglers of another boat hook a fish ontwo rods.Despite this they ran off with the fish.Finally I got so curious tosee the result that I had my boatmen follow.When we came upon the two anglersthey had brought up a two-hundred-pound mako and at the moment were quitebusily engaged [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]