I had a line of my own, and begging
one of the small fish that had been hauled up in the Gulf weed, I
got permission to go aft and fish over the taffrail. The little
fish was carefully secured on the hook, the point of which just
protruded near his tail. Then I lowered him into the calm blue
waters beneath, and paid out line very gently, until my bait was
a silvery spot about a hundred feet astern. Only a very short
time, and my hopes rose as I saw one bright gleam after another
glide past the keel, heading aft. Then came a gentle drawing at
the line, which I suffered to slip slowly through my fingers
until I judged it time to try whether I was right or wrong, A
long hard pull, and my heart beat fast as I felt the thrill along
the line that fishermen love. None of your high art here, but
haul in hand over hand, the line being strong enough to land a
250 pound fish. Up he came, the beauty, all silver and scarlet
and blue, five feet long if an inch, and weighing 35 pounds.
Well, such a lot of astonished men I never saw. They could
hardly believe their eyes. That such a daring innovation should
be successful was hardly to be believed, even with the vigorous
evidence before them.
Pages:
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68