ALBACORA 89 



bait, he put that bait right across the albacora's nose. 

 The fish turned away. Again we maneuvered. This time, 

 with a great splash of his mighty tail, Bosco dove for the 

 bait. "Wham" — the sword lashed out. Lou was in the 

 chair now, waiting and watching. Suspense pinioned 

 everyone. A little of the line spooled off, then a little 

 more, faster and faster. "Strike! Ahead with the boat," 

 Lou shouted. We had struck Bosco, the king of kings. 

 Lou worked like a man driven by some fury risen from 

 the sea. It was scarcely more than fifty-five minutes be- 

 fore that greatest of all albacora was brought to the 

 leader. The next hour taxed us almost beyond endur- 

 ance: twelve times more, twelve separate battles, each 

 one bringing him to the boat only to have him elude 

 our grasp and dash away. It was the most difficult hour 

 of my life. I took the controls so that Eddie was free to 

 take the leader. That thirteenth run, however, ended the 

 fight. Bosco had got too close to the boat for his own 

 good. Eddie wrapped the heavy-cable leader wire 

 around both hands and held on. I thought his arms 

 would rip from his shoulders — but the gaff was in the 

 fish now and he was ours — Bosco, the king of the sea! 

 What a Goliath! 



Lou could scarcely contain himself when he finally 

 saw that great bulk across the stern. 



"Bosco," Lou breathed, with the reverence of a 

 priest at the altar. 



The Flying Heart turned and made full speed for port. 



