8 ALBACORA 



ment," Lou resumed his instructions to Doty, leaning 

 back from breakfast coffee and sounding like a seago- 

 ing Cecil B. de Mille. "For the movies, we aren't in- 

 terested in boating the fish. All we want is to make 

 them jump. We'll be giving them lots of line and letting 

 them think they're free, and if we lose them . . ." Lou 

 paused and gulped in an old fisherman's reflex action. 

 "Then we lose them," he said finally with resignation. 



Doty nodded. He would never have a better chance 

 to take his pictures because in another day Luis Rivas, 

 our chief ichthyologist, would arrive and start urging 

 us to boat every fish in the sea for dissection, measure- 

 ment and analysis. "We ought to get some pretty good 

 stuff," Doty said. 



''Pretty good," Lou echoed. "Listen. We're going to 

 get the greatest films of fishing ever. You've got the 

 run of the boat. Work anywhere you want. Topside. 

 Harpoon pulpit." Lou pointed quickly toward an un- 

 comfortable perch. "Anywhere at all. We're going to 

 run this boat right over those fish and stay over them. 

 Keep that camera trained on where I say the fish is com- 

 ing up. You're going to see the wildest, bravest fighters 

 in the world." Lou's enthusiasm at sea is boundless, but 

 this time, at least, his words were to seem reasonable 

 enough before the day had ended. 



There were seven of us aboard the Explorer and 

 there promised to be six battle stations. Walter Gorman, 

 the Explorer s captain and an outboard-racing cham- 



