ALBACORA 9 



pion at one time, agreed to run the outboard on the 

 WaWa, Mario, an Iquique villager, rode along to help 

 with the leader used when the fish was brought along- 

 side. Gus, Mario's brother, climbed to the crow's-nest of 

 the Explorer, the better to look for billfish. Howard 

 Thuet, our fishing guide, took the wheel of the big boat ; 

 Doty, of course, was to take pictures and Lou intended 

 to tell him where, when and at what to shoot. I was the 

 seventh member of the group and for all I could tell 

 my permanent station was the galley. As the only 

 woman aboard, I definitely did not want to make a fuss, 

 but just the same I hadn't traveled halfway down the 

 world to scrub coffee percolators. 



When we were forty miles offshore, I heard Howard 

 call. "Blue water," he shouted. "Looks good." The men 

 rushed up the ladder to the deck. I rushed to finish the 

 breakfast dishes, and I had just about reached the per- 

 colator when I heard another shout. "Hey," Walt Gor- 

 man was yelling. "Hey. Take a look at this sea." I 

 couldn't look from the galley so I ran up the steep steps 

 to the open stern of the Explorer. Before my eyes there 

 stretched a scene of primal violence such as I had never 

 even imagined. 



The ocean was boiling with little fish, anchovies as 

 far as I could tell, which were leaping and splashing 

 and struggling to survive. From above, clouds of vora- 

 cious birds attacked them, but the anchovies could find 

 no safety diving deep. Whales, shaped rather like big 



