ALBACORA 43 



fooling me. The marlin were fine, but we'd come out for 

 albacora. 



People who are only casually acquainted with deep- 

 sea fishing usually think that marlin are the finest of 

 big-game fish. In action, the marlin is an eye-catcher. 



On the sports pages of the Sunday newspapers and 

 on television sport shorts, the angler in the picture al- 

 most always struggles with a high-jumping, back-flip- 

 ping marlin. Nowhere in the ocean is there an acrobat 

 to match the marlin, but actually there is a great deal 

 more to outmaneuvering an angler than mere jumping. 

 The marlin is the flashiest of fighters and pound for 

 pound one of the most determined. However, he is usu- 

 ally a surface fighter and often helps the fisherman by 

 jumping himself into exhaustion. Men and women who 

 have roamed the fishing waters of the world never scoff 

 at marlin, but neither do they hold the fish in awe. To 

 the oldest fishing pros and to the smartest fishing ama- 

 teurs, albacora, the broadbill swordfish, is the prize of 

 all prizes. Hooking and catching an albacora is an art 

 set apart. It is the most involved, complex and intricate 

 feat in the whole great sport of fishing. 



Generally, the man in the crow's-nest spots the broad- 

 bill first as they swim just under the water's surface, 

 dorsal and tail fins sticking up above the waves like 

 sickles. After one shout of "Albacora," the crew of a 

 fishing boat flies into frantic activity, perhaps as whalers 



