ALBACORA 29 



of plywood. "What happens if he runs at us with that 

 bill?" I shouted to Walt Gorman as my battle with the 

 marlin began. 



"We dodge," Walt shouted back. "We're the ones 

 with the motor." 



At first the marlin seemed to want no part of us. He 

 leapt repeatedly, greyhounding and tail-walking. Then, 

 running out the line, he sounded. I reeled in with as 

 much force as I dared exert on that nine-thread line. 

 The fish suddenly went wild. Rising out of the sea three 

 hundred feet astern, he shot into the air, rocketing 

 straight up more than twice his own length. He hurled 

 himself so high so quickly that he could not bend in time 

 to arch back into a dive. His body hit the ocean with a 

 tremendous splatter. "My God, Walt," I called. "That 

 was a bellywhopper. We've found a bellywhopping 

 marlin." 



Again the fish leapt up beyond all reason and again 

 he hit the surface with a splash. He was closer now and 

 jumping like no fish I had ever seen. Then the marlin 

 came at us. 



"Walt," I shouted. "Dodge. Come on, man. Dodge!" 

 Down low in the water I knew that we were helpless 

 against the powerful bill. All at once I thought of every 

 story I had heard of anglers rammed to death by angry 

 fish. The marlin came closer, closer. "Gun it," I 

 shrieked. "Walt. Get us out of the way." But Walt Gor- 

 man made no move to gun the motor. The marlin leapt 



