28 ALBACORA 



the world suddenly opening out before us. In the dis- 

 tance the beckoning horizon, the fisherwoman's wedding 

 ring, lay still, steadfast and enduring. No, this was not 

 frightening after all. It was exalting. 



But we had come out for marlin, and as Walt slowed 

 the little boat, I set about preparing my fishing rig. 

 Walt turned us into a fine trolling position, where the 

 bait would be certain to cut across the marlin's line of 

 vision. The marlin were behind us now, their sharp fins 

 cutting clean and straight through the busy waters. Walt 

 Gorman is not an emotional man, but something moved 

 him very deeply for that moment. 



"Lord," he said, and his voice was a little strained. 

 "What a sight!" 



Occasionally well-fed marlin make themselves diffi- 

 cult by spurning bait, but these fish must have been 

 starving. I never even had to drop my bait back after the 

 first marlin struck it. He tore off with it at a breakneck 

 clip. My hook was a spur to fury in his mouth, and he 

 rocketed off so swiftly that I had to loosen the drag of 

 my reel to keep my line from snapping. He leapt high, 

 cutting across the hazy sky in a long, graceful arc, his 

 body lustrous blue and silver under the pale winter sun. 

 I watched the marlin jump and jump again. He burned 

 up the reel and we burned up the motor. Then I tightened 

 my drag and w^ent to work. 



As I rode in the WaWa, I was perched so close to the 

 water that I might just as well have been riding a slab 



