ALBACORA 105 



when the fish moved, I snapped it off. One error, and all 

 — including the amberjack — would be lost. I did not 

 want to excite the fish unduly so I used a gentle coaxing 

 method, with no sudden change of pace, no strain. "Easy- 

 does it," I told myself. We stand up with light tackle, 

 the rod is put in a "belly pad." The strain is on arms, 

 shoulders and legs. The next hour taxed my strength to 

 the limit. This was not the spectacular struggle one has 

 with marlin or albacora. Rather, it was a war of nerves. 

 Lou and Jim between them did not utter ten words to me 

 during the whole time. There was no special turning 

 point. The fish almost fooled me many times with a 

 sudden run which almost caught me with a rigid spool 

 and might have snapped my line. But always there was 

 that priceless fraction of a second for me to recoup or 

 let the line run free. By Jim Hurley's watch, it was 

 exactly one hour and fifty-eight minutes after that first 

 strike when I finally landed the amberjack. 



"What a beauty," Jim said, when we had the fish in 

 the boat. "That must be a record for ten-pound test. 

 Good girl." 



We hurried to port, and the amberjack weighed in at 

 thirty-eight pounds. Jim had been right. My nerves had 

 not been strained in vain. The fish was a world record 

 for the line. 



Then, conforming with the rules of the International 

 Game Fishing Association, I had my line tested and the 

 record collapsed. The line overtested by a few ounces. 



This is what happened to poor Jo Manning's 345- 



