ALBACORA 165 



had advertised the night before. Lou stayed at the ra- 

 diotelephone, trying to contact the Marlin, He finally 

 succeeded in reaching someone in Iquique. 



"Mrs. Marron caught an albacora," Lou roared. 

 "Get hold of the derrick and weighmaster. We'll be 

 in at about five o'clock." 



A crowd was waiting when we reached the dock. 

 Next to the derrick that hauled him from the boat, my 

 albacora looked small. 



"He certainly isn't Bosco," I said to Lou. "He isn't 

 really much of a fish after all." 



"He's a record. Genie," Lou insisted. 



Lou helped string the albacora up for weighing, cas- 

 ually, as though he knew that what he had said was fact. 

 Then, on the scale, my fish weighed in at 778 pounds. 

 They cut him down and weighed the rope. It weighed 

 only six pounds. My albacora weighed 772 pounds. It 

 was the biggest swordfish any woman had ever caught 

 and the biggest any man or woman ever caught on 

 twenty-four-thread line. 



Hedley posed me next to my record albacora and 

 asked me to smile prettily. I broke into a grin without 

 thinking of my tooth. When I remembered, I pursed my 

 lips to hide the hole. My grin turned gummy, like the 

 smile of a seven-year-old. 



"Smile," Doty insisted, "as though you meant it." 



"I mean it," I said grimly. 



*'You'll look unhappy in the picture." 



