118 ALBACORA 



"Lou," I shouted, "have you been feeding the birds?" 



"The fishing's been pretty good," he shouted back. 

 "Remember how the birds came back with us? Well, 

 now we can't go anywhere without them for a convoy. 

 They're all around us all the time." 



When I arose from the chair to get a look at how 

 many were flying low directly ahead of us, I found that 

 with my painful trip to the boat came mobility I had 

 not anticipated. The Explorer was full of stanchions 

 and little platforms. There was something on which to 

 lean at practically ever point aboard; I couldn't walk 

 but I could hobble. 



When I set about capitalizing on my new independ- 

 ence and investigating the condition of the ship, I passed 

 Mario as he was chattering excitedly to Walt Gorman. 

 The Spanish was too quick for my ears, but fortunately 

 Walt translated for Lou. 



"He says to try it up to the north today," Walt said. 

 "A lot of commercial fishermen came in from Pisagua 

 last night and they had a helluva catch of albacora." 



"How far is Pisagua?" I asked. 



"About forty miles up the coast," Walt said. 



"Let's go," Lou said. "Then, if the fishing is hot we 

 can camp up there all night and get a good start out 

 of Pisagua itself tomorrow." 



"What's the matter with Iquique, Lou?" I asked. 



"Listen," Lou said. "We're going to get an albacora 

 this trip. We're not just going to keep on settling for 

 marlin." 



