ALBACORA 159 



out a big splash of his tail. It was almost as if the 

 albacora had been through this exercise before, as if he 

 knew there was no danger so long as he spurned the 

 bait and gently slipped beneath the surface. It was al- 

 most as if this albacora was Bosco. 



"Damn it," I said. "We'd better find ourselves an- 

 other billfish." 



"Mario," Lou said. "Look sharp. Everybody. Keep 

 your eyes open. He'll come up somewhere around us. 

 He won't stay down for long." 



Usually it was Mario, from his vantage point on the 

 mast, who saw the billfish first. As I watched with my 

 own slightly myopic eyes, I kept listening for his tenor 

 voice to snap us to attention. "Fish," someone shouted. 

 "There he is. Way off to port." The voice was sharp. 

 I turned around. It was Howard who had cried out. 

 He was pointing toward a spot far off to one side. Then 

 I saw the fins, too. Walt was bringing the Explorer 

 around. 



"I'm going to circle wider this time," Walt called 

 down. "I want to give him plenty of room." 



"If he sounds again, you can forget him," Lou said 

 to me. 



The bait trailed out and drifted slowly toward the 

 albacora's path. The huge black fins cut through the 

 sea of glass and drew concentric whorls of ripples. The 

 bait bobbed before the albacora now. Then it was past 

 him, drifting to one side. 



