ALBACORA 129 



Then it stopped. I struck at once, and the line went 

 taut. 



"Boat ahead," I called. 



I struck and struck again as hard as I could. 



"Sock him, Genie," Walt called from the bridge. 



"Careful!" Lou reminded. "That line can only take 

 fifty pounds." 



"I know," I called. "I know." 



The tension of the reel surged through my hands and 

 into my body. The fish was lunging away from the boat, 

 and the reel was screaming. 



"Watch it," Howard said. 



He meant the friction. With tackle that light, just 

 the friction in the water caused by an albacora's frantic 

 run might be enough to burn clean through the line. 



Walt turned the Explorer toward the albacora, and 

 I released the drag on the line. The boat sped down on 

 the fish and I reeled in rapidly, trying to keep the line 

 taut without straining it to its breaking point. 



"That baby must run seven hundred pounds," Lou 

 shouted as we neared the fish. 



Ordinarily albacora do not leap and play the role of 

 greyhound as marlin frequently do, but this was not an 

 ordinary situation. The drag the albacora felt was so 

 light the big fish must have thought he could leap free. 

 He shot clear of the water, arched his big streamlined 

 body, and banged down again into the choppy water. 



Hedley Doty had stayed in the background all morn- 



