48 ALBACORA 



"Fine," Lou said, grinning, "and don't bother about 

 going to sleep. As soon as you're through, come back 

 to this dock and we'll be ready to take off again." 



Rivas laughed, the Mayor moved in to start congrat- 

 ulations, and Walt Gorman began setting up a cross- 

 beam on the dock so that the five fish could be hung for 

 a big picture. I left them all at the dock and hurried 

 down the pier toward the town. 



Iquique, an ideal port, had flourished when the de- 

 mand for nitrates was higher some twenty years ago, 

 before synthetic fertilizers were developed. It languishes 

 somewhat now, although it does have a splendid fish 

 cannery called Pescadora d'lquique, which is partly 

 owned by an American company. The streets of Iquique 

 are showing signs of renewed life. Walking the few 

 blocks uphill to our hotel, I passed a good many people, 

 but I was thinking only that I wanted to sleep and 

 wanted to do a lot more fishing. I was feeling very 

 happy. Luis Rivas' enthusiasm was strong enough to 

 make me feel that I had helped accomplish something 

 that might really be worth while. I didn't delude myself. 

 I'm a fishwife, not Madame Curie, and science or not, 

 the bigger the fish I catch, the better I like it. But it 

 was pleasant to believe that all the years I had devoted 

 to a sport were bringing forth at least a little fruit. 

 The next six weeks, I hoped, would be rewarding. 



At the Hotel Prat, I ran up the stairs to what was 



