ALBACORA 45 



with a splash of his tail fin. The boat must move slowly 

 now and the reel must be in free-spool so that the bait 

 meets no resistance as it swims. The albacora whams 

 out with his bill. "Strike," the fisherman shouts and 

 quickly throws his loop into the sea. Now the angler 

 sits at attention, watching the reel and waiting for the 

 big fish to pick up the bait. Again the albacora whams, 

 but he is more a killer than a feeder. The boat is out of 

 gear, just sitting on the surface, waiting, and the alba- 

 cora lashes at the bait, occasionally toying with it, or 

 torturing it, if you will. The boat is stonily silent. 

 Everyone watches the angler in the stern. Slowly line 

 runs from the reel — ten, fifteen, twenty-five feet. It is 

 too early for the angler to know whether the albacora 

 is on the hook. More line runs off, still slowly. The quiet 

 grows heavy and the fisherman waits. Then the line 

 starts to run out in swift, erratic bursts. The reel whirls 

 round at a suddenly faster speed. Now the angler knows. 

 "Strike," he cries. The albacora is making a run. The 

 captain throws the boat into gear and starts to move full 

 speed ahead. The fisherman's line grows taut and he 

 strikes again and again with all his strength. But the 

 albacora has felt the taut line. He realizes he is hooked. 

 All hell breaks loose. 



Since albacora would rather kill than feed, it is al- 

 most impossible to hook one in the mouth. When the 

 albacora whams at the bait with his bill, hooks often 

 snag him in the fins or in the tail. Fish hooked like this 



