FISHING THE PACIFIC 



You get a very slight pause, but you almost always get it. I 

 hooked this fish, the boat was gunned, I struck him and I 

 could feel that he weighed at least 500 or 600 pounds. For 

 about seven minutes he did not show. Then he surfaced and 

 the boys on top yelled "Grande!" At that distance he looked 

 as if he might go 700 pounds. I fought him hard for about 

 thirty-five or forty minutes and he did not jump. After thirty- 

 five minutes they had the leader. The fish was over the stern 

 and the little Peruvian held the gaff over him. I patted the boy 

 on the back and told him to go ahead and gaff the fish— but 

 he was scared by its size— so much so that he could not bring 

 that gaff down. Juan held the leader, the boat had been 

 handled perfectly and I was sure the fish was ready for 

 gaffing. He was hurt. I should have jumped up and gaffed 

 him myself but I could not see getting out of the chair after 

 only a thirty-five-minute fight with a fish that might go 1 000 

 pounds. In a couple of minutes of course he broke loose and 

 started to jump close around the stern. Just as the double line 

 would run off he would greyhound, so I had a wonderful 

 look at him and could see that my crew were greatly im- 

 pressed. 



In the next hour and a half Juan had the leader ten more 

 times. The first three times the fish could easily have been 

 gaffed but again I could not make the boy put the gaff to him 

 and to this day I blame myself more and more for not having 

 got up and done it myself. But I simply thought at the time 

 that I'd wait until the fish died, when getting him aboard 

 would be a simple matter even though the seas were becoming 

 steadily rougher and the swells increasing all the time. 



During this hour and a half he had taken us three or four 



80 



