The Great Tunnies 



not be larger than a 21-strand, and 600 or 700 feet is enough. 

 The hook either a Van Vleck or a number 9-0 O'Shaughnessy, 

 should have a piano-wire leader 5 or 6 feet in length. The 

 bait, a flying-fish, and you are ready for the game. Your boat- 

 man is ready for you at six, the lunch is stowed and you pull 

 out into Avalon Bay over the glass-like sea. The east is a blaze 

 of red, and the placid waters reflect it and the rocks of the pre- 

 cipitous shore. Behind the town that climbs the slopes the moun- 

 tains reach upward until lost in vagrant fog-masses of burnished 

 silver. The air is soft, like velvet on the cheek, and there is a 

 crispness in the morning strangely at variance with the palms 

 and bananas which top the neighbouring knoll. As your boat- 

 man shoves off and clears the beach, he fastens on the big 3- 

 pound flying-fish, the natural food of the tuna, and you gradually 

 pay out until 60, or perhaps 80 feet of line have gone, then 

 fitting the butt of your rod into the leather cap fastened to the 

 seat, rest your thumb upon the leather brake and begin the 

 waiting, which is a part of fishing the world over. 



"But it happens, as it often does, that there is no waiting. 

 'Jim' whispers 'Look out, sir,' and you turn your head to see 

 3 or 4 flying-fish coming through the air, flushed by the unseen 

 tuna. The blood starts through your veins; your companion, 

 who perchance has never caught a tuna, turns pale and trembles 

 and thinks of the buck fever, recognizing the symptoms; one 

 flying-fish passes over the boat, you duck your head to avoid 

 it, and then soars directly over your bait, and then a mass of 

 white, silvery foam leaps upward. There is a blaze of silver, 

 then loud musical notes, z-e-e-e, z-e-e-e, z-e-e-e, rise on the air 

 as the splendid reel gives tongue, and the fight is on. The tuna 

 turns and rushes seaward, tearing at the line, taking feet, yards, 

 and has 500 feet of line, perhaps, before the boatman has his 

 boat under sternway, and then begins the contest, ranging, ac- 

 cording to the individuals, from ten minutes to fourteen hours. 

 At times the game rushes down into the deep channel; again 

 it plays entirely on the surface, varying the performance by re- 

 peated rushes at the boat, to turn and dart away ^gain to the 

 melodious clicking of the reel. 



"It is big game in every sense of the word, and those who 

 enjoy it are the man and woman who like to face the big game 

 of the forest and mountains. 1 have seen a fish weighing but 



