The American Ans'lcr 



hard to handle; but I was out for blood, 

 and I got it, but not any tarpon blood. 



Fermin had been rowing for about 

 half -an -hour when I suggested that he 

 drop the anchor and roll a cigarette, 

 for like all Mexicans and many Ameri- 

 cans, he liked that method of using 

 tobacco. Hardly had the boat stopped 

 when I felt that indescribable twitch 

 that tells the angler his bait has been 

 taken. After waiting a moment I 

 struck the fish, which gave a pretty 

 little fight before being landed. As I 

 drew it up to the boat I was disap- 

 pointed to see that it was a large sea 

 catfish. But Fermin was delighted. 



" Catfish is good, so good," he said, 

 ** I like them better 'an redfish or 

 trout." So we kept him. After bait- 

 ing the hook again, this time with a 

 silvery skip-jack about 7 inches long, 

 we started in again. For another half 

 hour Fermin pulled the boat half 

 against the wind, and then he slackened 

 up again to roll another cigarette, and 

 I started to join him. I laid the pole 

 down and had just taken the tobacco 

 bag in my hand when Fermin said: 

 "You've got a bite! " 



I looked at my line and sure enough 

 it was circling around the boat out into 

 the deep water. To grasp the rod and 

 gently but firmly strike the hook into 

 the fish's mouth was the work of an 

 instant. No need to tell me I had a 

 big one. The way that reel sang and 

 tip-dipped was assurance enough. He 

 ran away with considerable line before 

 I stopped him, and then he sulked in 

 about 14 feet of water. For a few min- 

 utes he positively refused to move, and 

 then he began in a line that set my 

 nerves on fire. He would run a few 

 yards and then stop and jerk against 

 the line. Every time I felt that snap 

 of the line I thought the fish was cfone. 



He seemed to be using his tail as a 

 pivot and swinging clear around, first 

 one way and then the other, endeavor- 

 ing to jerk the hook from his mouth by 

 main force. A steady pressure on the 

 line started him again, and this time he 

 came to the surface, showing his broad 

 tail seventy-five feet away. Fermin, 

 who was intently watching for the fish, 

 exclaimed: " Bully, big bull redfish! " 

 but I thought he was too big and game 

 to be a redfish. 



Through some oversight we had for- 

 gotten the gaff, and so I asked Fermin 

 to pull up to the beach, where we could 

 land our catch. When the boat struck 

 the bar I immediately jumped out and 

 proceeded to draw the still fighting fish 

 up into shallow water. Just as I felt 

 sure of him Fermin jumped into the 

 water, splashing it with both hands and 

 feet and calling out: " Look out for the 

 shark! " And there it was. I could see 

 a big black triangular fin coming 

 straight for my fish, which was still too 

 full of fight to be drawn out. I drew 

 the fish as close to the bank as I could, 

 and as I did so, I saw that black fin 

 shoot down. There was a mighty swirl 

 in the water, discoloring it with — sand, 

 and then, with heart in mouth, I saw 

 Fermin reach down and draw out my 

 redfish safe and whole. 



When we drew alongside the lola 

 with our fish there was great rejoicing. 

 We could not weigh him, but he was 

 44 inches long with a girth of 27 inches. 



In the evening the wind had fallen 

 somewhat and the bay was smoother, 

 so Will and the Steward decided to try 

 their luck. They started out full of 

 hopes, but they met with disappoint- 

 ment. Hardly 100 yards from the lola 

 before I saw that the steward had a 

 fish. It was a tarpon, too, and he had 

 no more than cleared the water, before 



