INCIDENTS IN TUNA FISHING 55 



being cast at the luscious fresh flying-fish dragged 

 across their mouths. Can this be the same fish that 

 yesterday turned the quiet bay into a maelstrom, 

 rushed at anything, and ravished the quiet waters; 

 the fish that bounded ten feet into the air, an insatiate 

 creature, killing for the mere gratification? 



It is such qualities that make the tuna profitable 

 game. When it is said that its flesh is palatable, and 

 that no specimens are wasted on the Pacific Coast, 

 the story of the fish is told; and we may see it strike, 

 and follow it on untfl the gaff is driven home and the 

 tuna fairly bagged. 



I fished for the tuna many years before I caught 

 one. I have tried for it in the Atlantic along the 

 New England towns, where you may see the crescent- 

 shaped tail nailed onto the roof of the fish-house as 

 a sign of good luck. I have fished in California, 

 repeatedly lost lines, tips, and have seen another land 

 the first fish; yet the solace came when I brought in 

 one day what appeared to be the limit of angling 

 (rod and reel) possibflities. We pushed out one morn- 

 ing, a friend and I, on a glass-like sea. The east, 

 over the Sierra Madre, was a rich vermilion, and the 

 waters of the bay seemed to reflect it in the centre, 

 while along the shores there were purple shadows melt- 

 ing into green, the colors and tints of the sea grass 

 and weed that in bands and zones covers the bottom 

 of the bay of delights. We had rods weighing sixteen 

 ounces, seven and a half feet long, Vom Hofe silver 

 and rubber reels, splendid machines, made with all 

 the care of a watch, and holding six hundred feet of 

 twenty-one-thread line wet. The leader was of piano 

 wire, about seven feet long; and for six feet more, the 



