58 THE TARPON 



One night in June 1936, I was enjoying excellent fishing at 

 Boca Grande Pass. The time was ten o'clock. The water was 

 smooth, the mosquitoes were absent and since sunrise I had 

 taken four tarpon. All was well and the goose hung high. The 

 lights of the thirty-odd guide boats resembled a distant vil- 

 lage ; but the quiet of the evening was vexed by the shouts of 

 the excited anglers, the splashes of the jumping fish and the 

 roar of the motor boats as they changed positions. Long ex- 

 perience had accustomed me to such sounds and scenes so 

 common in May and June at this paradise for tarpon anglers. 

 But unexpected events were in train. The guide stood near 

 the engine ready for a strike whilst I, rod in hand, sat serenely 

 in the stern chair awaiting what fortune might bring. A boat 

 close by struck a tarpon which jumped near our boat; but that 

 was too common an occurrence to arouse our interest. Sud- 

 denly an apparition shot out of the deep. It was my first im- 

 pression that it was a veritable "Jabberwock with eyes of 

 flame"; but it turned out to be nothing but a seventy-pound 

 tarpon. It struck me on the shoulder and passing close to my 

 head dived to the floor of the boat between my chair and the 

 rail, a measured distance of only thirteen inches. Its next 

 move was to break the watch on my wrist and to smash the 

 searchlight on the chair in front of me. The boat carried a 

 large fire extinguisher securely lashed to the shaft of the steer- 

 ing wheel. The fish broke this loose and tipped it over. The 

 extinguisher, although taken by surprise, promptly went into 

 action, thereby adding to our troubles. The tarpon then flap- 

 ped its way forward, looking, as my guide afterward asserted, 

 for some Budweiser beer which we carried in the bow. The 

 boat was spattered with blood, scales, slime and feces. The 

 noise made by the flopping, jumping fish and the commotion 

 in our boat excited the mirth of everyone nearby but we could 

 not bring ourselves to share their point of view. Finally, my 

 guide, after wrestling with the fish awhile, threw it overboard, 

 still fast to the hook of the angler who had struck it. 



