FISHES OF THE PACIFIC COAST 25 



tip. I never did so many things at once in my life. 

 We were headed out to sea, but suddenly the tuna 

 turned and swam directly inshore, swimming stead- 

 ily for a mile; then, worried by persistent pumping, 

 which consists in lifting the fish with thumb on the 

 drag as high as possible, getting it in a foot, then 

 dropping the point and reeling for your life, it rose 

 to the surface with a vibrant thrill on the line, hit the 

 surface with a swirl, as though to get its bearings, then 

 came at the boat along the surface like a shot out of 

 a gun. It was a magnificent play. Jim and I sprang 

 to our feet and watched it, I reeling desperately, totally 

 unable to get in the slack, reeling, perhaps, from habit. 

 The tuna came within ten feet of the boat, then turned 

 in a cloud of spume that drenched us, and dashed off. 

 I can only compare it to a flip across the face with a 

 glove a challenge to mortal combat, which we had 

 accepted an hour and a half before. 



I stopped the fish before it took all the line, then 

 commenced again the heart-breaking task of reeling it 

 in. At times I could not turn the handle of the reel, 

 could not make an inch, could only press my half- 

 paralyzed thumb on the leather brake and hold on to 

 the rod. Now the tuna was thrashing about on the 

 surface, turning the blue sea into silver filigree; now 

 it plunged into the depths, making the reel cry out; 

 then it would come up to one side and whirl around 

 the boat as though chased by a shark. 



There was no trick known to fishes this splendid 

 game did not play in its effort to beat us, to wear us 

 down; but of all them, I think the rush in of two or 

 three hundred feet was the most sensational, as, every 

 time it came, I wanted to swing my hat and cheer the 



