314 MODERN SEA FISHING 



CHAPTER IX 



THE OCEAN FISHING ROD 



A GOOD ship is steadily ploughing her way through that mari- 

 time oven known as the Red Sea. Under the shade of the 

 awning passengers in varying degrees of exhaustion are lying in 

 deck chairs. There is a slight breeze, but it follows the vessel 

 and is not felt. A few white clouds now and again pass across 

 and obscure the sun. It is too hot for deck quoits ; too hot 

 for that wearying constitutional ; too hot for talking, or think- 

 ing even ; almost too hot for flirtation. Suddenly there is the 

 jangle of a bell, and all these apparently inanimate forms come 

 to life, dart to the side of the ship and stand gazing at the 

 wake of the vessel ; that is, all except the poor fellow invalided 

 by Indian fevers and agues, who remains lying listlessly in his 

 deck chair. 



Standing out from the ship's side is a huge bamboo pole, 

 forty feet in length, bending double under the weight of a 

 great fish which is splashing and twisting on the surface some 

 sixty yards astern. The captain, who has been dozing in his 

 bunk, is called, and, after the manner of sailors, wakes up in a 

 fraction of a second and turns out. He and the first mate run 

 to a light line fastened to the taffrail, the other end of which is 

 attached to the stout fishing line a few yards below the point 

 of the rod. The rod itself is not touched, for it would require 

 a very Goliath of a man to wield it ; but by clever gearing 

 it rises and falls, playing by its own weight the coryphene 



