256 THE SALT OF MY LIFE 



policy dictates, and now comes the making of the 

 groundbait. This is a mixture of tunny and sweet 

 potato (a convolvulus), and it must be chopped 

 on a board when the boat is anchored over the 

 fishing grounds and not before. The noise of 

 this chopping reaches us over the water from 

 boats all around, and the fishermen have the firm- 

 est belief that the orchestra of choppers has the 

 same effect on the mackerel as the nasal cry of the 

 muezzin on true believers. John, or Manoel (every 

 fisherman on the island will answer to either name, 

 or to both, for a few reis) is busy pounding up the 

 bait, while Manoel, or John, gets ready the cane 

 rods and reluctantly obeys orders, and removes 

 from two of them the blunt native hooks, for 

 which we propose substituting a couple of 

 stripped sea-trout flies from A. K. M.'s bulging 

 fly-book. 



The sea is beautifully smooth, and the tide, 

 diminishing every moment, runs to the eastward. 

 Surely, the use of tunny as bait for mackerel is 

 setting a whale to catch a sprat ! A little of the 

 groundbait is flung over the side, and on each hook 

 is impaled a little cube of tunny, after which the 

 tackle is lowered in the water, rod and all going 

 under. Local practice decrees that the rod shall 

 be held point downwards below the surface, and 

 this, with some doubts, we do. Presently, there 

 is a tweak at my bait. I strike, and not being 



