148 DAYS STOLEN FOK SPORT 



was fast in a weighty fish whose rush compelled 

 him to give line much against his will, but he gave 

 it only when his rod was bent to a half-circle, and 

 then so grudgingly that the movement of the boat 

 kept the fish from off the bottom. It was a fight 

 that tested the rod, line, and fisher, but it ended in 

 the fish, thirteen pounds in weight, being gaffed 

 and lifted aboard to the joy of its captor. 



Dusk came suddenly and with it, fortunately, a 

 moon that increased in lustre, as it was needed to 

 give sufficient light for the steersman to keep clear 

 of the many rocks, whose shapes and positions 

 seemed changed, to me, in the altered light, and to 

 make doubly sure of safety, we kept farther out in 

 deeper water. 



Almost as suddenly as the change of light came 

 sport in earnest. Our boats seemed to be in the 

 midst of a great shoal of pilchards that noisily 

 beat the surface of the water in mad efforts to 

 escape pursuing pollack, which, as mad themselves 

 in the joys of feasting, added to the noise with 

 furious splashes. Into this seething the three 

 fishers let down their " Natural Spin " baits lures 

 had been changed at the coming of darkness and 

 found eager takers. So close were the fish that 

 only a few yards of line were necessary to reach 

 them, and the fishers had the chance of mastering 

 them before they could get back to the depths from 

 which they had risen. This was fortunate for it 

 happened more than once that the three were 

 struggling at the same time with fish that would 

 need the gaff. 



The most glorious moments are the shortest ; a 

 cloudy curtain threatened to shut off the grand 



