FISHING AT HOME AND ABROAD 



again; he flashes past you quite close and, having seen the boat, makes a 

 terrific rush along the top of the water. Meanwhile the boatman rows after 

 him so as to avoid disaster if the fish should make a very long run. How- 

 ever, after taking out perhaps a hundred yards, he goes to the bottom 

 and sulks, trying those horrible jigging tactics which all fishermen know 

 and fear. By dint of arduous labour you have got back a good deal of your 

 line. Suddenly you see a gleam far below. Now is the moment to take 

 great care. As yet he is far from being exhausted and, as soon as he is 

 near the surface, another rush is certain. He may sulk again or run along 

 the surface, and end by jumping clean out of the water, four feet and a half 

 of shining silver. Gradually he becomes exhausted and more amenable. 

 All going well, your boatman will soon be able to get out the long-handled 

 gaff, which weapon is much better than the short one usually sold in 

 British Columbia, and, waiting his opportunity, bury it in the fish's side 

 and drag him into the boat. 



Having killed the fish with a club — ^the " priest " — you can rest your 

 arms, which will assuredly be aching from the effort to keep the point 

 of the rod a decent heig'ht from the water. After exchanging mutual con- 

 gratulations with the boatman, you try to estimate the weight of your 

 fish, on which subject your gillie is sure to be pessimistic — and usually 

 right. 



Now try again, perhaps to have another glorious quarter of an hour, 

 perhaps, misery of miseries, to have the hook come away just as the fish 

 is beaten and your boatman is thinking of the gaff. This happened to me 

 a year or two ago, three times in succession in twenty-four hours, all, 

 needless to say, being big fish. Even now it is a ghastly memory. 



At about half-past seven or eight, the tide being on the ebb, you row 

 home to your yacht, wash, and have breakfast. After that, a pipe and a 

 snooze. At low tide, which on this particular day would be about eleven 

 or twelve, you sally forth again, not expecting much luck, and probably 

 being justified. All the afternoon the tide floods too strongly for fishing. 

 Perhaps if energetic enough you try up the river for trout; if lazy, sleep 

 or yarn. About five, the tide slackens, and you troll till after dusk. A big 

 fish, hooked as it is getting dark, gives the sportsman a lively time, and 

 the tyee has all the best of the odds. Supper at nine, and, after a pipe, you 

 are glad to tumble into bed and dream of the monster fish you lost. Days 

 and luck vary, of course, but the foregoing is a fair sample. 



Goho salmon and an occasional spring will be caught also when fishing 

 86 



