SEA FISHING 



at the oars has not meanwhile been idle. To be quite frank, his manage- 

 ment of the boat is as necessary to success as the other's handling of his 

 rod, and without his skilled and intelligent co-operation in a game that 

 has no written rules, but that calls for resource in emergency as every 

 fresh difficulty arises, success would not be possible. True, the guide's 

 one object, in Pass fishing at any rate, is to manoeuvre his skiff to the 

 beach. This must, however, be done with tact and judgment, allowing 

 for the sudden rush that gives no warning, or for the equally unexpected 

 intervention of a shark, no unusual visitor in those waters. The guide 

 must, in short, have a very intimate and varied experience of the way in 

 which tarpon behave, when hooked, under all manner of circumstances. 

 One moment he must row ahead like one possessed, the next he may 

 have to rest on his oars or even to back water. Then, when the boat is in 

 the shallows and the fish nearly beat, he must leap out, gafF in hand (if 

 the barbarous mode of galling is favoured), and be ready to snatch the 

 fish as it goes past him and to haul it high and dry. This part of his duties 

 the average guide performs with least satisfaction, making futile stabs 

 that merely frighten the fish and inspire still more desperate efforts 

 at escape. Yet it should be remembered that the man's task is none of 

 the easiest, since, apart from error on the part of the man behind the 

 rod, he has to deal with an enormous and surprisingly active fish. It 

 will be welcome news when we hear that the gaffing of tarpon has been 

 given up altogether. All the fun goes out of the game once the splendid 

 fish is at the end of its tether, and there must be far greater satisfaction 

 in being generous to such an adversary and letting it live. I may, per- 

 haps, be called a reformed rake in tendering such counsel, but it should 

 in fairness be allowed that, at the time when I fished for tarpon at Boca 

 Grande, no one had dreamt of such clemency, and it was not, indeed, until 

 looking back on the carnage, long after the excitement had subsided, that 

 the alternative occurred to me, to be still further commended by the 

 experiences of Mr Dimock and his son, whose bloodless sport with tarpon 

 is so artistically recorded with pen and camera. 



Strange things happen in the Pass. One afternoon I hooked what seemed 

 from its weight to be an immense tarpon. As I had already a fish of 140 

 pounds on the beach since lunch, a second prize the same day seemed 

 too much to expect but the strength with which the unseen fought left 

 no room for doubt. The end came suddenly, and the monster gave up the 

 fight and allowed itself to be reeled in without offering further resistance. 



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