214 WILD SPORTS IN THE SOUTH. 



The next day, with a new supply of little mullet, and provisions 

 for staying out all day, we rowed down to one of the little inlets 

 that are formed by Gasperilla Island. The day was quiet, and 

 only the faintest breeze ruffled the sea, gulls on the water loomed 

 large as swans, and the cocoa-nut palms on a distant island stood 

 up in the sky with the mirage. 



" Hi da, maussa, see," whispered my paddler behind me, and 

 following the direction of his eye, the tall sharp fin of the fish we 

 were seeking cut slowly this way and that the surface of the water. 

 Our canoe drifted slowly towards him, and, casting the line, the 

 bait dropped a dozen feet ahead of the fish. The fish's fin paused 

 in its motion : I drew the bait towards me. My hand trembling 

 with excitement doubtless lent naturalness to the motion. The fin 

 subsided beneath the water, and in an instant the line was seen 

 running out. I threw back the rod heavily and felt the weight of 

 the fish, and he, feeling the hook, dashed away with a yell from the 

 negro behind me. " Yah — ha ! he gume off, and a hook in he mouf 

 sure." My slim rod bent with the strain, and the canoe followed 

 rapidly, so that it saved some line. In a moment after the fish 

 made his first jump. Up like a big plate of silver he shot in the 

 air, lifting his whole line from the water, and then with a thwack 

 fell back and started again on his race. How the line thrilled 

 through the water ! How my heart beat in the race ! Then again 

 came his leap, not so high this time, and straight away, — a water 

 spout — a flash of a gun — a spirit — a mirror — all of these at once ! 

 Back he went into the sea, and my line came in parted ; my 

 hands fell limp at my side, shame covered me, and darkness was 

 upon the face of the deep. 



"0 Gorra mighty maussa, he's guone !" quoth Jeptha the 

 boatman. 



If it hadn't been for the boatman I would have cried, and when 

 Poke called from the neighbouring boat, " Whare, oh, whare are 

 the Hebrew children ? " I was angry. 



We caught other tarpon since then, but I am convinced that 

 there never was one so large, so strong, or with such a resplendent 

 coat of silver mail ever fast to a fisherman's line since that day. 



The tarpon runs up to two hundred pounds in weight. One 



