Fighting a Swordfish at Night 17 



and our camp. When the end came we were a 

 long way out to sea to the northeast of the camp. 

 I sighted the signal bonfire on the beach made 

 by Governor Pardee, after following the angler 

 about an hour, and the swordfish took the skiff 

 rapidly by it, going always to the north, in long, 

 well-sustained spurts of speed, during which I 

 fancy there was little to do but hold on, and 

 dodge the flying spume. 



Xo angler ever had a better boatman. Mexi- 

 can Joe was in the fight to win. Good judg- 

 ment, skill, endurance, and an underlying love 

 for the sport, were his qualifications, and all 

 through the fight he managed the skiff in a mas- 

 terly manner, avoiding the seas, easing her over 

 the waves, pushing, backing her after the flying 

 fish, when opportunity offered, forcing the light 

 boat astern so that the angler could gain a little 

 line. 



What impressed me was the strength of the 

 fish, the remarkable speed at which it was tow- 

 ing them against a heavy sea, and the mysterious 

 manner in which they eluded me; they seemed 

 to be continually swallowed up by the night. 



Suddenly, as I was chasing them, or going in 

 the direction in which I saw them disappear, I 

 heard a shout of elation from Pinchot. " We 've 

 got him alongside ! " 



The wind was blowing the sea high and toss- 

 ing us about. But Joaquin, my plucky lookout, 



