222 Recreations of a Sportsman 



smash z-e-e-e-e-e! There in no other word for 

 it. 



Four or five launches are about us, and every 

 angler has a fish, every rod split bamboo, iron- 

 wood, green heart is bent to the angle of despair. 

 Men are reeling, slacking, giving under protest, 

 laughing, hailing comrades to call their attention 

 to the magnificent play of the fish on the surface. 

 The air rings with excitement, and men are put 

 to the limit of muscular endeavor to stem the 

 extraordinary action of these hard fighters. The 

 slightest mistake, error of judgment, too great 

 pressure of thumbstall on the line, and the 

 thread will break; or, if the fish succeeds in 

 rushing off six hundred feet, or so, of the twelve 

 hundred on the reel, the pressure of the water, 

 they say, will break it; hence eternal vigilance is 

 necessary. 



The moments slip by. Some fish break away; 

 others dive into the kelp, but three are making 

 for deep water and slowly tow the boats off- 

 shore out to sea where the east side of the great 

 crater is supposed to have dropped ages ago. 

 The fish have changed their tactics and are deep 

 in the channel, head-down, to come up, circle, 

 and plunge again until routed out perhaps by 

 a shark. 



Near us a great clot of lava has reached out 

 into the sea an index finger, and over this the 

 great seas roll, a menace to small craft. By 



