Qualifying in the Three-Six Club 225 



It was after one of these episodes, when the 

 Baron and I had drawn Mexican Joe in the an- 

 gling lottery for launches, and I had paid my 

 three-six tax on line and leader, that my com- 

 panion had a strike that made history, as his- 

 tory goes at the Tuna Club. It came off the 

 point where seas were ever changing into silver, 

 making the air tremble and vibrate. The Baron, 

 as it happened, was not only fastidious as to his 

 sporting ethics, but had standards that excluded 

 the almost preposterous demands of the Three- 

 Six Club. To put himself at a disadvantage in 

 the game of games beyond the question of a 

 doubt, he had cut down his eight-ounce split 

 bamboo trout rod to six feet and was fishing 

 with this whip, with a six-thread line tackle 

 that the average angler on the Atlantic might 

 consider too light for a four-pound weakfish. 

 His intention was the killing of a sixty-three- 

 pound fish, the record held by a Briton being 

 just below it, made a few days previous. 



The strike was of the whirlwind variety, and 

 not to jeopardize the play I reeled in and for 

 five hours watched him make the fight of his 

 life and display the skill and other masterly 

 qualities that have qualified him as a good gen- 

 eral in other fields than angling. At first the 

 fish went for the kelp, but was beaten off; then 

 it circled the boat, then sulked deep in the Kuro 

 Shiwo; then determined to tow us out to sea, 



IS 



