76 Big Game Fishes 



away and towed us four miles south, occasionally 

 stopping to rush in, and once carried us out into 

 rough water, towing the boat stern first against 

 the heavy seaway so rapidly that I expected to 

 see her fill ; but by sheer good luck I turned the 

 fish, and at the end of four hours brought it to 

 gaff. Slowly it circled the boat and for the first 

 time we saw that the fish was what we had 

 suspected, of unusual size. As it slowly swam 

 along, its big back of a deep blue, its white belly 

 occasionally gleaming as it turned, its finarettes 

 flashing gold, it presented a magnificent spec- 

 tacle, a compensation for the hardest struggle I 

 had ever made. Nearer it came, then it was 

 turned at the quarter, the boatman's gaff slid 

 beneath, and the big hook struck home. It was a 

 clever gaff, but with a tremendous surge the tuna 

 sounded, shivering the handle in the gaffer's 

 hands, and was away taking the wreck with 

 it. Fortunately I stopped the rush, and a few 

 moments later again had the tuna alongside. 

 This time a new gaff held it, the gamy creature, 

 never conquered, never discouraged, lashing the 

 water, hurling it over us, a last defiance. A 

 nervous gaffer would have lost the fish at this 

 stage, but the boatman held fast, and stepping 



