The Halibut 367 



up a stray white sea-bass ; hence, was ready for 

 the sport, and while I reeled in, the boatman 

 backed into the surf as far as safety permitted, 

 and held the boat head on to the not high seas, 

 shooting ahead when they threatened to break, to 

 drop back when they passed, allowing me to drop 

 my small bait directly in the storm centre along- 

 shore. On the instant came the strike, and as 

 the light boat went careening over a breaking 

 sea, I hooked the fish and presently was playing 

 it from a fairly smooth vantage ground. My 

 boatman suggested large rock-bass, but I was 

 positive I had seen a flat tail waved in the air, 

 and my inference was correct as a halibut came 

 fluttering along the surface with a curious undu- 

 lating movement for a moment, as though led 

 by a line; then realizing that it was hooked, it 

 plunged down and ran away with my line while 

 the reel made wild music, ran away so effectually 

 that I thought it would be exhausted, dashing by 

 the kelp bed, disdaining this refuge which the 

 black sea-bass always affects, and swimming for 

 open water to make a splendid play, surging on 

 the line that hissed like a knife as it cut the 

 surface now deep in the heart of the waters, 

 rising with a singular bounding motion to encircle 



