The High Leapers 



The flying-fishes were on the surface, and the big 

 game were charging them, churning the blue ocean 

 and beating the still waters into foam that formed 

 a white area acres in extent. In all probability, other 

 tunas were swimming some distance beneath the sur- 

 face, and these were the leapers. Sighting a flying- 

 fish they would charge upward and, missing it, dash 

 into the air at an angle of sixty degrees, go up, and 

 up, like a gleaming arrow, then with perfect grace 

 turn, and for a tenth of a second hang a horizontal 

 bar of silver and flashing yellow one hundred or 

 three hundred pounds of animation; then the head 

 would drop and the tuna would fall into the sea 

 without perceptible splash, having formed a perfect 

 curve. The tunas were everywhere in air. I ex- 

 pected one to drop into the boat, when the experi- 

 ence of Senator Quay might have been repeated, in 

 which a tarpon went completely through the boat; 

 but nothing of the kind occurred, and I stood on the 

 seat at least twelve inches from the water, and saw 

 fishes five or six feet long turn almost as high again 

 as my head; so I believe I am within the bounds by 

 stating that I saw tunas fifteen feet in air. I have 

 seen flying-fishes at least thirty feet in air, but blown 

 there by a sudden gust of wind. 



These lines are written between attempts on the 

 Santa Cruz and Capitola coast, California, to watch 

 the leap of the sea-going salmon of the Bay of Mon- 

 terey. The salmon come here in countless thousands 



171 



