Big Game at Sea 



and myself sitting on the upper deck, about eight feet 

 from the water, each armed with a shotgun. The 

 agreement was that we should take the fish flushed 

 on the side on which we sat. The man on the port 

 side was to shoot to port, the one on the starboard 

 to starboard. The Linda was headed up the coast 

 and was presently running at full speed and in a short 

 time into the flying-fishes, which rose at or near the 

 bow and went skimming away in graceful lines. The 

 first flier went to the left, and was cleverly dropped 

 by one of my companions, who killed another with his 

 left barrel. The third fish fell to me. It rose 

 twenty feet ahead with a vigorous trembling of the 

 body, produced by the screw-like motion, and dashed 

 away three feet above the surface. As it swerved to 

 the right I fired, dropping it; as it fell the splash 

 startled another fish from the water, which came 

 straight toward the boat, rising slightly on the stiff 

 wind. I did not fire, as the fish was too near, and it 

 passed over the boat into the preserves of my com- 

 panion, who dropped it when fifty feet away. 



There was something essentially novel in this sport. 

 The fish appeared as though by magic, shooting out 

 of the water with little or no splash, often apparently 

 sailing along a foot above the surface, which it so 

 resembled that it was as difficult to drop them as it 

 would be the woodcock darting over cover that it 

 perfectly resembled. As the launch neared Long 

 Point a prominent headland which reaches out into 



194 



