Big Game at Sea 



undisputed. Long before the day of launches, when 

 he was the only boatman and guide of the island, I 

 fished with him, and he thought nothing of rowing 

 fifteen miles up the coast and back for a day's yellow- 

 tail fishing. To-day this is counted a day's trip for a 

 power launch. I know that Joe's nerve is true for I 

 have fished with him under all conditions, but he 

 pleased me best one day when he put me through 

 what I called a bad surf at San Clemente. I was per- 

 fectly willing to swim and really expected to, not 

 believing that a boat could live in the breakers with 

 the heavy and rather nervous load we had, but Joe 

 stopped and addressed his audience : 



" Gentlemen, if you will just sit still and give me 

 a show, I'll land you and you won't get your feet 

 wet." 



So we sat while Joe bided his time, as would a 

 thoroughly sensible, careful and reliable boatman 

 who knew all about surf riding, and when the series 

 of low waves came he went in and landed us, dry- 

 footed. 



Among the characters of the islands there was one 

 well known to those fond of leaping-shark fishing- 

 Johnny Daly, a clever gaffer, with a good nature that 

 had no limitations and a brogue that would have 

 arrested the attention of Ned Kendall's ghost. Ac- 

 cording to legend, sometime in the past Johnny laid 

 in a barrel of Kentucky Blue Grass whiskey; the bar- 

 rel still remains and is mounted on a cart that resem- 



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