THE BOOK OF THE TARPON 



true as the flight of an arrow, schools of fierce 

 cavally were headed for the fray. 



We paddled for the scene of biggest disturb- 

 ance, which was near the middle of the channel. 

 As we advanced the big waves, which had looked 

 so smooth from a distance, became rolling hills 

 down the sides of which we slid to the bottoms of 

 deep valleys. From each of these we were 

 smoothly lifted, up, up to the crest of a higher 

 wave. Before we could reach them the last of 

 the school of minnows we were chasing had been 

 eaten and already the predatory birds and fish 

 were busy with another bunch of their victims 

 farther up Charlotte Harbor and an eighth of a 

 mile distant. The wind was with us and the 

 slackening tide still favorable, so a few minutes 

 brought us to the battle-ground. 



Leaving control of the canoe to the Camera- 

 man, who sat in the stern, I took in my paddle 

 and, picking up the tarpon rod, cast the bait into 

 the midst of the fray. As it touched the water 

 it was seized by a big cavally, known to the 

 Florida fisherman as jack-fish. The fish was 

 about a twelve-pounder, of much strength and 

 activity, and it quickly ran out a hundred feet 



46 



