RIDING THE BREAKERS 



of my line. I was kneeling in a cranky canoe 

 with less than five inches of freeboard among 

 waves that tossed it like a bubble. Several times 

 I reeled the fish close to the canoe, but each time 

 the toss of a wave kept me from landing it. 

 When at last I had succeeded in taking it 

 aboard, unhooking and casting it out, half an 

 hour had been lost and the nearest flock of birds 

 that were fishing was a quarter of a mile up the 

 bay. 



The fish had scattered when we reached the 

 school and I made many casts in vain. A small 

 jack-fish bit off most of the strip of mullet which 

 I was using as bait and as I was reeling in the 

 line a Spanish mackerel seized what was left, in- 

 cluding the hook. One doesn't play a baby fish 

 on a tarpon rod, and swinging the mackerel to 

 the side of the canoe I put out my hand to take 

 it aboard. 



But a six-foot tarpon was ahead of me, and 

 his cavernous mouth engulfed my mackerel, 

 while his shining, silvery scales grazed the side of 

 the canoe as his great bulk shot six feet in the 

 air. In the surprise of the moment I lost con- 

 trol of my reel and when I regained it and put 



47 



