THE BOOK OF THE TARPON 



My weight rested on the thwart behind me as I 

 knelt, or I should have fallen backward. Up, 

 up, I rose, until, toppling on the crest of the 

 wave, I looked across a deep valley to another 

 wall which was rushing toward me. Then came 

 a plunge into the chasm beyond me, with a toss 

 at the end which reminded me of the boys' game 

 "cracking the whip" and of occasions when I 

 had been the cracker. The waves were too short 

 to be taken squarely, but we soon found the an- 

 gle that suited our craft and rose and fell as we 

 crossed them, with little jar. 



The strong current that caused the big break- 

 ers helped us quickly through them and we found 

 ourselves rising and falling on the incoming roll- 

 ers with a motion like the gentle rocking of a 

 cradle. The waves about us had ceased to break 

 and we paddled north well out of the sweep of 

 the main current from the pass. Between us 

 and the shore were long lines of breakers sweep- 

 ing slowly to Gasparilla Island and sending 

 spray and spume far up the beach. The Cam- 

 era-man bailed out the few gallons of water we 

 had taken aboard and we paddled a mile up the 

 coast in search of an easy landing place, but 



50 



