SHARKS AS FISHERMEN 



last day of one year only to be broken on the 

 first of the year that followed. 



The next tarpon was a dashing youngster of 

 about four and a half feet in length, but it spent 

 most of its time in the air doing acrobatic stunts 

 that made one dizzy to look at. We were car- 

 ried back and forth across the pass, then inland 

 to near Mondongo and out to the beginning of 

 the breakers. In half an hour the fish had worn 

 itself out and its leaps above the surface became 

 few and feeble. Soon it only lifted its back out 

 of water and I was drawing the canoe beside it 

 to remove the hook from its mouth, when the tar- 

 pon revived and rushing away made successive 

 leaps with nearly its original vigor. As it 

 dashed about I was kept busy with the reel, until 

 it finally settled down to a strong, steady pull 

 toward the breakers. Then the fish turned and 

 headed up the main channel of Charlotte Har- 

 bor, sullenly swimming near the bottom. There 

 were a few rushes, but no leaps and the line was 

 carried back and forth without life, though with 

 a strength that seemed resistless. It was long 

 before I suspected what had happened and then 

 I turned to the captain: 



67 



