THE BOOK OF THE TARPON 



we were churning away for the nearest key when 

 the shrieking wind struck us and took com- 

 mand. Against it the motor couldn't even make 

 steerage way and the best it could do was to 

 keep the big anchor from dragging. 



The scene had been changed as by a magi- 

 cian's wand. The deep water and wide sweep 

 for the wind which make for big waves was 

 wanting, but every billow was crested with foam 

 and the flying drops under pressure of the blast 

 stung our faces like sleet. When the fury of the 

 squall had so abated that the motor could pull 

 us up to the anchor we hoisted it and started for 

 the shelter of the keys. As darkness came on we 

 anchored close under the lee of Bamboo Key, 

 which enjoys the unusual and not altogether 

 merited distinction of having never harbored a 

 mosquito. 



We cruised in vain for tarpon among the 

 outer keys until we reached Bahia Honda. Be- 

 tween that and No Name Key the channel was 

 alive with the creatures we sought. They ap- 

 peared to be at play, for few small fish were in 

 sight, yet two or three of the largest sized tarpon 

 could be seen in the air at once. 



