12 Tarpon Fishing in Mexico. 



on the other hand there is not an insect on the water, and the 

 temperature is very pleasant. 



I propose, with the aid of the reader's imagination, to take 

 him along with me for a few days' sport among the Mexican tarpon. 



I had decided to start from the town, and fish my way down 

 to the mouth of the river, so I leave the hotel about 9 a.m.. and 

 follow my dark-complexioned boatman. After five minutes' walk 

 we embark in a small row-boat, and set off down a narrow and 

 dirty backwater. The bait consists of some twenty recently 

 killed silvery mullet, as they are locally called, something the 

 shape of a cigar, and varying from 6 to 9 inches in length. I 

 select one of these and pass the barb of the hook, which is over 

 3 inches long and i|- inches broad, through the throat and out 

 through the skull, and notice at the same time that my hand is 

 not quite so steady as usual at 9 o'clock in the morning. Ot 

 course I tell myself that I do not expect a strike for at least an 

 hour after entering the river, nor really until I am within a mile of 

 its mouth, as I have been told that spot is a special favourite with 

 the tarpon. Attached to the hook is a piece of piano wire 5 feet 

 long, then come 200 yards of twenty-seven-ply tarpon line. This 

 is wound on a multiplying reel whose only brake consists of a 

 button, by moving which I can apply a small amount of friction to 

 the drum ; and lastly, my 6-foot rod, — a frail enough apparatus, I 

 think, with which to land a fish 6 feet long and every inch a fighter. 



After what seems a very long time, but is in reality four or five 

 minutes, we emerge into the river. Over goes the bait and I 

 start letting out line. About 3 yards have gone, when suddenly 

 bang! bang! at the rod, which feels as if it had been hit twice 



