VI 



THE METHODS OF FISHING 



i. Pass Fishing 



ONE day in the Pass seems much like the other, 

 though a closer reference to my diaries allots to 

 each its episodes. My last day of all, i6th May, 

 was as interesting as any, and my journals furnish 

 the material for a fairly close description of its 

 fortunes. 



At six of the clock seven fishermen are called 

 by Clifford, the coloured porter at the inn, and 

 straggle, vid the bathroom and breakfast-table, to 

 the launch. By seven Commander Hasen has 

 coaxed that wayward craft to move a little sooner 

 than usual, and seven small boats, each occupied 

 by a guide busy cutting up the day's bait, are 

 towing in the wash astern. 



The morning is perfect. Not a breath of air 

 ruffles the smooth surface of Charlotte Harbour. 

 Pelicans paddle in the shallows as they might in 

 St James's Park, and every now and then one of 

 them dips his landing-net under a baby mullet that 

 has swum within its reach. In the launch the 

 conversation, for a wonder, is not tarpon. The 

 vagaries of the engine have produced a heated 

 discussion between one of the party, who knows 

 something of motor-boats, and another, who thinks 

 that he knows a little more. A gallant officer, who 

 raised his own men for the fruitless war against 



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