The Albacore 205 
silvery game, at the apparition of the boat, makes 
one of a series of final charges, any one of which 
might shatter the rod, or break the line if it was 
checked. The click gives tongue loudly with 
its short, quick ze-e-eing, “stabs the air with its 
shrill alarm,” and again the reel moves and the 
fish comes in. This is repeated several times 
during the fifteen or twenty minutes’ contest, and 
presently the angler sees the game at the surface, 
still full of fight, a finny fury. Bending the tip 
forward he passes it into the field of the gaffer, 
who ends the game by his clever movement be- 
neath its silvery throat. 
The strength of the albacore can be appreci- 
ated by the terrific tattoo which it now plays 
upon the canvas-covered planking of the boat, 
which, if small, it shakes from stem to stern. 
The boatman gives the fish its quietus and holds 
it up by the measuring scales, with his “ Twenty- 
five pounds, sir!” And this is what we see: 
a plump, compact tuna, all but the long side or 
pectoral fins ; about three feet in length, the muz- 
zle sharper, the eyes larger, almost the same 
spikelike second dorsal and anal; a remarkable 
thickness and compactness in proportion to its 
length, and one would invariably “ guess” under 
