216 Big Game Fishes 
region where every month is May, where life is a 
constant angling esta. 
“A heavenly Paradise is that place,” 
far down on the outer reef. Any day in the year 
I could row out beyond the lagoon, watch my 
chance, and run through the narrow five-foot 
channel that breaks the great barrier, and float 
over groves of coral and gorgonias whose grace 
and beauty defied description. Mounds of olive- 
green coral, patches of lavender and gold gorgo- 
nias fanned by the current, with their reticulated 
surfaces, some like ostrich plumes in red or brown; 
seaweeds of varied hues, delicate vines, living 
cloths of green covering the dead coral rocks, 
all forming the home of scores of fishes, any 
one of which was game to the not too critical 
angler. 
It was over such a region that I met another 
member of this family. I had been fishing for 
the captivating yellowtail, and was reeling in, 
when there came a swirl of waters, a vision of a 
mighty fish, and my yellowtail line and tip were 
gone. I could see that it was not a shark. Chief, 
the boatman, expressed the opinion that it was a 
jewfish; but the robber was blacker, trimmer, 
