300 Big Game Fishes 
off and at once we were rushing away, bow 
under, in a manner so sharklike that I was con- 
vinced that the tiger-shark had a mate and we 
had hooked it; but this conclusion was dispelled 
by the sudden slacking of the line. 
“Ole jewfish, sa’, an’ he done tuck to his 
hole!” cried Paublo, as the little boat came to a 
standstill. . 
Paublo was a true prophet, and investigation 
showed that the fish, in all probability, had run 
beneath a deep ledge of branch coral, and any 
attempts to lift it would result in chafing off the 
line; so we decided to “kedge off” the game. 
The dinghy was rowed into the channel three 
hundred feet or so, and while Paublo rowed vigor- 
ously, I hauled, with the result that the fish was 
forced from beneath its shelter, and after taking 
it in two hundred feet, it made a gamy rush 
around the dinghy. Owing to the length of line 
I was able to hold the fish, while Paublo pulled 
for deep water, where we held it before it sounded. 
Despite a piece of canvas as an improvised brake, 
I could not stop the fish; and only finally suc- 
ceeded by lying flat back in the bottom and bear- 
ing on with the big line in the scull hole; I 
thought for a moment that the fish would take 
