THE ISLAND OF THE DEAD 



swam off ponderously, dragging the skiff until my 

 line parted. Once I was fortunate enough to see 

 one, which fact dispelled any possibility of its being 

 a shark. Manuel called it " Chema!" It looked like 

 a giant sea-bass and would have weighed at least 

 eight hundred pounds. The color was lighter than 

 any sea-bass I ever studied. My Indian boatmen 

 claimed this fish was a man-eater and that he and his 

 crew had once fought one all day and then it broke 

 away. The fish I saw was huge enough to swallow 

 a man, that was certain. I think this species must 

 have been the great June-fish of the Gulf. I hooked 

 one once at the mouth of the Panuco River in Mexico 

 and it nearly swamped the boat. 



Soon my tackle was all used up, and, for want of 

 better, I had to use tiny hooks and thread lines — 

 because I was going to fish, by hook or crook! This 

 method, however, which I learned first of all, is not 

 to be despised. Whenever I get my hand on a 

 thin, light, stiff reed pole and a long, light line 

 of thread with a little hook, then I revert to boyhood 

 days and sunfish and chubs and shiners and bull- 

 heads. Could any fisherman desire more joy? 

 Those days are the best. 



The child is father of the man 

 And I could wish my days to be 

 Bound each to each by natural piety. 



In the shallow water near the dock there always 

 floated a dense school of little fish like sardines. 

 They drifted? floated, hovered b'eside the dock, and 

 when one of the big flsh would rush near they 

 would make a breaking roar on the surface. Of 



15 



