IV 



TWO FIGHTS WITH SWORDFISH 



MY first day at Avalon, 1916, was one likely to 

 be memorable among my fishing experiences. 



The weather (August 2d) was delightful — smooth, 

 rippling sea, no wind, clear sky and warm. The 

 Sierra Nevada Mountains shone dark above the 

 horizon, 



A little before noon we passed my friend Lone 

 Angler, who hailed us and said there was a big 

 broadbill swordfish off in the steamer-course. We 

 steered off in that direction. 



There were sunfish and sharks showing all around. 

 Once I saw a whale. The sea was glassy, with a 

 long, heaving swell. Birds were plentiful in scat- 

 tered groups. 



We ran across a shark of small size and tried to 

 get him to take a bait. He refused. A little later 

 Captain Dan espied a fin, and upon running up we 

 discovered the huge, brown, leathery tail and dorsal 

 of a broadbill swordfish. 



Captain Dan advised a long line out so that we 

 could circle the fish from a distance and not scare 

 him. I do not remember any unusual excitement. 

 I was curious and interested. Remembering all I 



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