TWO FIGHTS WITH SWORDFISH 



At two o'clock matters were about the same. I 

 was not tired, but certainly the fish was not tired, 

 either. He came to the surface just about as much 

 as he sounded. I had no difficulty at all in getting 

 back the line he took, at least all save a hundred 

 feet or so. "When I tried to lead him or lift him — 

 then I got his point of view. He would not budge 

 an inch. There seemed nothing to do but let him 

 work on the drag, and when he had pulled out a 

 few hundred feet of line we ran up on him and I 

 reeled in the line. Now and then I put all the 

 strain I could on the rod and worked him that way. 



At three o'clock I began to get tired. My hands 

 hurt. And I concluded I had been rather unlucky 

 to start on a broadbUi at the very beginning. 



From that time he showed less frequently, and, 

 if anything, he grew slower and heavier. I felt no 

 more rushes. And along about this time I found 

 I could lead him somewhat. This made me begin 

 to work hard. Yet, notwithstanding, I had no hope 

 of capturing the fish. It was only experience. 



Captain Dan kept sajang: "Well, you wanted to 

 hook up with a broadbill! Now how do you like 

 it?" He had no idea I would ever land him. Sev- 

 eral times I asked him to give an opinion as to the 

 size of the swordfish, but he would not venture that 

 until he had gotten a good close view of him. 



At four o'clock I made the alarming discovery 

 that the great B-Ocean reel was freezing, just as my 

 other one had frozen on my first swordfish the year 

 previous. Captain Dan used language. He threw 

 up his hands. He gave up. But I did not. 



"Dan, see here," I said. "We'll run up on him, 



57 



