TWO FIGHTS WITH SWORDFISH 



a hand in the final round, which I frankly confessed 

 was liable to be hell. 



"Not on your life!" was the prompt reply. "I 

 want to begin on a little swordfish! . . . Why, that — 

 that fish hasn't waked up yet!" 



And I was bound to confess there seemed to me 

 to be a good deal of sense in what he said. 



"Dan, I'll take the rod — rest you a bit — so you 

 can finish him," I offered. 



The half-hour Dan recorded as my further work 

 on this fish will always be a dark and poignant blank 

 in my fishing experience. When it was over twi- 

 light had come and the fish was rolling and circling 

 perhaps fifty yards from the boat. 



Here Dan took the rod again, and with the har- 

 ness on and fresh gloves went at the fish in grim 

 determination. 



Suddenly the moon sailed out from behind a fog- 

 bank and the sea was transformed. It was as 

 beautiful as it was lucky for us. 



By Herculean effort Dan brought the swordfish 

 close. If any angler doubts the strength of a twenty- 

 four thread line his experience is still young. That 

 line was a rope, yet it sang like a banjo string. 



Leaning over the side, with two pairs of gloves 

 on, I caught the double line, and as I pulled and Dan 

 reeled the fish came up nearer. But I could not 

 see him. Then I reached the leader and held on as 

 for dear life. 



"I've got the leader!" I yelled. "Hurry, Dan!" 



Dan dropped the rod and reached for his gaff. 

 But he had neglected to unhook the rod from the 

 harness, and as the fish lunged and tore the leader 



69 



