SAILFISH 



pon by going after him. But not every fisherman 

 can catch a sailfish. One fisherman out of a hundred 

 will get his sailfish, but only one out of a thousand 

 will experience the wonder and thrill and beauty 

 of the sport. 



Sailfishing is really swordfishing, and herein lies 

 the secret of my success at Long Key. I am not 

 satisfied that the sailfish I caught were all Marhn 

 and brothers to the Pacific Mariin. The Atlantic 

 fish are very much smaller than those of the Pacific, 

 and are differently marked and built. Yet they are 

 near enough alike to be brothers. 



There are three species that I know of in southern 

 waters. The Histiophorus, the sailfish about which 

 I am writing and of which descriptions follow. There 

 is another species, Tetrapturus albidus, that is not 

 uncommon in the Gulf Stream. It is my impression 

 that this species is larger. The Indians, with whom 

 I fished in the Caribbean, tell of a great swordfish — 

 in Spanish the Aguja de casta, and this species must 

 be related to Xiphias, the magnificent fiatbilled 

 swordfish of the Atlantic and Pacific. 



The morning of my greatest day with sailfish I 

 was out in the Gulf Stream, seven miles offshore, 

 before the other fishermen had gotten out of bed. 

 We saw the sun rise ruddy and bright out of the 

 eastern sea, and we saw sailfish leap as if to welcome 

 the rising of the lord of day. A dark, glancing ripple 

 wavered over the water; there was just enough swell 

 to make seeing fish easy. 



I was using a rod that weighed nine ounces over 

 all, and twelve hundred feet of fifteen-thread line. 



75 



