TALES OF FISHES 



in the water, a glistening pale bronze and silver 

 when landed. I hooked a hairder-fighting fish, which, 

 when broi^ht in, proved to be a white sea-bass, a 

 very beautiful species with faint purphsh color and 

 mottled opal tints above the deep silver. 



Next morning we left the bay at six thirty. It was 

 the calmest day we had had in days. The sea was 

 like a beveled mirror, oily, soft, and ethereal, with 

 low swells barely moving. An hour and a half out 

 we were alone on the sea, out of sight of land, with 

 the sun faintly showing, and all around us, inclosing 

 and mystical, a thin haze of fog. 



Alone, alone, all alone on a wide, wide sea! This 

 was wonderful, far beyond any pursuit of swordfish. 



We sighted birds, gulls, and ducks floating like 

 bits of colored cork, and pieces of kelp, and at length 

 a broadbill. We circled him three times with barra- 

 cuda, and again with a flying-fish. Apparently he 

 had no interest in edibles. He scorned our lures. 

 But we stayed with him until he sank for good. 



Then we rode the sea for hours, searching for fins. 



At ten forty we sighted another. Twice we drew 

 a fresh fine barracuda in front of him, which he re- 

 fused. It was so disappointing, in fact, really sick- 

 ening. 



Dan was disgusted. He said, "We can't get them 

 to bite!" 



And I said, "Let's try again!" 



So we circled him once more. The sea was beau- 

 tifully smooth, with the slow swells gently heaving. 

 The swordfish rode them lazily and indifferently. 

 His dorsal stood up straight and stiff, and the big 

 sickle-shaped tail-fin wove to and fro behind. I 



188 



