TALES OF FISHES 



deep, solid thumps. Then about a hundred feet 

 astern he turned in his own length, making a mael- 

 strom of green splash and white spray, out of which 

 he rose three-quarters of his huge body, purple- 

 blazed, tiger-striped, spear-pointed, and, with the 

 sea boiling white around him, he spun around, 

 creating an indescribable picture of untamed ferocity 

 and wild life and incomparable beauty. Then down 

 he splashed with a sullen roar, leaving a red foam 

 on the white. 



That appeared the end of his pyrotechnics. It had 

 been only a few moments. He began to swim off 

 slowly and heavily. We followed. After a few 

 tense moments it became evident that his terrible 

 surface work had weakened him, probably bursting 

 his gills, from which his life-blood escaped. 



We all breathed freer then. Captain Dan left 

 the wheel, mopping his pale, wet face. He gazed 

 at me to see if I had realized our peril. With the 

 excitement over, I began to realize. I felt a little 

 shaky then. The ladies were all talking at once, 

 still glowing with excitement. Easy to see they had 

 not appreciated the danger! But Captain Dan and 

 I knew that if the swordfish had come aboard — 

 which he certainly would have done had he ever 

 slipped his head over the gunwale — there would 

 have been a tragedy on the Leta D. 



"I never knew just how easy it could happen," 

 said Dan. "No one ever before hooked a big fish 

 right under the boat." 



"With that weight, that tail, right after being 

 hooked, he would have killed some of us and wrecked 

 the boat!" I exclaimed, aghast. 



214 



