TALES OF FISHES ' 



he broke my hook. This was a disappointment far 

 beyond reason, but I could not help it. 



Next day was windy. The one following we could 

 not find the fish, and the third day we all concluded 

 they had gone for 1918. I think the fame of tuna, 

 the uncertainty of their appearance, the diflBculty 

 of capturing a big one, are what excite the am- 

 bition of anglers. Long effort to that end, and con- 

 sequent thinking and plaiming and feeling, bring 

 about a condition of mind that will be made clear 

 as this story progresses. 



But Captain Danielson did not give up. The 

 fifth day we ran off the west side with several other 

 boats, and roamed the sea in search of fins. No 

 anchovies on the surface, no sheerwater ducks, no 

 sharks, nothing to indicate tuna. About one o'clock 

 Captain Dan sheered southwest and we ran sixteen 

 miles toward Clemente Island. 



It was a perfect day, warm, hazy, with light fog, 

 smooth, heaving, opalescent sea. There was no 

 wind. At two thirty not one of the other boats was 

 in sight. At two forty Captain Dan sighted a large, 

 dark, rippling patch on the water. We ran over closer, 



"School of tuna!" exclaimed the captain, with 

 excitement. "Big fish! Oh, for some wind now 

 to fly the kite!" 



"There's another school," said my brother, R. 

 C, and he pointed to a secbnd darkly gleaming spot 

 on the smooth sea. 



"I've spotted one, too!" I shouted. 



"The ocean's alive with tuna — big tuna!" boomed 

 Captain Dan. "Here we are alone, blue-button fish 

 everywhere — and no wind." 



226 



