86 SUNSHINE AND SPORT IN 



worst symptom of Americanitis), love best the 

 friendly light of day, the sight of trees waving on 

 island banks, the song of land-birds and the flight 

 of sea-fowl, the view of others fishing close at hand, 

 the exchange of chaff bandied amono^ the boats. 

 Most often does one hear the favourite injunction 

 to "Make him jump!" in reference to the un- 

 athletic sulking of many monsters of the Pass, the 

 ponderous jewfish, boring grouper and massive 

 sharks. All of these in turn seize the tarpon bait 

 and waste the precious time of such as have not 

 the heart to cut their line and take a new hook for 

 better game. Among sportsmen in the Pass pre- 

 vails the unsophisticated mood of schoolboys home 

 for the summer holidays, and on them such old 

 jokes never pall. 



Others would rather fish on moonlight nights. 

 Discounting the enjoyable social element which 

 prevails in daylight, these cool, still nights can be 

 exceedingly pleasant. They afford just enough 

 light to swear and fish by, yet without the pitiless 

 blaze that all day long, often without the saving 

 grace of a passing cloud or the soothing breath of 

 a gentle breeze, dazzles the eye and blisters the 

 skin, bidding those who know the tropics wear 

 smoked goggles and long sleeves, and dooming 

 those who do not to buy their knowledge at the 

 price of sore eyes and tender arms. 



The moonless night is by general agreement 

 dreary and comfortless, interesting only as a rare 

 experience of uncanny impressions. The depress- 

 ing isolation of hours spent in a small open boat 

 wrapt in the impenetrable pall of night, on the 

 threshold of a Gulf that has a nasty reputation for 



