Giant Fish of Florida 
difficult to imagine the object of the kingfish in throwing 
its prey into the air. These skipjacks often skip into boats, 
and exceedingly beautiful little fish they are, with the 
steely blue sheen on their burnished silver coats, and their 
amber fins and sharply-forked tail. The damaged tail-fin 
of the swimming kingfish figured opposite struck me the 
moment I caught it, and I came to the conclusion at the 
time that the tail-fin had been bitten by a prowling shark 
that the kingfish was, thanks to its lightning speed, able to 
baulk of a more substantial meal. Of the sharks that infest 
this coast I shall have something to say later on. They are 
numerous and ravenous, and spare nothing, great or small. 
And now the tarpon are biting again. There are two, 
three, four strikes; three fish have jumped, two are fairly 
hooked. The excitement grows. 
“Hi, you, sir! reel up there. Can’t you see you have 
fouled that lady’s line? Cut your line—tell you you have no 
fish on at all—just cut your line!” 
“Pull like hell!” shouts some one to his guide, as his 
tarpon rushes in towards him. 
“Pick up that chair, Bill,” cries the guide, a minute later. 
“My gent’s fallen out—got to tow him ashore. There goes a 
rod broken at the butt.” 
“ Lend us an oar, Sam ; mine’s smashed.” 
“Come and get it yourself,” sings out the courteous Sam. 
“Can't; got a fish on.” 
65 
