TALES OF FISHES 



drunk the second, eventually returning to the home 

 port. Some misfortunes turn out to be blessings. 



What adventures I had at Alacranes! But, alas! 

 I cannot relate a single story about really catching 

 a fish. There were many and ferocious fish that 

 would rush any bait I tried, only I could not hold 

 them. My tackle was not equal to what it is now. 

 Perhaps, however, if it had been it would have been 

 smashed just the same. 



In front of the Ughthouse there had been built a 

 little plank dock, running out twenty yards or so. 

 The water was about six feet deep, and a channel 

 of varying width meandered between the coral reefs 

 out to the deep blue sea. This must have been a 

 lane for big fish to comei inside the barrier. Almost 

 always there were great shadows drifting around in 

 the water. First I tried artificial baits. Some one, 

 hoping to convert me, had given me a whole box 

 of those ugly, murderous plug-baits made famous by 

 Robert H. Davis. Whenever I made a cast with 

 one of these a big fish would hit it and either strip 

 the hooks off or break my tackle. Some of these 

 fish leaped clear. They looked like barracuda to 

 me, only they were almost as silvery as a tarpon. 

 One looked ten feet long and as big around as a 

 telegraph pole. When this one smashed the water 

 white and leaped, Manuel yelled, "Pecuda!" I tried 

 hard to catch a specimen, and had a good many 

 hooked, but they always broke away. I did not 

 know then, as I know now, that barracuda grow 

 to twelve feet in the Caribbean. That fact is men- 

 tioned in records and natural histories. 



Out in the deeper lagoons I hooked huge fish that 



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