TALES OF FISHES 



the rod made me blind with pain. There was no 

 fun, no excitement, no thrill now. As I labored I 

 could not help marveling at the strange, imbecile 

 pursuits of mankind. Here I was in an agony, 

 absolutely useless. Why did I keep it up? I could 

 not give up, and I concluded I was crazy. 



I conceived the most unreasonable hatred for that 

 poor swordfish that had done nothing to me and that 

 certainly would have been justified in ramming the 

 boat. 



To my despair the fish sounded deep, going down 

 and down. Captain Dan watched the line. Finally 

 it ceased to pay out. 



"Pump him up!" said Dan. 



This was funny. It was about as funny as death. 



I rested awhile and meditated upon the weakness 

 of the flesh. The thing most desirable and beautiful 

 in all the uliiverse was rest. It was so sweet to think 

 of that I was hard put to it to keep from tossing the 

 rod overboard. There was something so desperately 

 trying and painful in this fight with a broadbill. 

 At last I drew a deep, long breath, and, with a pang 

 in my breast and little stings all over me, I began 

 to hft on him. He was at the bottom of the ocean. 

 He was just as unattainable as the bottom of the 

 ocean. But there are ethics of a sportsman! 



Inch by inch and foot by foot I pumped up this 

 live and dragging Weight. I sweat, I panted, I 

 whistled, I bled — and my arms were dead, and 

 my hands raw and my heart seemed about to 

 burst. 



Suddenly Captain Dan electrified me. 



"There's the end of the double line!" he yelled. 



60 



