SAILFISH 



Sam Johnson is from Norway. His ancestors 

 lived by fishing. Sam knows and loves the sea. 

 He has been a sailor before the mast, but he is more 

 fisherman than sailor. He is a stalwart man, with 

 an iron, stern, weather-beaten face and keen blue 

 eyes, and he has an arm like the branch of an oak. 

 For many years he has been a market fisherman at 

 Seabright, where on off days he pursued the horse- 

 mackerel for the fun of it, and which earned him 

 his name. Better than any man I ever met Sam 

 knows the sea; he knows fish, he knows boats and 

 engines. And I have reached a time in my experi- 

 ence of fishing where I want that kind of a boatman. 



Sam and I went after sailfish at Long Key and 

 we got them. But I do not consider the experience 

 conclusive. If it had not been for my hard-earned 

 knowledge of the Pacific swordfish, and for Sam's 

 keenness on the sea, we would not have been so for- 

 tunate. We established the record, but, what is 

 more important, we showed what magnificent sport 

 is possible. This advent added much to the at- 

 tractiveness of Long Key for me. And Long Key 

 was attractive enough before. 



Sailfish had been caught occasionally at Long 

 Key, during every season. But I am inclined to 

 believe that, in most instances, the capture of sail- 

 fish had been accident— mere fisherman's luck. 

 Anglers have fished along the reef and inside, troll- 

 ing with heavy tackle for anything that might 

 strike, and once in a while a sailfish has somehow 

 hooked himself. Mr. Schutt tells of hooking one 

 on a Wilson spoon, and I know of another angler 



73 



