TALES OF FISHES 



doubts. The weight was heavy and ponderous and 

 tugging. He went down and down and down. The 

 boatman said amberjack. I was afraid so, but I 

 still had my hopes. For a while I could not budge 

 him, and at last, when I had given up hope that it 

 was a sailfish, I worked a good deal harder than I 

 would have otherwise. It took me twenty-five 

 minutes to subdue a forty-pound amberjack. Here 

 was proof of what could be done with light tackle. 



About ten-thirty of this most deUghtful and favor- 

 able day we ran into a school of barracuda. R. C. 

 hooked a small one, which was instantly set upon 

 by its voracious comrades and torn to pieces. Then 

 I had a tremendous strike, hard, swift, long — every- 

 thing to make a tingle of nerve and blood. The 

 instant I struck, up out of a flying splash rose a long, 

 sharp, silver-flashing tiger of the sea, and if he 

 leaped an inch he leaped forty feet. On that light 

 tackle he was a revelation. Five times more he 

 leaped, straight up, very high, gills agape, jaws 

 wide, body curved — a sight for any angler. He 

 made long runs and short runs and all kinds of runs, 

 and for half an hour he defied any strain I dared 

 put on him. Eventually I captured him, and I con- 

 sidered him superior to a tarpon of equal or even 

 more weight. 



Barracuda are a despised fish, apparently because 

 of their voracious and murderous nature. But I 

 incline to the belief that it is because the invariable 

 use of heavy tackle has blinded the fishermen to the 

 wonderful leaping and fighting qualities of this long- 

 nosed, long-toothed sea-tiger. The few of us who 

 have hooked barracuda on hght tackle know him as 



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