TALES OF FISHES 



It rained torrents all nigjit and stopped at dawn. 

 The wind was northeast and cool. Cloudy over- 

 head, with purple horizon all around — a forbidding 

 day. But we decided to go fishing, anyhow. We 

 had new, delicate three-six tackles to try. About 

 seven the wind died away. There was a dead calm, 

 and the sun tried to show. Then another breeze 

 came out of the east. 



We went up on the inside after bait, and had the 

 luck to find some. Crossing the island, we came 

 out at the old construction camp where we had left 

 the canoe. By this time a stiff breeze was blowing 

 and the tide was rising fast. We had our troubles 

 paddling and poling up to the grove of cocoanuts. 

 Opposite this we anchored and began to fish. 



Conditions were not favorable. The water was 

 choppy and roily, the canoe bobbed a good deal, 

 the anchors dragged, and we did not see any fish. 

 All the same, we persevered. At length I had a 

 bite, but pulled too late. We tried again for a while, 

 only to be disappointed. Then we moved. 



We had to put the stern anchor down first and 

 let it drag till it held and the canoe drifted around 

 away from the wind, then we dropped the bow an- 

 chor. After a time I had a faint feeling at the end 

 of my line — an indescribable feeling. I jerked and 

 hooked a bonefish. He did not feel heavy. He ran 

 off, and the wind bagged my line and the waves also 

 helped to pull out the hook. 



Following that we changed places several times, 

 in one of which R. C. had a strike, but failed to hook 

 the fish. Just opposite the old wreck on the shore 

 I had another fish take hold, and, upon hooking him, 



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