SOME RARE FISH 



have been ttere, absent perhaps in varying seasons. 

 It is fascinating to ponder over tackle and bait and 

 cunning calculated to take this rare denizen of the 

 Gulf Stream. 



During half a dozen sojourns at Long Key I had 

 heard of two or three dolphin being caught by lucky 

 anglers who were trolling for anything that would 

 bite. But until 1916 I never saw a dolphin. Cer- 

 tainly I never hoped to take one of these rare and 

 beautiful deep-sea fish. Never would have the luck. 

 But in February I took two, and now I am forbidden 

 the peculiar pleasure of disclaiming my fisherman's 

 luck. 



Dolphin seems a singularly attractive name. It 

 always made me think of the deep blue sea, of old 

 tars, and tall-sparred, white-sailed brigs. It is the 

 name of a fish beloved of all sailors. I do not 

 know why, but I suspect that it is because the 

 dolphin haunts ships and is an omen of good luck, 

 and probably the most exquisitely colored fish in 

 the ocean. 



One day, two miles out in the Gulf Stream, I 

 got a peculiar strike, quite unlike any I had ever 

 felt. A fisherman grows to be a specialist in strikes. 

 This one was quick, energetic, jerky, yet strong. 

 And it was a hungry strike. A fish that is hungry 

 can almost always be hooked. I let this one run 

 a little and then hooked him. He felt light, but 

 savage. He took line in short, zigzag rushes. I 

 fancied it was a bonita, but Sam shook his head. 

 With about a hundred yards of line out, the fish 

 leaped. He was golden. He had a huge, blunt, 



141 



