SEVEN MARLIN SWORDFISH IN ONE DAY 



At the east end, where the jagged black rocks met 

 the sea, I loved to watch a great swell rise out of the 

 level blue, heave and come, slow-lifting as if from 

 some infinite power, to grow and climb aloft till the 

 blue turned green and sunlight showed through, 

 and the long, smooth crest, where the seals rode, 

 took on a sharp edge to send wisps of spray in the 

 wind, and, rising sheer, the whole swell, solemn and 

 ponderous and majestic, lifted its volume one beau- 

 tiful instant, then curled its shining crest and rolled 

 in and down with a thundering, booming roar, all 

 the curves and contours gone in a green-white seeth- 

 ing mass that climbed the reefs and dashed itself 

 to ruin. 



An extraordinary achievement and record fell to 

 my brother R. C. It was too much good luck ever 

 to come my way. Fame is a fickle goddess. R. C. 

 had no ambition to make a great catch of swordfish. 

 He angles for these big game of the sea more to fur- 

 nish company for me than for any other reason. 

 He likes best the golden, rocky streams where the 

 bronze-back black-bass hide, or the swift, amber- 

 colored brooks full of rainbow trout. 



I must add that in my opinion, and Captain 

 Danielson's also, R. C. is a superior angler, and all 

 unconscious of it. He has not my intimate knowl- 

 edge of big fish, but he did not seem to need that. 

 He is powerful in the shoulders and arms, his hands 

 are strong and hard from baseball and rowing, and 

 he is practically tireless. He never rested while 

 fighting a fish. We never saw him lean the rod 

 on the gunwale. All of which accounts for his 



201 



