FISH AND FISHING. 



AN AFTERNOON'S RECREATION. 



MORRIS. 



I try to be a good man and aim to live in 

 a proper way; and have tried to think my 

 wife used excellent judgment when she 

 chose me for a husband. To be sure, I 

 gave her every opportunity to think well of 

 me, visiting her nearly every evening and, 

 perhaps, showing the best side of my char- 

 acter. Now a man may mean well and try 

 hard, but when he gets to be 40 he usually 

 acquires a hobby, or a vice that he needs 

 to guard against. My particular extrava- 

 gance is a sailboat, and one of my pleas- 

 ures is fishing. I aim to limit myself in the 

 summer to one day a week, and then go 

 without any vacation; as by so doing I 

 can keep along in my business to better ad- 

 vantage than if I left it entirely for 2 

 weeks. 



I had already taken my day, in the week 

 in question, when one morning in the lat- 

 ter part of August, I had occasion to drive 

 to the railway station, located between the 

 town and Long Island sound. I transacted 

 my business and was just about to start for 

 the store again, when a friend asked me if 

 I knew the bluefish had struck on. " No. 

 When did they come? " I asked. " I don't 

 know when they came, but yesterday after- 

 noon one boat caught 38 and another 25; 

 and they run fair size, too, from 2 to 3 

 pounds. At sundown they told me the reef 

 was alive with them, but the wind dropped, 

 and they had to leave." 



On the way up town, I carefully thought 

 the matter over. There were 3 little chil- 

 dren home and not a mouthful of fish in the 

 house. I imagined how delighted my wife 

 would be with a fresh bluefish, and how 

 nice one would taste for breakfast. In fact, 

 I thought the matter over so much that I 

 stopped at the store of a friend and told him 

 how the case stood. He was fixed a good 

 deal as I was, with not a mouthful of fish 

 in his house; and he responded readily to 

 my invitation to go fishing after dinner. 

 " Anybody else going? " he inquired. 

 "No; not that I know of." "Well, let's 

 ask Pete." Ask him we did, and a news- 

 paper man was added to the party. " Now, 

 what time do you want to start? " they 

 asked me. " Oh, I think if you are at the 

 dock by 2 o'clock it will be about right. 

 Fish should bite best the latter part of the 

 afternoon." So 2 o'clock, we made it. 



At the appointed time, my 2 friends, 

 Harry and Pete, met me at the wharf. Har- 

 ry had the deep sagacity to bring a pie, and 

 Pete, a bag of doughnuts. I furnished the 

 water, a jug of which I already had in the 

 boat. You never can tell when you will 

 get back from such a trip and the subject of 

 victuals is, at times, an important one. My 



boat was the best it was ever my good fort- 

 une to own. In length she measured some 

 20 feet over all, with a beam of 7 feet. With 

 her white hull and tapering spars she was 

 as pretty a marine picture as one would 

 often see. Nor was her beauty all con- 

 fined to her looks. She was hung, as boat- 

 men say, just right, and a child could steer 

 her in any weather. Her long flat floor 

 made her stiff, and often, with the rest of 

 the fleet wallowing through it with jibs 

 lifted and mainsails fluttering, in a strong 

 breeze, we would just have our washboard 

 down even with the water. 



Our fishing ground lay 4 miles off shore 

 and about a mile Northwest of a large 

 island with a lighthouse on it. The wind 

 was Southwest, and brought the reef dead 

 to windward of us. After rowing out of 

 the narrow creek, we trimmed our sheets 

 flat aft, to work out of the harbor and out 

 to sea. Back and forth across the channel 

 we went. Now well over to the salt 

 meadows on the East side; and again, 

 close to the point on the West shore, with 

 its big hotel and crowd of guests lounging 

 in the shade and children playing in the 

 sand. At last we weather the point and 

 make a long tack to the Westward, up un- 

 der the shore through the Southwest chan- 

 nel and across the bay, then around we 

 come and head for the reef. A glorious 

 afternoon it was, one of those times when 

 it is good to be alive. And then, as Pete 

 said, considering the destitute condition of 

 our families, we felt as though we were do- 

 ing some good in the world. Half an hour, 

 and the rip on the reef was in plain sight, 

 and over went the lines. 



Not a fish was in sight, but it was still 

 early. We cruised the length of the reef 

 in the slack and back again in the rough 

 water, without getting a rise. An hour was 

 spent in a fruitless research for the fish. 

 We tried Stony Island reef, with the same 

 result. The sun was sinking lower in the 

 West, and the wind was dropping as well, 

 and yet no fish. Harry had just asked me 

 if there were any fresh fish in the market, 

 when I saw one leap, some 40 rods away, 

 and to the windward of us. Then another 

 broke, and another, until the water was 

 alive with the leaping fish. But the tide 

 was strong, and the wind rapidly growing 

 less. It was of no use; and 3 disappointed 

 men sat and watched the show, with never 

 a chance to get the coveted dainties. The 

 sun sank behind the Western horizon, and 

 with sails idly flapping we took the 10 foot 

 oars and started for home. Two hours of 

 hard work and we reached our moorings. 



A little later, we carefully picked out the 

 freshest looking bluefish from the icebox 

 of our local dealer and, politely declining 



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