A NOVEL FISHING REEL. 



E. M. LEETE. 



Never within the memory of the oldest 

 fisherman on the coast had sharks been so 

 numerous in Long Island Sound as in the 

 summer of 1877. On a calm day, in the 

 sheltered bays on the Northern shore from 

 one to a dozen of their sharp fins could be 

 seen at once cutting the water. They were 

 especially numerous near a small island 5 

 miles off shore and 2 miles Westward of an 

 island on which stood a lighthouse. 



The smaller island is in the form of a 

 crescent, one horn pointing Northeast and 

 the other nearly South. The Northern 

 horn was merely a line of rocks and sand, 

 while the Southern extremity contained a 

 small tract, perhaps an acre, pear-shaped — 

 the stem connected with the main body. 



Years before some enterprising lobster- 

 man had lived on this spot, and a rough 

 shanty, broken lobster pots, a ruinous reel 

 for drying nets, and a windlass for hauling 

 boats on shore, remained as witnesses that 

 here had been a human habitation. 



The old windlass was well toward the 

 main body of the island, and on its highest 

 part. With a strong Westerly wind, a good 

 harbor was found on the Eastern side, and 

 boats could be hauled up from that shore. 

 Let an East wind blow and the approach 

 was equally safe from the opposite side. 



The East Bay, as it was called, had always 

 been infested with sharks, but in the sum- 

 mer alluded to they fairly swarmed there. 

 They were mostly small, from 3 to 5 feet 

 long, but there were a few large ones that 

 were regular man-eaters. 



During the summer of 'tj black fishing 

 around the island was a failure, but fisher- 

 men had rare sport catching sharks. 



Exciting tales were told of immense 

 fishes hooked, but owing to the want of 

 proper tackle the large ones always escaped. 



On the morning on which my story 

 opens, 2 young men, Tom Frisbie and Earl 

 Jackson, respectively 30 and 25 years old, 

 pulled to their sloop from an unsuccessful 

 attempt to catch blackfish. After some 

 grumbling at their ill luck they decided to 

 try their hands at catching a shark. One 

 skinned one of the few blackfish they had 

 caught while the other rigged a hook and 

 line. The hook was a stout one, connected 

 with a few feet of strong chain. The chain 

 was made fast to the end of a new strong 

 rope 75 feet long; this in turn was fastened 

 to a lobster-buoy, and the whole secured 

 to the stern of the sloop. Baiting with the 

 skinned blackfish the whole shooting match 

 was thrown overboard, and the friends sat 

 down to eat a luncheon. 



Very soon a loud " splash " called their 



attention to their buoy. It was gone, and 

 in its place was merely a patch of foam. 



Springing to the line they eased it off 

 for the rapidly moving fish, till it was nearly 

 gone, when with a smart yank they arrested 

 his flight and hooked him fast. Hand over 

 hand 4 strong hands hauled in. The shark 

 protested vigorously and the fishermen had 

 their hands full, but by taking a turn round 

 a cleat they finally drew him up alongside, 

 where a heavy oaken tiller wielded by 

 brawny arms finished him. 



Rebaiting the hook, they again cast their 

 bread upon the waters, but this time spliced 

 to their line another, 100 feet long. Pres- 

 ently a second fish was captured, and soon 

 a third was hooked but lost. Then followed 

 a long wait, and they were on the point 

 of quitting when a fresh commotion at the 

 buoy attracts their attention. 



Easing off on their line till they were sure 

 of being fast they endeavored to stop 

 the game but found it impossible. When 

 the first line was all out a turn was taken 

 round the cleat but that substantial append- 

 age went like a reed, and it was necessary 

 to take a turn round the mast to stop the 

 fish. Against this he pulled until the rope 

 straightened like an iron rod. There he 

 hung, swinging back and forth like a bull 

 at the end of a tether. 



After many unsuccessful efforts to haul 

 him in, one of the boys had an inspiration. 

 A coil of rope which had been entrusted to 

 them to be delivered to a third party lay 

 on deck. Leaving one end aboard to be 

 fastened to the line already in use, one of 

 the friends sprang into the skiff with the 

 coil, and rowed ashore to the old windlass. 

 Fastening the shore end to the windlass 

 while his companion spliced the other end 

 to the fast line he prepared to haul. His 

 companion waded ashore and together they 

 bent themselves to their task. 



And now it was brains and leverage 

 against strength and ferocity. Round and 

 round went the fishermen at the old cap- 

 stan, and foot by foot the " tiger of the 

 deep " was drawn up into shoal water. 

 Back and forth raged the furious victim, 

 lashing the waves into foam as white as the 

 belly which he turned glistening upward 

 in his tremendous struggles. It was a sight 

 not soon to be forgotten. The sea was like 

 milk on all sides, and the buoy flew about in 

 the air like a cork on a string as the shark- 

 thrashed madly around. 



Bringing a pistol from the vessel one of 

 the friends planted a bullet between the 

 ugly eyes of the monster and finished him. 

 He was 9 feet long! 



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