A DAY AT STUMP PASS. 



J. H. MORSE. 



One bright December morning my friend 

 Jonas and I left Englewood, Florida, for a 

 day's fishing at Stump Pass. Situated about 

 ioo miles South of Tampa, on the Gulf 

 coast, the pass is the principal outlet of 

 Lemon bay, and a famous fishing ground. 



An hour's sail and we anchored our skiff 

 in the channel, well toward the outside 

 beach. Fiddler crabs were our only bait, 

 and at the end of a half hour I had caught 

 the first fish, a small sheepshead. The tide 

 was running out, however, and we looked 

 for better luck with slack water and the 

 flood. In the meantime, rowing ashore and 

 beaching the boat, we went toward the Gulf 

 on the South side of the pass, and reached 

 a place where the bank shelved off abruptly, 

 making deep water close to the shore. I 

 dropped in again and Jonas also began 

 operations. 



He soon landed a good sized ravalli, and 

 about the same time I caught a small 

 sailor's choice. Using the latter as cut bait, 

 and adding more lead, we both cast well out 

 from shore and awaited developments. Full 

 10 minutes passed quietly. Then Jonas' reel 

 began to buzz, and the fish took out a good 

 hundred feet of line before he was checked. 

 Then followed a mad rush toward the Gulf 

 of Mexico, and vigorous thumbing of the 

 line on the part of my friend. Twice the fish 

 broke water, and it was only by skilful man- 

 ipulation of the rod that the prize was re- 

 tained. After playing him for some time, 

 he weakened and was led near the shore, 

 where I gaffed him. It was a redfish, or 

 channel bass, and tipped the balance at 14 

 pounds. 



Shortly after this I hooked a large fish, 

 presumably a shark. At any rate, he went 

 off with some 15 feet of line attached to my 

 hook. The tide had now set in strongly. 

 We secured, with a dip net, some sardines 

 for live bait and during the next hour we 

 caught some 30 pounds of fish, grunters, 

 redfish, trout, jackfish and one grouper. 

 Then, noticing a school of Spanish mackerel 

 coming in from the Gulf, we hastily rigged 

 trolling tackle. The Northwest wind en- 

 abled us to lay up and down the pass and 

 we had good sport for a half hour or more 

 with these gamy fish. I sailed the boat, and 

 Jonas, with a pearl spinner caught 5 hand- 

 some mackerel, the largest weighing a trifle 

 over 3 pounds. We also took one small 

 bluefish. It was rather early in the season 

 for both of these fish, as they generally run 

 from February to July. Both are also 

 caught by still fishing, live bait being prefer- 

 able, and the sardine considered best. At 



times the mackerel readily strikes at mullet 

 cut in strips. 



About noon we repaired to the fish camp 

 on the North side of the pass to eat lunch 

 and obtain some mullet bait from the fisher- 

 men. This fish is only caught in nets, al- 

 though some claim they will take a bait 

 made of flour or bread crumbs plastered on 

 a hook. I have never seen one caught in 

 this manner. We found 2 men occupying 

 the camp, using cast nets, and salting mullet 

 for the market. They had just taken 396 

 fish in about an hour with 2 9-foot nets. 

 This was an exceptionally large haul. They 

 were dressing the fish on the wharf as we 

 came up. We brewed coffee over their fire, 

 and disposed of lunch. Jonas then stretched 

 out on the wharf in the shade of a large box, 

 and went to sleep, while I got out some 

 shark tackle, and, baiting with mullet heads, 

 threw it out as far as my strength would al- 

 low. There were some 75 feet of half-inch 

 rope attached to the chain of the hook, and 

 to lengthen it I added the 50 odd feet of 

 line from a harpoon, or grains, lying on the 

 wharf. It is customary to make the end fast 

 to some stationary object, but I neglected 

 to do this. 



The fish offal had already attracted nu- 

 merous sharks to the immediate vicinity, 

 and I did not wait long. Soon there was a 

 sharp tug at the line. I let him have the 

 bait for a few seconds before striking, but 

 did not succeed in hooking the brute. I had 

 better luck with the next one, however, and 

 without assistance landed a small sand shark 

 on the beach near the wharf. Jonas slept 

 serenely through the struggle. I killed the 

 monster with an ax, baited up and cast out 

 as before. There was a large cat boat along- 

 side the wharf. My gaze being in that direc- 

 tion and toward the water, I soon saw a 

 jewfish swim slowly out from underneath 

 this boat. I hauled in on the shark tackle as 

 quietly as possible. When it was some 15 

 feet distant from the wharf, I saw him start 

 for it and take the bait. He chewed the 

 heads and hook for a few seconds, and then 

 started off. I succeeded in hooking him 

 well, and he made for deeper water in a 

 hurry. Happening to think of the line not 

 being made fast to anything more stable 

 than the grain pole. I shouted to Jonas for 

 assistance, being unwilling to lose both fish 

 and tackle, and feeling sure I could not 

 handle him alone. 



The 2 fishermen were the first to respond, 

 and by the time Jonas was on his feet, we 

 had the fish well in hand. Our united ef- 

 forts landed him on the beach, and I sur- 



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