5°4 



RECREATION 



was acutely critical, the superb exhibi- 

 tion of strength made us loth to lose 

 such a splendid catch. Happily, the 

 bass himself solved the question by a 

 change of tactics. Ceasing his straight 

 away run for San Pedro he furnished 

 us one of the prettiest exhibitions of 

 finesse in play that ever an angler saw. 



Turning, doubling, circling, charg- 

 ing the boat in a vain effort to shake 

 out the hook while the line was slack 

 from the over-run, leaping from a 

 depth of fifty feet right to the surface, 

 running just below the air so that, from 

 rod tip to fish mouth, some 300 feet of 

 line glistened in the morning sunlight. 

 It was glorious ! Every fresh display 

 of crafty generalship but heightened 

 our admiration and respect. 



On the other hand, ''the man behind 

 the rod" had been from time to time re- 

 plenishing his stock of line with a cool 

 and practiced hand, and our chances 

 had brightened immensely. At last, the 

 fish halted, and by some mysterious 

 force, hugged his position in the water 

 so tenaciously that there was no budg- 

 ing him. Go out he could not, come in 

 he would not ! Probably two minutes 

 elapsed while the contending parties 

 thus "marked time," till the voice of 

 "Cap" warned us that "there is two of 

 you restin' and gittin stronger." 



Gently the angler commenced pump- 

 ing him, an operation by which the rod 

 is alternately raised and lowered. The 

 reel being held still on the upward 

 journey, an amount of line is gained 

 equal to the segment traversed from its 

 horizontal to its vertical position, and 

 this line is quickly reeled in on the 

 downward trip. Patient repetition of 

 this simple movement is the only man- 

 ner in which the great game fishes of 

 the sea can be mastered, for reeling 

 them in out-of-hand as one might a 

 two-pound black bass is impossible. 



Foot by foot, by Herculean efforts, 

 the fish neared the boat. Then a violent 

 twitching of the rod tip and thirty feet 

 would vanish over the rail in a burst of 

 speed. It was maddening to lose those 

 precious, hard-won, yards, more price- 



less than rubies to the panting, perspir- 

 ing angler. 



The relentless pumping was resumed, 

 and soon, down in the blue, a great 

 blaze of silver marked our prize, fight- 

 ing, struggling, game to the end. "Cap" 

 fingered his gaff gingerly, and, as the 

 huge bass was drawn nearer, he placed 

 a second gafT by his side. Though well 

 aware of the magnifying properties of 

 the water, our hearts leaped as we saw 

 his great size and we understood the 

 strength that had so astonished us dur- 

 ing the struggle. The gaff slid under 

 the massive body and with a quick jerk 

 sank into the throat. We were instant- 

 ly doused with water from the great 

 tail, but ^Cap' 7 holding the secured gaff 

 in his left hand took the second gaff in 

 his right and fastened that as well. 



I shall never forget "Cap's" tone as 

 he exclaimed, while lifting in the bass : 

 "Gosh, he'll go seventy if he weighs a 

 — ounce !" 



When the tremendous thud of his 

 tail as he flapped about the fish pen 

 shook the twenty-foot launch till the 

 boards rattled, I realized that the Tuna 

 Club's books were to be materially re- 

 vised under the heading, "White Sea 

 Bass," and the glory of "that fifty-eight 



pounder" was fast on the wane. 

 * * * ■*. * ^ 



Two hours later, with all our flags 

 snapping in the breeze, we rounded 

 Sugar Loaf and ran to our moorings. 

 While I rowed hurriedly ashore to find 

 the Tuna Club's weigher — and the pho- 

 tographer — the bass was brought in, to 

 the excitement of a large crowd that 

 had collected at "Cap's" boatstand. 



Every one held his breath as the 

 great beauty, dazzling, iridescent in 

 pink, white and silver, was strung up 

 to the scales. With caution, the weigher 

 adjusted his glasses and peered at the 

 magic figures. With one finger, he 

 slowly tapped the tiny weight on which 

 the fate of a record hung. Would he 

 never be through ? At last he seemed 

 satisfied, a broad smile spread over his 

 genial features, and he whispered 

 something to the expectant "Cap." 



