492 
FOREST AND STHEA.M. 
[June 24, 1899. 
A ^Gttlf Capture. 
Scene. — The Adllage of Tarpon, Mustang Island, or, as 
down on the mapSj "Aransas Pass, Texas." 
Time. — ^Early morning. 
Subject. — Fisherman. 
Object. — Fish. 
All night long had I dreamed of it, and as T emerged 
from the primitive dining room of the little seaside 
hostelry, and was cheerily greeted by the Boniface after 
an early breakfast, I felt sure tliat tlie day would prove 
propitious, 
For a Aveek Miad tanned in the soft Gulf winds, and for 
a week also I had daily sotiglit the blue-green waters of 
the Pass, casting, trolling and deep-sea fishing. Daily had 
I felt the mighty tug of the foraging tarpon, and daily had 
I witnessed the sight of the magnificent great-eyed her- 
ring as it breached — ^vomited, as it were — from the clear 
waters, its muscular length hanging for a moment in mid- 
air like the arc of a silver crescent cut gleaming against 
the sapphire sky. 
Daily had T fought for ray prize. My stubby rod had 
bent like a whip, and my line had cut the water" with a 
prolonged swish, while "reel had whizzed and whizzed 
until its revolutions had sounded hke the wind a-crescendo 
through the wires of an Eolian harp. I had tugged, and 
reeled in, and the tarpon had tugged, and reeled out, and 
the same end came in every instance — the tarpon escaped. 
Broken pole, broken line, broken hooks and broken 
heart Each had marked the outcome of the contest, and 
now, as I once more gazed at the wonderfully alluring 
vista. I felt that success must at last rest upon my efforts, 
for this day marked the close of my brief vacation. 
A pleasant breeze was roughening the face of the inner 
bav, and there was a slight swell coming through the 
Pa'ss, breaking ponderously on the rock jetty and curling 
smoothly upon the brown sands of the beaches. The 
offing was clear and a loud-mouthed bevy of tern made 
merry music as tliey dove for minnows near the inner 
point. 
My boatman was wading in the shallows castmg his net 
for bait, and as I left the hotel, and with my tackle, and 
strode energetically down the long Avharf, Dan dropped 
the leads of his net into the bow of his boat and there 
came the sound of small fish flopping, and I knew then 
the bait was safe, 
"Fine day for tarpon, Dan," I hazarded, mildly, for 
Dan was a great fisher of fish. 
"Couldn't be better," came the reply, as Dan bent to 
the oars and forced the flat-bottomed skiff from the cove 
into the Pass. "Saw a school break just afore you came, 
sir, an' thev're feeding mighty hard this morning. Guess 
we'll land a big fellow to-day and break our hard luck." 
This was consoling, and I confess to a feeling of en- 
thusiasm as I heard the water ripple beneath the bow 
and considered the prospects. I always liked to hear Dan 
talk that way, and although his optimistic prophecies did 
not alwavs materialize, the)'- were nice to listen to. 
The mullet kicked vigorously as I hooked it through the 
lips. This was natural, but as I made a cast and let the 
line fly out some 6oft., it fell into the yeasty crest of a 
small wave, and the mullet concluded there were better 
times coming, for I saw a little fellow swimming blithely, 
as if he were not on a big hook and baiting for larger 
quarrjf. 
"Guess we'dbeter take the -iitie," remarked the boatman 
as he let his oars drop. "The fish are running out, and we 
can drift and give your bait a chance to drop." 
I agreed with Dan. I always did in such matters. We 
allowed the little craft to drift easily along, my line sink- 
ing and the stiff current giving it a pull that kept my 
thumb on the brake constantly, and my senses on the alert 
for the anticipated strike. 
The man who has occupied a like position can well un- 
derstand the feeling that then takes possession of the 
fisherman. Each pressure on the line, the tremble of the 
blue passing water, the gentle movement of the bait, even 
the slight surge of the boat as it rises on a swell, each 
constitutes a portion of the whole, and in each, for the 
moment, the expectant angler finds the waited-for strike, 
only to realize the following instant that he has been mis- 
taken. 
I was sitting quietly thus meditating, when suddenly, as 
is always the case, there was a stiffening of the line, and 
the next instant came a musical whirr of the reel as it 
rapidly revolved under the pressure? The rod bent as I 
bore on the brake to set the hook, and then there was a 
quick slackening of the line, and Dan's voice came to 
me, as it seemed, out of the distance. 
"Get ready, sir, he's going out of the water."_ 
Dropping the point of the rod to bring the weight of the 
steel snood on the fish's mouth, I raised my eyes in time to 
see the voracious and splendid creature fly into the 
heavens, his great silver scaled sides glistening in the 
sunshine as head and tail bore toward each other. Then 
down he came. The water dashed skyward in a gleam of 
scintillating fragments, and once more the line tautened 
and the reel clicked and clicked until a hundred yards had 
gone to the worse, when the rush ended and the strain 
"Now's y-onr chance," yelled Dan, eagerly, as he "backed 
water." "Reel in while he's restin'." 
Maybe I didn't reel, but I did, wondering all the while 
that the fish did not again break, and it was only when 
the empty hook rattled disconsolately against the sides of 
the boat, that I ceased wondering. The tarpon had, to 
use the vernacular of the day, "flew the coop," and once 
again was I left swearing at fate and very much dis- 
gusted. 
"Never mind, sir," consolingly chimed in my boatman, 
"first one off, second one on," and with this cheery re- 
flection ringing in my ears, I mechanically baited and 
threw my hook into the. bubbling waters and prepared for 
the fortiine the fates should accord. 
The sun grew into the heavens as we slowly drifted 
.seaward. By this time the Pass was dotted with the boats 
of other fishermen, and in a fury of disgust I witnessed 
the skillful landing of a_6ft. tarpon by the man with a 
record. So intent was i upon this performance that 1 
forgot my own line, when I was aroused into action by the 
sound of my reel flying loose and a series of exclama- 
tions from Dan. 
"Put on the brake," he shouted excitedly, and as I m- 
voluntarily pressed my thumb to the rubber, there came a 
series of fierce irresistible tugs that made the line smoke 
and the rod bend with the terrific strain. 
"Holy smoke, what is it?" I queried with amazement, 
watching the wire-like line stretching into the deep waters 
of the pass. 
"Say, Dan, the thing ain't going to leap," I added, and 
all the while the line was going steadily out, although 
I had a pretty heavy pressure on the brake, and Dan had 
given the boat way, following the fish. 
"Hit her hard, Dan," I yelled, "or the dod-blasted fish 
will get every inch of line I have on the reel." 
Dan struck several fierce licks with the oars and gradu- 
ally the strain lessened as the skiff phmged ahead. It 
was no use trying to reel in, however. The fish, whatever 
it was, figuratively, had the bit between its teeth, and it 
set the pace with a vengeance, heading directly out to 
sea. Visions of liver-colored devil fish, monstrous snuid, 
sperm whales and the Lord knows only what, flitted 
through my mind as I felt the awful vibration of the rod 
and realized my inability to take an inch. 
I had been forced to edge tap, clambering almost over 
Dan's back until I reached the bow of the boat and 
knuckled myself into the angle with feet braced and teeth 
firmly set. My arms began to ache with the terrific pull, 
and my senses were on the qui vive, for I feared each 
moment either line or rod would give way. Dan was hard 
at work with the oars, and was too busy for speech. 
At last, when it seemed that an hour must have elapsed, 
there was a slackening of the line, and I reeled in with a 
speed born of desperation. Only for a moment, however, 
when the rush began again, the fish making a wide circle 
and changing his course into the inner baj--, something 
I was glad to notice, for had it continued seaward, nothing 
could have prevented its ultimate escape. 
Heading in, brought us against the current, and we were 
going heavily — like a new car with an underground trol- 
ley — and still the line pointed bottomwards and the 
quarry evinced no desire to ease up. Sheering first in one 
direction and then in another; tugging with intense earn- 
estness, jerking and towing — ^the thing on my hook con- 
tinued its mad career while I alternately gave or took 
line, and Dan sweated at the oars. 
I knew I had not hooked a tarpon. That much was 
certain, but what I had hooked, was so far a mystery that 
even so experienced a fisherman as Dan, in a brief 
breathing' spell, announced his inability to solve. What- 
ever it was, it was a whopper, and in that fact I felt 
reasonabl)'- hilarious, and even complacent, in spite of the 
probability of its escaping after all, and that my limbs 
ached from the prolonged exertion. 
We had been gradually veering toward the beach and 
shallow water. I was in hopes by this procedure to gain 
upon the fish and bring it to the -surface. I was con- 
sidering the probabilities contained in the proposition 
when the strain on the line slackened for the second 
time. I reeled rapidly for a minute and gained fully 20ft. 
of the line, when the water parted a score of yards ahead 
of the boat and a great brownish-black mass rolled heavily' 
on the surface, threw up a vast volume of spray, and then 
disappeared, but not so quickly but that Dan had seen it. 
"Jew fish," he tersely remarked. 
"Jew fish," I echoed; "well it's big enough to suit me, 
jew fish or whale." 
I had not time for furttier reflection, for the line again 
stiffened, but to my satisfaction, the rush of the fish had 
ceased for the time being, and soon the line was nearly 
perpendicular, the boat floating almost above the quarry. 
"He's sulking," said Dan, and I .soon realized what he 
meant, for nothing I could do resulted in budging the fish 
an inch, and I began to despair. 
"Give him the rod with a steady strain," suggested my 
fish-erudite boatm^an, and acting upon this suggestion, I 
bore heavily upward with brake set, and waited de- 
velopments. 
This was more than tbe jew fish could stand, and in less 
than five minutes he came from his anchorage as sluggish- 
ly as a captured pig, giving up the fight, and with all his 
strength and masive bulk, falling victim to a 27-strand 
cuttyhunk. and a hook that seemed like a toy within the 
broad cartilage of the wondrous mouth. 
Not daring to use the gaff, Dan gently worked the boat 
into the beach shallows, and until the form of the leviathan 
grounded clumsily upon the sands, gasping and resigned 
to its fate. 
Leaping int© the water, Dan struck the gaff into the 
exposed gill and slid our capture safely beyond danger of 
escape, bending the while beneath the weight of the fish, 
Then, and only then, did I breathe easily, and as I gazed 
upon the creature that had given me so much exertion and 
so much anxiety, I felt that the laurels were mine, and 
that disappointment was no more. Tarpon had I lost, but 
jew or June fish, I had gained, and in the comparison, 
nothing was missing. 
The beast was 9ft, in length, and weighed a trifle less 
than 75olbs., nearly all good meat and ugly enough to 
have satisfied anyone. 
I learned that only once had my capture been exceeded 
in size, and the record then had been a thousand pounds. 
"Jew," or June fish, similar in many respects to those 
great deep-sea bass caught off the Cataline Islands on the 
Pacific Coast, are more or less common in the waters of 
the Mexican Gulf, and are caught from Yucatan to Key 
West; but on the Texas coast, from Brazos to Velasco, 
the fish are greatly in evidence and, in fact, are frequently 
caught by the coast fishermen and seiwed in the chief 
Texas cities. 
Seldom, however, does it fall to the lot of an angler to 
land with I'od and reel, so great and so massively magni- 
ficent a member of the family, but in the warm waters of 
Aransas Pass, game of all description is abundant, and 
the ardent disciple of Walton finds everything grist that 
comes to his mill. H. M. Mayo. 
New England Fishing. 
Boston, June 19. — Moosehead Lake fishing continiies 
good, with brook trout rising to the fly in a very satis- 
factory manner to those who do not expect to catch 
bushels of trout at every outing. Mr. Walter L. Hill has 
just returned from his annual fishing trip to that cele- 
brated lake. He was accompanied by H. B. Kirk, of 
New York; W. H. Morrison, of New Y'ork; James 
Murphy, of Boston; James A. Greeley, Jr., of Boston, and 
E. M. Farmer, of Arlington. They had good fishing, 
"taking all the trout reasonable fishermen ought to want," 
says Mr. Hill. All were taken on the fly. 
Mr. Louis A. Aspinwal and Dr. Cutler, of Boston, have 
been on their regular annual trip down the river, below 
Providence, for tautog. They did not have the success 
of a year ago, the run of tautog having gone by, or some 
other reason, for exactly which the fishermen are some- 
what at a loss. But they got over a dozen tautog, and 
had a good trip. One little adventure concerning their 
bait is worth noting. Generally they use mussels, but this 
time they were bound to try fiddler crabs. The night be- 
fore they "baited up" a place on the shore with scraps 
of meat and other kitchen waste, and a little later they 
could catch the little fiddlers by suddenly jumping upon 
them, before they had time to get under the rocks. In 
this way they secured a tin pail full. The cover was put 
down tight, giving the little fellows only an occasional 
chance to breath as they went down on the steamer. That 
night the tautog fishermen stopped at a hotel. After 
supper they thought that they would stroll through the 
little town a while, leaving their pail of bait in their room 
with the cover just loosened a little, in order that the little 
crabs might not stifle. When they returned to their apart- 
ments the girls and everybody were excited. The little 
crabs had lifted the pail cover and were disporting them- 
selves over the corridors and stairways in profusion. They 
were taking particular delight in bumping down stairs, 
evidently bound for the water. The fishermen gathered up 
all they could, but it was some time before quiet was 
restored. Many of the other guests were afraid of fiddler 
crabs in their rooms, and generally the beds were thor- 
oughly looked over before the occupants "turned in. 
It seems that Big Bario Lake, Nova Scotia, is becoming 
noted for its trout fishing, though some of the first to 
find it have been keeping as still about it as possible. A 
party of Bostonians, consisting of Charles E. Tingley, 
Dr. Kellog and William E. Gray, have secured control of 
400 acres of land on the borders of the lake. The only 
other camp there is that of Mr. Frank F. Dodge, of Bos- 
ton, established two or three years ago. This year, on 
his annual trip, with Mrs. Dodge and son and Mr. Robert 
L. Pond, good success was had. The morning of their de- 
parture thev fished Silver River, taking a string of 105 
brook trout. The Boston party first mentioned has 
named its camp Graykelting. It is said that fishing rarely 
fails in this' section. While there are moose in the woods, 
no deer are noted. Big Bario is generally reached via 
Yarmouth; thence to Weymouth by rail, then a six-mile 
walk to Silver River, and thence by canoes. There are 
other wavs across the country. 
The Themes party has just returned from a fishing trip 
to Moosehead. In the party were F. W. Thomes, C. W. 
Hinman and F. J. Davis, of Boston; Henry B. Leach, of 
Toronto, and A. IT. Whitney, of Ashburnham, Mass. 
The gentlemen fished five days, and made a most remark- 
able record, including 94 togue, or lakers, and 124 brook 
trout. The total weight of their string was 36olbs. The 
largest brook trout taken weighed 3>2lbs., and was taken 
bv Mr. Whitney. 
"Considerable catches continue to be reported from the 
Rangeleys. Mr. G. W. Mitten, of Boston, stopping at 
the Birches, has taken two salmon of 4^1bs. each, and 
eight good-sized trout. Dr. L. T. Foss, of Boston, is hav- 
ing a camp built at Birch Island. Good fishing is reported 
at Kennebago Lake. J. S. French, of Boston, is having 
good success there. 
The salmon fishermen are getting started. Mr. C^ H. 
Barnes has gone to his preserve on the Restigouche, where 
he will be accompanied by Col. Stackpole and Mr. F. C. 
Fitch. 
The Maine Fish and Game Commissioners gave a hear- 
ing Saturday at the Upper Dam, Me., on a petition that 
the pool below the dam be closed to all fishing after sun- 
set till sunrise, from Aug. 15 till Sept. 30 each year. The 
claim is made that a great many trout, especially large 
ones, ate destroyed by night fishing, and often by ques- 
tionable means. Rather curiously the signers of the pe- 
tition, responsible parties, did not appear at the hearing, 
much to the disgust of the Commissioners. It is reported, 
in fact, that the Commissioners had to send out for some- 
one to represent the petition. After considerable delay it 
came out that the long-time guests and fly-fishermen do 
not favor the proposition, while guides and resid^ents of 
the State are in favor of some rule that shall prevent 
the annual destruction of big trout that takes place there, 
especially after they begin to gather at the spawning beds. 
The claim 13 made that the large male trout are inclined to 
fight everything that comes near to the beds, especially at 
night, and hence anything like an artificial fly or bait 
that is dropped near is seized. It is certain that some- 
