FISHES OF OUR NORTH ATLANTIC SEABOARD 33 
It is a battle royal 
when one of these re¬ 
sourceful andunrelent- 
ing denizens of the deep 
is well hooked by a suc¬ 
cessful strike, and reel 
wars against fin—a 
battle that the novice 
is almost certain to 
lose, and that even the 
veteran of many vic¬ 
tories cannot count as 
w'on until the gaff has 
done its work. 
The Tuna is an in¬ 
habitant of many seas. 
In North Atlantic 
waters it is known as 
the Horse Mackerel, in 
the North Sea as the 
Tunny, in the Medi¬ 
terranean sometimes 
as the Great Albacore, 
and in California and 
southern Florida wa¬ 
ters as the Tuna. 
In the vicinity of 
Santa Catalina, Cali¬ 
fornia, Tuna angling 
has reached its high- 
water mark as a sport. 
The angling ground is 
a narrow, four-mile 
stretch of coast in the 
lee of the island moun¬ 
tains, where there are 
several small open 
bays, generally smooth, 
with wind blowing 
only a part of the day. 
The vicinity of Miami 
Beach, Florida, is also 
a favorite hunting 
ground. 
Such a fine fighter needs special tackle, 
if it is to be taken in true sportsman’s 
style, and if that tackle isn’t the best that 
ingenuity can devise and money can buy, 
it is safe to wager long odds that the prize 
will not be landed. 
SPECIAL BOATS FOR TUNA 
Special boats are required for Tuna 
fishing as a sport. They are broad- 
beamed launches, built for two fishermen 
and the boatman, who serves as engineer, 
helmsman, and gaffer. Usually each boat 
Photograph by Gilbert Grosvenor 
LANDING GIANT TUNA FISH, CAPE BRETON ISLAND 
The North Atlantic Tuna is the giant of his tribe, specimens weighing 
as much as 1,500 pounds having been captured. European varieties do not 
attain more than 500 pounds, and on the California coast they are still 
smaller. In the Old World the Tuna has been prized as food since the time 
of the ancient Romans, but it was long in gaining popularity in this country. 
is equipped with a three- or five-horse- 
power gasoline engine. 
Once a successful strike has been made, 
the game is to bring the quarry to the 
boatside with rod and reel. A little too 
rigid holding of the rod, a momentary 
failure to keep the line taut, a little lapse 
of skill in the manipulation of the reel— 
in short, any one of a dozen kinds of mis¬ 
haps and the battle is lost or begun again. 
Leaping into the air, running hither 
and yon, diving, darting, and fighting 
every inch of the way, the great fish 
gives battle. Often it lasts for hours; 
