Nov. 3, 1906.] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
699 
A Yellowtail Saturnalia. 
There was nothing doing on the bay of 
Avalon. The men at their fishing stands were 
overhauling things. Hooks and snells were be¬ 
ing examined, reels were taken apart and oiled, 
lines were reeled up on open reels and left in 
the sun to thoroughly dry out, and the guides and 
lashings of rods were carefully looked over. Not 
a boat was out, the motor boats were moored 
well out in the bay and surrounded with hun¬ 
dreds of rowboats, around which the gulls 
sported. 
The yellowtails were all out to sea somewhere, 
no one knew where. It was a waste of time to 
run down the shore or even to the isthmus, there 
were no yellowtails to be found. The bay was 
full of sardines, shoals upon shoals of them 
darting here and there and making the blue 
water scintillate with the iridescence of their 
light-blue bodies. 
The men who cast the seines and supply the 
sardines for bait—there were always those who 
wanted to try for bass in the bay—had just come 
in to shore with their boat loaded to the gun¬ 
wales with thousands of smelts. They had 
thrown their nets industriously and with feverish 
haste, for they had seen yellowtail scurrying 
through the water after the schools of smelts 
and knew there would be quick sale for all the 
bait they caught. So when they landed, the cry 
went forth that the yellowtail were in from the 
sea, and that they were as hungry as sharks, 
and that the bay was full of them. And the cry 
resounded along the streets and through the 
hotels. A Martinique volcano upheaval could 
not have sent men, women and children any 
quicker to the boats. Men surrounded the bait 
fishermen, carrying empty cigar boxes, oil tins, 
pails, tomato cans—anything that would hold 
bait. Every one was in. feverish haste, for the 
sardines were acting like mad in the bay, leaping 
everywhere and keeping the water in a general 
state of disturbance. 
One by one the boats pushed out, in quick 
and noisy succession. Men and women kept 
running toward the beach, and as fast as bait 
could be had, were in the rowboats and off. 
Parties from the hotel preempted the motor 
boats. In a very little time every boat was in 
service, and when there were no more boats, 
many fished from the dock. And the fish were 
biting and no mistake. The yellowtail would 
refuse to chase the nimble sardine when a dis¬ 
abled one was to be had for the asking, so the 
baited hooks of the fisherman were given the 
preference over the live fish that swam about in 
thousands: The boats were all busy, rods and 
hand lines were swaying and cutting through 
the water. 
“I’ve got one!” and would come back, “So 
have I!” and then “Hurrah!” and then, “Gee 
whiz! but this is a whale!” and from a youngster 
who grips the hand line and braces his feet 
against the gunwale. “Some one help or he’ll 
pull me over!” and “Say, ain’t this great?” and 
so it goes. Not a boat is idle. The rod fisher¬ 
men, with butt of rod securely ensconced in the 
socket on the seat, are “pumping” away. Thumb 
well pressed on the brake, with the left hand 
an upward haul is made on. the rod, lifting the 
fish four or five feet nearer the surface, and then 
a quick dropping of the rod as the reel is 
hastily wound, until the tip of the rod touches 
the water. Then another strenuous haul up¬ 
ward on the rod, bringing the yellowtail still 
nearer the surface and again a quick reeling in, 
as the rod is quickly lowered to the water’s 
edge. And when you see a rod, this everlasting 
pumping is going on. Look where you will, a 
fish is being gaffed, a man has just had a strike, 
another is playing the fish, another has just 
cast in his bait; in fact, it’s action with a noisy 
and boisterous accompaniment. It’s a mad race 
now for a record. Did men ever work harder 
or more industriously, excitedly and deter¬ 
minedly than those men, women and children 
hauling in yellowtail? 
A novice at rod fishing for yellowtail, careless 
with his fingers at the reel, has laid down his 
unbaited tackle and is winding a handkerchief 
around his sore and bleed.ng knuckles, ham¬ 
mered black and blue by the thumping of the 
reel-handle that whirled like a windmill under 
the strain of the plunging fish. I think the 
aching and bleeding knuckles have calmed the 
ardor of the amateur, and he is diverting his 
mind from his own troubles by listening to the 
howl of distress that goes up from that motor 
boat from a lady with a rod who is learning to 
be a fair angler. 
Whether you use a rod or a hand line, yellow¬ 
tail fishing, especially if you will hurry the fish 
and are trying for a record, is strenuous sport. 
The hands and fingers ache handling the reel; 
the thumb tires and gets benumbed manipulating 
the brake, the wrist and arm get weary with 
the everlasting pumping, and what caps the 
climax, your back gives out and a feeling of 
“enoughness” comes over you, and you order 
the anchor up and are willing to go ashore. 
The bay is yet full of hungry fish, and those 
who are yet fishing are as busy as ever; but 
with many enough is the word, and sore and 
tired they are going toward the land. The old- 
timers, tough and seasoned, bronzed and 
hardened by many a battle, are pumping away. 
The boatmen, ever alert, stand ready with the 
cruel gaff that is driven home with a swift 
thud the moment the tired, panting yellowtail 
is half lifted from the water. The fishermen out 
of sheer exhaustion returning boat load after 
boat load to shore, the yellowtail keep on feed¬ 
ing upon the sardines and driving the nimble 
fish here and there and everywhere, making 
the water at times fairly , boil, as a more than 
vicious onslaught is made upon a school. 
The sun is beginning to cast long glints upon 
the ocean’s surface and the day is beginning to 
wane. Even the old-timers begin to cry enough 
and reel up and prepare for shore, aching in 
every bone in their body and not half glad it is 
all over. There are many who were completely 
done up, and among these many ladies who 
stuck to it and bravely held on and who landed 
the fish to the gaff unaided and all alone. They 
had time now to nurse their strained arms and 
more than tired hands and frequently wounded 
knuckles. But it was a great day, and many 
were the wordy battles fought over size and 
numbers taken. 
And what became of the fish piled upon the 
beach and hung up for show upon the hooked 
stands and photographed? Well, some few were 
eaten, but the rest, well, they went to feed the 
sharks out in deep water. But it was certainly 
a day of days to be remembered. The fish, after 
gorging themselves, scatter along the island 
front to waters that also afford them food, and 
where during the season they are sought for 
more or less successfully. Now and then they 
come into the bay, but not in the great school 
when they left the deep water of the sea and 
changed their diet for that of sardines. . 
But this everlasting hurry and pumping! Get 
him in, crowd him to the limit, hurry him along; 
reel him in, now gaff him, now for a fresh bait. 
“Ah! got you, have I!” and instantly the pump 
starts a-going until the very leather socket that 
holds the butt of the rod cries out in protest 
under the rough usage. It’s a case of setting 
the hook, no slack line and pump, pump, pump, 
until the gaff does its work and gives the coup 
de grace. And the thought comes over you as 
to the sport possible if only a heavy bass rod or 
a salmon rod and tackle were used. True, there 
would be something doing, and the reel would 
play out all its line, but what then? Is it more 
difficult to follow a yellowtail with a swift motor 
boat than with a canoe to follow a salmon in 
rough waters? And when you watch that 
seemingly brutal, physical-endurance pump¬ 
ing, you wish a heavy trout or salmon rod were 
in use, and you in your mind’s eye watch the 
sweep and bend and play of the rod and listen 
to the screech of the reel. But no; put on the 
brake good and hard, crowd it down and pump! 
The snell is of piano wire, the line is heavy 
linen and"that rod is all backbone and there is 
nothing to give; so pump good and hard and 
bring him up as quickly as you can and go for 
another. Hurry him along; don’t give him a 
chance to get his second wind lest you lose 
him, so pump away. And you go to bed that 
night and see nothing but stout rods, all of them 
pumping, pumping, pumping; and you see the 
fish emerge from the water and you see and 
hear the gaff sink into their glistening sides and 
hear the thud as the gamy fish is thrown into the 
box for count and record, and you give a long 
drawn breath, or sigh, as you may wish to term 
it, and fall to sleep. X. 
New York Anglers’ Club. 
Brooklyn, Oct. 23. —Editor Forest and Stream: 
These remarks are addressed to you in the hope 
that you will publish them, as from the atten¬ 
tion your paper gave the recent casting tourna¬ 
ment at Central Park, one might readily believe 
the paper to be read by all members of the 
Anglers’ Club of New York and others inter¬ 
ested in the art, and to those these remarks are 
addressed. 
On the membership list of the above club, 
and especially so among its officers, are the 
names of gentlemen who have had experience 
in the handling of similar organizations in times 
past—organizations which have long ago failed 
and been forgotten. Failures, and for what 
reason? Because professionalism and commer¬ 
cialism entered into the competitions and forced 
those gentlemen from the field who entered 
solely for the pleasure to be derived, to promote 
and further the interest of others in the art. 
The Anglers’ Club of New York has made 
some attempt to eliminate the above two bad 
features and insure its success by the phrase in 
its by-laws, to be seen in that book under 
Article XIII, Section 1, viz: 
“No person who teaches for pay the art of 
casting, who is engaged in fishing for the mar¬ 
ket. or has been so engaged; who acts as a guide 
for hire, or who has been so employed; or who 
is engaged in either the manufacture or sale of 
fishing tackle or sporting goods, shall be elig¬ 
ible to election as an active voting member, but 
may be elected to the club as an associate mem¬ 
ber. Associate members shall not be eligible 
to hold any office or to vote, and shall not be 
deemed as forming any part of a quorum at 
any meeting.” 
The above is all well and good, but does it go 
far enough? In the opinion of many anglers 
with whom I have discussed this matter and 
among them several members of the Anglers’ 
Club of New York it does not. While it pre¬ 
vents commercialism and professionalism en¬ 
tering into the very heart of the organization, 
it does not prevent it at the competitions, as was 
shown by the results of those held a week ago. 
When such gentlemen as Mr. Enright, Mr. 
Darling, Mr. Leonard and Mr. Mills, all of 
whom, I believe, are engaged in the fishing 
tackle business, practice and study the art purely 
and solely to excel and receive the resulting ad¬ 
vertising for the goods they represent, it is 
surely no inducement for gentlemen who prac¬ 
tice and make a study of the art at their leisure 
to enter into competition with professionals, as 
surely this is the classification these gentlemen 
should be entered under. 
Then, again, this professionalism will increase. 
Such concerns as E. Vom Hofe, Conroy, Abbey 
& Imbrie, Paine and others are not behind the 
times. They will enter these competitions, or 
hire others to do so in order to receive the free 
advertising, such as the Forest and Stream 
gave and other papers will give to the winners of 
competitions this year, to say nothing of the 
advertising the concerns winning this year’s 
events will do on their own account, which latter 
reason in itself is enough to keep the gentle¬ 
man who studies the art for pleasure out of the 
competitions. 
Then, again, if the competition increases be¬ 
tween houses who enter the events solely for 
the commercial benefits to be derived, and it 
seems to me it surely will, it will be to the ad¬ 
vantage' of these houses to discourage new 
people joining the club, as it would only increase 
competition for their entrants at the tourna¬ 
ments, while, on the other hand, if these con¬ 
cerns were barred from the tournaments it 
would be to their advantage to promote in- . 
