July 22, 1911] 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
133 
excellence from a culinary standpoint, have 
made him pre-eminent among salt water fishes, 
and when you remember that, in addition, there 
is no law limiting bluefishing to a short period 
of a month or two, that one need not belong to 
a fishing club where the dues are larger than 
the average man’s income, and that any one 
with a boat or the means to hire one for the 
day, can get as good fishing as the millionaire 
whose yacht is anchored a cable’s length away, 
it is no wonder that the bluefishing is popular 
with the masses—all good sportsmen, but not 
all able to cast their lines in stocked waters. 
Forty miles east of New York city and al¬ 
most in the shadow of the Fire Island light¬ 
house, there is a certain spot in the channel 
which runs from Fire Island Inlet up through 
Great South Bay where, it is safe to say, there 
are as many, if not more, bluefish caught each 
season with hook and line, than in any place 
on the Atlantic coast. Although that particular 
piece of water does not cover over twenty acres 
of bottom, and it is fished continuously, from 
the time of the first run of the little fish weigh¬ 
ing from one to two pounds, early in the sum¬ 
mer, to the latter part of September, when six 
and seven-pounders invade the channel in quest 
of food, there are always fish there. 
On almost any day during the summer this 
portion of the channel is thronged with boats. 
From Amityville, Babylon, Bay Shore. Islip, 
Sayville, and even from Patchogue and Bell- 
port they come, although these last-named 
villages are fifteen and twenty miles away, re¬ 
spectively, a good three-hours’ sail unless a 
beam wind is blowing, which is seldom, for, 
nine days out of ten, from June to September, 
the wind is southwest, and on the tenth day it 
is more than probable, if there is any wind, that 
it will be from the eastward and storming, or 
a “three-reef an’ bob jib no’wester,” in either 
case poor fishing weather. 
Yachts, shining with brasswork, whose spot¬ 
less white sides are reflected in the blue waters, 
lie anchored beside dingy little fishing skiffs 
whose occupants are grizzled old baymen who 
have perhaps slept all night in their craft, 
odoriferous with the scents of previous catches, 
but who were the first on the grounds, and the 
last to leave, and have secured the choice of 
anchorage, and had half their fish caught before 
the yachtsmen dropped anchor. Then there are 
the party boats, so-called, whose owners make a 
business of taking anglers out for the day. One 
to two hundred of these are scattered about, 
each with its party of men, women and children 
anxious to haul in the much-prized blues, and 
darting in and out among these anchored craft 
are the little fishing sloops, whose occupants 
are towing metal squids behind them and work¬ 
ing the entire channel from the yellow sandbars 
on the west side to the flats of its eastern edge. 
Everybody is fishing, but everybody is not 
catching fish. One-fifth of the anglers who are 
patiently holding lines might be classed as 
fishermen, the remainder are amateurs of the 
rankest sort, and while they are bound to oc¬ 
casionally hook a fish, and less often to land 
one, their total catch would be small unless 
there were others on the boats skilled in the art. 
There is quite a knack in fishing for the blues 
and it is amusing to hear an old captain’s ex¬ 
clamations when some of his party complain 
of their poor luck. 
“Ain’t I toP yer, an’ tol’ yer,” he will growl 
disgustedly, “that nobody ever ketched fish 'les 
they fished for ’em. How d’ye ’spect to get a 
bite when your hooks all snarled up ’th grass. 
Yes, they’re hungry, all right, but they ain't 
fools ’nuf to swaller a hul fist full of weed jes’ 
to get one little hunk of bunker. Haul in—not 
that way, like an’ old woman. Here, lemme 
show you.” Impatiently he takes the line and 
hauls it in rapidly, hand over hand, and finally 
swings the hook, covered with seaweed and 
the bait entirely gone or invisible, around for 
his pupil’s inspection. “There, now, ain’t that 
a nice lookin’ thing to try an’ ketch fish with?” 
he asks scornfully. “Watch me now for a minit, 
an’ mebbe you’ll get somethin’ through your 
head.” 
These captains, an independent sort, are not 
in the least afraid of speaking their minds, and 
there is nothing that aggravates them more than 
to have a party of poor fishermen aboard. Each 
has a reputation to maintain and for one boat 
to return to the mainland with a small catch, 
while others report catches running up into 
the hundreds, speaks poorly for the captain of 
the craft. So he labors with the dull ones and 
praises the skillful, just as well pleased as they 
when fish are landed every minute, and at all 
times keeping a watchful eye upon the neigh¬ 
boring boats, ready to get under way and shift 
his anchor if he sees that they have located a 
more favorable spot in the channel. 
The principal secret of success in bluefishing 
is to keep your bait in motion. Allow the tide 
to carry some fifty or seventy-five yards through 
your hands, then haul in and repeat the operation. 
That is all there is to it, but, as simple as it 
seems, there are many who cannot understand 
the reason for so doing. Instead, they sit com¬ 
fortably on the after deck of the boat, in a 
chair if the captain is thoughtful, and after let¬ 
ting some sixty or seventy feet of line run out, 
hold the remainder jealously, indifferent to the 
fact that the swift tide has swept the baited 
hook to the surface of the water, and that upon 
it is rapidly accumulating seaweed and other 
floating debris. Then, because they have no 
success, they growl and kick and offer various 
criticisms upon their captain’s ability, and do 
everything but accuse him of deliberately anchor¬ 
ing the boat where there are no fish, and this con¬ 
tinual fault-finding finally irritates tlie usually 
even-tempered captain, and he vents his anger 
upon the boy who constitutes the remainder of the 
sloop’s crew, and the boy, not daring to reply, 
lapses into a sulky state, and whenever the cap¬ 
tain’s eye is not upon him, neglects the chum¬ 
ming, and that duty not properly attended to, 
the fish that may be astern leave for other and 
better feeding spots, and the final result is a 
disgusted party, an angry captain, and an empty 
fishbox. 
Next in importance to the proper selection 
of the day’s fishing grounds is the operation ot 
the chumming machine. With this is cut up the 
lure that attracts the blues, and unless it is 
properly attended to the chances for catching 
fish are almost nil. This chumming machine is 
nothing more than an ordinary sausage grinder, 
similar to one you might find in almost any 
butcher shop, fastened securely to a wooden 
trough. When in use it is set upon deck, to 
leeward, if you please, for the resulting odors 
are not calculated to suit the average person’s 
olfactory nerves, and the captain or the boy 
takes a bunker (menhaden) from the bait barrel 
and drops him into the machine. Then the 
handle is turned, and into the trough oozes a 
conglomeration of fish, blood and bones. This 
operation is repeated until the trough is nearly 
filled, a half pail of water is added to the 
mixture, and, properly thinned, it is artistically 
scattered upon the surface of the water with a 
large wooden spoon. 
Attracted by this rich and succulent repast, 
the voracious bluefish swarm astern of the boat 
and feast hungrily. Then a bit of the bunker s 
flesh, larger than common, incites selfishness, 
and there is a rush to secure this tempting 
morsel. But alas! The unlucky victor finds, 
when his jaws have shut firmly together upon 
it, that it conceals a hook, and fighting, strug¬ 
gling, game to the last desperate jump which 
fails to free him, he is hauled over the gunwale 
and placed in the fishbox. 
Keeping an unbroken “slick” and at the same 
time using a minimum of chum is the aim of the 
one who operates the machine. To scatter too 
liberal a supply of ground-up bunker upon the 
water means that the fish will become gorged 
and at length stop feeding, but to be niggardly 
with it and break the oily ribbon floating astern 
of the boat is verging close upon criminal care¬ 
lessness. 
Used intelligently. 150 bunkers will furnish 
bait and chum sufficient for a day’s fishing; 
really the fishing only lasts the duration ot a 
tide, either flood or ebb, the flood tide being 
usually the best, although it depends principally 
upon weather conditions, and the direction of 
the wind, and to fish two tides a day means 
early rising and a late arrival home. 
There is another method of catching bluefish, 
and for excitement it has chum fishing far out¬ 
classed. Possibly you do not secure as many 
fish, but then you do not want to, if you have the 
least sympathy for your hands. After you have 
pulled fifteen or twenty blues aboard and the 
red creases across your fingers begin to burn, 
and you flinch each time the fish makes you 
grasp the line tighter, you will commence to 
realize that there is some work in trolling, as 
well as added excitement. And then when you 
hook a six-pounder, add to the strength of the 
fish itself the increased resistance caused by the 
boat moving rapidly through the water and 
your arms will ache with the strain, and your 
whole attention will be necessary to the busi¬ 
ness on hand. 
Considerable difference there is between haul¬ 
ing aboard a fish when you are seated securely 
upon the broad stern deck of a motionless crait 
and when you are standing upon the narrow 
sloping deck of a little boat that is pitching and 
tossing, and it takes the better portion of your 
agility to keep from falling overboard. But that 
is where the sport comes in, a change from the 
monotonous round of bait and cast the hook 
astern, land a fish, and repeat. In trolling the 
boat is in constant motion, riding lightly over 
the crests of the seas, heeling over until her 
leeward rising is under water beneath the 
weight of a stronger puff than usual, and in that 
feeling of buoyancy and lightness that is com¬ 
municated to you, there is pleasure, which added 
to that obtained by successful fishing, makes a 
most enjoyable total. 
Block metal squids, holding large hooks—for 
