144 
FOREST AND STREAM 
line on the bottom, although the water was only 
forty feet in depth. So far the catch had been 
two rock cod, each seemingly smaller than the 
other. Sam said his—a five-inch monster—was 
the largest. See insisted it wasn't so, but if it 
was, the one he caught was the best. It looked 
like both prizes and the value of rock cod just 
then was two dollars an ounce. Fair price that 
for any kind of fish. 
The handsome handler of the steering wheel 
was aroused from his nap with an order to hoist 
anchor and move to a little bay, where it was be¬ 
lieved a projecting pile of rocks would break 
the force of the current and permit the fisher¬ 
men to get busy again. 
“Better take in your fine, hadn’t you?” sug¬ 
gested Earnest to the writer. 
“Good idea,” he answered. 
Now, in effort to keep the line down where 
there was a likelihood of fish, a pound and a 
half iron weight had been used for sinker. It 
required a lot of pull to get it in —an unusual 
amount of strength it seemed—but it came slowly, 
and with it, twisted and snarled in the line, one 
hook in his stomach, another in his tail, a small 
dog fish or dog shark, eighteen inches long. The 
largest fish, which looked much like ten dollars. 
These salt water dog fish are really sharks, the 
same in every way except in size and color as the 
fierce tiger shark. They are of a bluish gray or 
lead color on the back, and, so far as the writer 
has seen, rarely over five feet in length, while 
their tiger brothers are spotted or mottled as 
the name would indicate and grow very large. 
Both are fiercely destructive to fish life, and when 
one has been caught it is necessary to cut the 
hook off and throw it away. No more rock cod 
will bite on it that day, the scent of the shark 
driving them away. The writer has been laughed 
at many times for making this assertion, but has 
never failed to convince the doubters whenever 
opportunity offered. 
The so-called salt water dog fish is very differ¬ 
ent from his fresh water namesake, this last 
being a thickly built fellow, with dark back much 
resembling a pickerel in color. Its nose is rather 
blunt, mouth wide open, with a single row of 
sharp teeth, and flesh soft and full of bones. Yet 
it is caught in quantities, shipped from the Middle 
West to the East in carload lots, smoked and 
sold, of course under some other name. The 
dog shark, on the other hand, is slim, twisting, 
snaky, with sharp horn or spur back of the dorsal 
fin, and a mouth underneath like all the shark 
family, so it cannot seize its food without turn¬ 
ing over. The flesh is firm, with but few bones, 
and if it is not as good as many other salt water 
fish, I miss my guess. In some local restaurants 
it has been served as tenderloin of sole. 
As the writer held up his fish there were good- 
natured growls and comments about the luck of 
some people. Then all gathered around the bar¬ 
rel and the game was resumed. The chug of the 
motor soon began, and the boat, helped by the 
tide, moved rapidly toward the desired point. 
“Going pretty fast for this fog, isn’t it?” asked 
Earnest, and word was passed forward: 
“Shut off some of your power.” This done, 
the cards were dealt and a jack-pot started, when 
without warning came a crash, a violent shock, 
and the boat stopped with a jerk that piled every 
one in a heap. Then she heeled badly to port, 
almost capsizing, and the starboard dipping water 
over the rail. The barrel was tipped over, cards 
and chips dumped and scattered. The pilot called 
in a voice trembling so he could hardly be un¬ 
derstood, “You’ve all got to swim! I've struck 
a rock and stove her bottom in; you’ve all got to 
swim!” 
This increased the panic. Sam and John rushed 
to the top of the deck house, Sam getting hung 
up on a nail en route which took toll both of 
flesh and garments. See, taking the captain at 
his word, ran forward, the boat having swung so 
its bows were nearest Angel Island, and jumped 
overboard with such force that the boat again 
tipped and the two on the deck house almost lid 
into the bay, and he then commenced a struggle 
to breast the current, which was running at leasr 
six miles an hour, and swim ashore. He drifted 
astern rapidly. Luckily the writer came from 
Floating Lazily While Their Occupants Lunched. 
