178 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Feb. 2, 1907. 
Homes of the Amber Jacks. 
Down along the Florida coast, beginning with 
the splendid beach of Fernandina, the sea rolls 
in with tireless energy and laves the sands 
with the warm, waters of the Gulf Stream, the 
vast volume rolling through the narrow channel 
and widening out in the North Atlantic, there 
is hardly a rock or stone to be found along 
shore, and the highest point, in all probability, 
from New York to Cape Florida, is a diminu¬ 
tive hill near the beach which I have often 
climbed at Pilottown on the St. Johns. 
The beaches vary much in general appearance 
to the close observer. In one place they are 
wide, the sea retreats at the ebb tide a re¬ 
markable distance, and the stroller along the 
sands can wade out a long way in shallow water, 
and ships that are wrecked at high tide are 
high and dry at the ebb. Again the beach is 
abrupt and precipitous. The area of breakers 
is narrow and soon reaches deep water. On the 
north side of the St. Johns the channel comes 
suddenly in shore, and on the south the sand 
dunes are ever changing, like the island _ of 
Anacapa. In calms they lie like sleeping 
monsters, huge krakens hauled upon the sands 
basking, in the sun; but does the wind rise 
they begin to move and a single day will so 
change them that the landscape of pne day is 
blotted out and replaced by another. 
I have followed these dunes from the Jersey 
shore down nearly to the mouth of the Rio 
Grande, and they are everywhere fascinating in 
their shapes and habit. Along the Texas and 
lower Florida coasts a strange outer bar has 
formed, a long attenuated ridge of sand, a 
series of islands formed by the so-called passes, 
as Aransas, in Texas. On the Florida coast 
this outside reef, island or sandy barrier forms 
the so-called Indian River that lies between it 
and the mainland, making possible some of the 
finest fishing in the south. The beach of the 
outside island is often wide, a splendid hard 
boulevard, and again deep water approaches 
the shore and many kinds of big fish come in. 
At the mouth of the St. Johns I have had 
sport with the channel bass, sea trout, call him 
what you will, but for the really hard fighter of 
the east coast of Florida one should try the 
waters near Palm Beach, Lake Worth Inlet, 
Miami and various regions in the vicinity of 
Biscayne Bay and from there down the reef to 
Key West, and camp on the trail of the amber 
jack. Palm Beach is perhaps the most con¬ 
venient place to try this fish and one of the 
best grounds, as this fine game for some reason 
comes in here so near shore that it is taken 
from the dock at times. Bpt the best fishing 
is some distance off the beach, anchored in a 
small boat beyond the breaking of the swell. 
The amber jack doubtless frequents the deeper 
waters of the Gulf Stream here, and his appear¬ 
ance so near shore is merely a foraging trip, 
as in localities where small boats can lie along 
the submerged reefs further down the coast the 
fine fishes may often be seen swimming along 
the reef in deep water. 
We may imagine ourselves shoving off some 
fine morning, the men skillfully pulling the boat 
through the surf and anchoring off the sands 
where the amber jacks are known to be. The 
air is soft, and the wind, what there is, is warm. 
The boatmen are blacks who know the country 
well, and the boat is soon anchored in a spot 
where some unknown angler in the past hooked 
a fish that towed his boat-far out into the Gulf 
Stream before it was gaffed. 
The equipment for the sport is a 16-ounce rod 
with a single tip, a tuna or tarpon reel holding 
600 feet of 2i or 24-thread line, a mere thread 
one might think with which to play so large a 
fish, but not found wanting. The bait, a live 
“spot,” is cast thirty or forty feet away, and the 
anticipating part of the sport is begun. The 
current is strong and sweeps the bagging line, 
and ever and anon the click will sound a note 
and the angler’s pulse will start and throb; but 
when this has happened several times and found 
to be the current, or a jelly fish sagging on the 
line, the angler quiets down and views the land¬ 
scape o’er—the long line of sandy beach, the 
groups of palms, and off at sea the deep blue 
waters of the mighty current sweeping on, 
freighted with semi-tropic treasures for other 
and distant lands. 
The boatman is telling of certain catches he 
has seen when, like an electric shock, comes 
the sharp staccato of the click. There is no 
mistaking it; no tide rip here. And see! look! 
the line stiffens, straightens out like a. wire, 
trembles a second, throwing the water in crystal 
■■■ 
PROF. HOLDER PLAYING A FISH IN AVALON BAY. 
drops, and then the game is given the butt and 
the reel screams, high and low, as the unknown 
jerks the line away in long and splendid bursts 
of speed. 
There is always the thought that it may be a 
shark or a ray, or some not desired vermin, 
but you have taken the amber jack before and 
its sturdy cousin of the Californian Islands and 
there is no mistake about it. 
Springing to your feet, with the butt of the 
rod firmly in the leather socket around your 
waist, you see what a game fish can do, what 
splendid strength he brings into play as he races 
away, dragging the line from beneath your 
thumb and the heavy brake seemingly playing 
with it. 
Fifty, one hundred, two hundred feet of line 
slip away before the fish is stopped, and then 
it appears to strike heavy determined blows at 
the rod, sweeping around in a splendid half 
circle, the line cutting the water and the fish 
rising with a peculiar motion. 
Amber jacks have been hooked here that no 
man could stop; in the language of the boat¬ 
man, “they simply walked away with the line,” 
then when the end came never stopped; and 
there is seemingly no limit to the powers of this 
fellow. 
The angler has a start, the thumb brake of 
leather stops the run and the big reel begins the 
pitiless work, and while the jack races he is 
insensibly coming in all the time. More than 
once he realizes this and plunges down, and if 
the water is deep enough, sulks and bores like 
a salmon and with ten times its force. But the 
water is comparatively shallow, and the game 
can only break away and dash off fifty feet 
to . be checked again and again. But it 
never really surrenders, never really dis¬ 
covers that it is in the toils. Like its cousin, 
the California yellowtail, it fights until it is in 
the boat, and even then I have seen a fish 
double and send itself whirling out of a barrel 
into the freedom of the sea. 
The angler can now see the jack as it races 
around the boqt, and the black boatman fingers 
his gaff ready to give it the quietus. Nearly 
thirty minutes have slipped away and the at¬ 
tempts of the oarsman to keep the angler stern 
first to the fish and the powerful rushes have 
carried the boat out from shore where the fish 
has plenty of water. The man at the rod be¬ 
gins to feel that he has earned his fish. In 
boxing, fencing or broadsword play there.is a 
“let up,” time for rest, but in this duel with the 
amber jack it is all one round, and arms and 
fingers are stiff and ache. Pressing the thumb 
on a leather pad for half an hour, holding a stiff 
rod in one position, is deadly, and the amber 
jack appears to have taken his second wind. 
Perhaps there is a third wind for amber jacks, 
as suddenly, when coursing along at the sur¬ 
face he apparently sees the boat and goes crazy, 
plunging down to the mad acclaim of the reel, 
tearing off the hardly won line and carrying 
despair into the angler’s soul. 
But this is the- beginning of the end, and 
holding the rod and line firmly the angler dips 
the point to the surface and lifts, “mans the 
pumps,” lifts for all he is worth, gains three 
feet on the sfculker, then dropping the tip, reels 
rapidly; and so ever repeating the trick—the only 
remedy when fishes will sulk—he regains his 
lost line and has the splendid fish in sight again. 
There is a flash of silver, yellow and green, a 
display of surface below the resilient rod, then 
the reel works it on to the quarter, and as the 
patch of color surges, hissing along, the negro 
gaffer drops his weapon quietly, skillfully under 
the fish and lifts him just under the gills, holds 
him firmly for a moment while the spray and 
spume fly, then depressing the rail, he slides 
the gallant fighter in, where he hammers the 
bottom as the angler perchance swings his hat 
to some distant and less fortunate friend still 
at anchor. These are the moments of joy in 
the life of the angler, and surely life is not a 
failure along the Gulf Stream and is worth 
living. 
The boatman gives the fish the quietus and 
holds it up, a sort of giant bluefish, and indeed 
a cousin, but a fish of entirely different mould. 
It is about five feet long; the scale limit is sixty, 
and the indicator as the fish is hooked on goes 
down with a sag, suggesting that eighty pounds 
is more like it. The amber jack is nicely pro¬ 
portioned; calling to mind the bluefish, but the 
head is larger in proportion to the bodL and 
solid, and the body is thick and high beneath 
the dorsal. The dorsal fin extends nearly to 
the tail and has a streak of gold in it like that 
of the California yellowtail, its Pacific cousin. 
The side fins are dusky and gold; the ventrals 
dark, even black, and vivid yellow. All the 
under surface is a vivid silver blazing -in the 
sunlight, while the upper surface is green or. 
amber in the water, flashing blue when out arid 
