CHAPTER V
CLUTCHED BY A HORROR OF THE DEEP
In order that the valuable specimen of the oarfish might be properlypreserved, for the creature was so soft-fleshed that it would quicklyshrivel in the hot sun, the professor accompanied Colin to Astoria thefollowing morning, and shortly after they landed, the city was buzzingwith news of the wonderful find. Before the boy left for Santa Catalinathat evening he found his name in all the afternoon papers as being oneof the men who had "caught the sea-serpent." As this was the firstspecimen in perfect preservation that had reached any city of the UnitedStates and, indeed, only the sixth ever reported from American shores, agreat deal of interest was excited, and Colin was compelled to give aninterview to a reporter, telling the story of the capture. He was sorrythat his brother--to whom he had sent the blue fox--was not with therest of the family in Santa Catalina, so that he could tell him allabout it, but the younger lad was at a boys' camp.
Making a stay of only a couple of hours in Los Angeles, the boy wentfrom there straight to San Pedro, where he took the steamer for Avalon,the only large town on Santa Catalina, and the most famous place in theentire world for taking big game fish with rod and reel.
The passage was only of two hours' duration, and the weather ideal. Thewater of the channel was like a mirror, but the daily breeze sprang upat eleven o'clock, its accustomed hour.
Although no more attentive to scenery than most boys of his age, Colinfairly cried aloud with admiration as the steamer rounded the point andturned into Avalon Bay. Almost a perfect semicircle, the beach ofglistening white sand enclosed a basin of turquoise sea in which werereflected the dark, rich tones of the cliffs, all glowing like an opalbeneath the sun, while above rose the hills covered with the wild lilacand greasewood of California. Even the tame sea-lions which frequent theharbor and follow incoming boats, and which frequently are to be seenhauled up on small fishing-craft, seemed to fit wonderfully into thescene. A passenger who heard the boy's exclamation of delight, turned tohim.
"That's the way I feel about it," he said. "I think it more beautifulevery time I come."
"It makes me think of an abalone shell," Colin remarked thoughtfully,"before the outside is polished; the bay looks just like the glow of theshell inside and the sand-hills resemble the rough outside of the shell,with barnacles growing on it."
"Perhaps that is why it is called Avalon?" his companion said; "abalone,Avalon--it's not improbable, though I never heard such a derivationbefore; the Vale of Avalon in Pennsylvania is supposed to have been theprime factor in giving the name. But it's a wonderful place in itself,and besides, there's not one of those hundreds of boats moored in theharbor but could tell some thrilling tale of big game at sea. Look," hecontinued, as the steamer drew near to the entrance of the harbor,"there's a chap who's hooked to something big. By the way he's playingthe fish it's probably a leaping tuna. Wait a minute and I'll tell you."
He unslung his fieldglasses and focused them on the boat.
"Yes, he's got a tuna," he continued, "for the flag is flying."
The news spread rapidly over the boat, for almost every one on boardwas going to Avalon for the angling, and the capture of a large tuna isan event. The glasses were handed from person to person, and presentlywere passed to Colin, who noted with eager interest the littlemotor-boat and the big flag. Then he turned the glass on the people inthe boat, and flashed out excitedly:
SEA-SERPENT STRANDED ON CALIFORNIA COAST.
Showing length of small specimen and its semi-transparency.
_By permission of Prof. David Starr Jordan._]
THE SEA-SERPENT CAUGHT BY COLIN.
Oarfish, thirty feet in length, with flaming red upstanding mane, and aknife-like body less than three inches in thickness.
_By permission of Prof. David Starr Jordan._]
"Why, that's Father!"
"He's in luck, then," said the boy's companion. "I hope I get a chancethis season. Still, it's a good omen, seeing a catch like this whencoming into the harbor."
"Sure thing," said Colin confidently, "there are probably lots of themthis season. Do you suppose Father will land him?"
"About nine out of ten get away," was the reply, "and it takes a goodfisherman to bring them to the gaff. Has your father been here before?Perhaps I may know him."
"He comes nearly every year," Colin answered. "Dare is his name, MajorDare."
"Oh, you're Dare's son, are you?" was the response, as the older manheld out his hand. "I've known your father for years. He holds a bluetuna button, doesn't he?"
"I've never heard of it, if he does," Colin answered. "What's that for?"
"It is the greatest fishing honor that is to be got anywhere. Only aboutseventy members of the club have gained it; two, I believe, being women,and the second largest tuna ever caught on rod and line was brought togaff by a woman angler. It is given for catching a tuna weighing overone hundred pounds, on a light rod."
"That must be fearfully hard to do," the boy said; "even a twenty-poundfish is a strain to a light rod."
"It is difficult," was the reply, "but the club rules require the use ofa rod the tip of which shall be not less than five feet long, weighingnot over sixteen ounces in weight, and a line not over a 'twenty-four'or smaller than the usual trout-line. With this equipment, to conquer atuna weighing over one hundred pounds is an angling achievement of thehighest rank, and for this the blue tuna button is given by the club."
"And Father never told me!" Colin said reproachfully, watching thecontest with the fish as well as he could considering his distance fromthe scene of action.
"Major Dare is a thorough sportsman," the angler said, "and I supposehe thought it would look like boasting. What's happening there in theboat?"
"It looks as though they had started out to sea," Colin answered,handing back the glass.
"That's what's the matter!" the angler said. "By Jonah's whale, how sheis flying through the water!"
The two watched the boat until a turn of the cliff hid it from sight andthen, Colin, turning round, saw that the steamer was nearly at the pier,close enough for him to distinguish his mother and sister waiting thereand waving to attract his attention. He signaled enthusiastically inreply, and in a few minutes the steamer was alongside the wharf.
The greeting was most exciting, for the boy was simply bursting withnews, and there had been a good deal of anxiety felt by his parents onhis behalf while he had been wandering in the Behring Sea. But theirtalk was broken in upon by an enthusiastic angler friend, who beggedMrs. Dare to come to the extreme end of the pier and watch the battlewith the big tuna.
"Oh, Mother," eagerly said the boy, "do you mind if I jump in a boat sothat I can go out and watch Father better? I'm sure he wouldn'tobject."
"I think I would like to have you with me for a little while, Colin,"his mother said with a gentle smile, "after you have been away so long.But you are just the same, after all, eager to do everythingimmediately. I know you would be happier in going, so you can desert usif you like."
"I don't mean that, Mother!" said the boy, feeling a twinge ofself-reproach.
"No, I know. But you can tell us all the rest of your adventures whenyou get back. Lucy quite thinks that you have become a sort of 'RobinsonCrusoe.'"
Colin gave his little sister--of whom he was very fond--an unobservedhug, and then fairly sped down to the end of the pier and called aboatman to take him off. The boatman, who was a native of the place, andto whom everything connected with angling was an old story, laughed atthe boy's excitement.
"Goin' to catch a tuna with your hands, sir?" he asked, seeing that theboy was not carrying any fishing-tackle.
"No," the boy answered, "but I just came in on the steamer and, as wepassed the point, saw Father's boat, and he seemed to have somethingbig on the line, so I want to go out and see the fun."
"I heard Major Dare had a tuna this mornin'," the boatman said, castingoff and starting the little engine, "although there haven't many of 'emsh
owed up yet this season. Are you his son?"
"Yes," Colin answered, "I'm the oldest."
"I hope you're goin' to take after him, then," the boatman saidapprovingly; "he's a fine angler. Looks like the tuna was comin' in," hecontinued a moment later, as the boat with the flag flying came speedinginto the harbor. But the fish was darting from side to side in shortrushes, and it was evident that he was tiring.
"Hullo, Father," called the boy, as they came within hearing; "are yougoing to land him?"
"Is that you, Colin?" his father answered, without taking his eyes fromhis line, however. "Glad to have you back. Yes," he continued, answeringthe boy's question, "I think I'll land him all right, but I'm prettywell tuckered out, I hooked him over three hours ago."
Even recalling what the angler aboard the steamer had told him about thesportsmanlike rules that obtain at Avalon, it seemed absurd to Colinfor any one to try and catch so heavy a fish as the tuna seemed to be,with a rod and line that would be thought light for trout.
"How big do the fish run here?" he asked the boatman.
"'Bout a thousand pounds for the biggest game fishes, them's blacksea-bass," the man answered; "leastways there was an eight-hundredpounder brought in, and lots of us have seen bigger ones."
"But how can they catch fishes that size on a little bit of a spindlingrod and a line so fine you can hardly see it?"
"They don't," was the reply, "not that big. The record black sea-bass,rod and reel, that has been caught here was four hundred and thirty-sixpounds in the season of 1905. The biggest tuna--they're the hardestfighters of any fish that swims--was two hundred and fifty-one pounds,caught in the season of 1900. I reckon Major Dare's fast to one that'sjust a good size for sport."
"You're getting him, Father!" cried Colin, who had been watching thecontest with the fish, while listening to the boatman.
"He's a fair size," said the boatman critically, "but not one of thereally big ones, probably only about eighty or ninety pounds."
The fight came to a close sooner than Colin expected. Dexterously, MajorDare reeled in his line during a moment's pause while the fish sulked,bringing him to the surface, and his boatman, quick as a flash of light,leaned over the side and slipped the long, slender hook, or gaff, intothe gills. But the end was not yet, for the tuna, with a powerful shakeof his head, nearly pulled the man overboard, shook out the gaff, andcommenced another panic-stricken rush.
Colin's father, however, with thumb on the brake of the reel, gave himabsolutely no leeway, and the tuna was stopped within twenty feet, to bereeled in again. In the meantime, the gaffer had recovered his weapon,and as the big fish was brought to the side of the boat, he struckagain, this time succeeding in holding against the rush of the fish,though he was pulled elbow-deep into the water. Then, standing on thegunwale, the gaffer lifted the head of the tuna and tilted the boat overas far as was safe, sliding in the fish as he did so, accompanied by thecheers of Colin. As soon as the tuna was fairly secure, a big square ofcanvas was thrown over it to keep it from pounding and threshing in thebottom of the boat.
"That was bully, Father!" said Colin, reaching out and shaking hands;"I'm glad I got here in time."
His father looked at him with a twinkle in his eye.
"How the deuce did you know I was out here?" he asked; "I thought thesteamer was only just about due."
"I saw you as we came into the harbor," Colin answered, "and I yelledloud enough to be heard 'way back in Los Angeles, but you didn't pay anyattention."
"I thought I heard some one shouting a while back," his father said,"but I was busy then and didn't have time to see who it was."
"How big is the tuna, do you think?"
"Not big enough to be listed. About eighty-five, I should say. Whatabout it, Vincente?"
"Little more," the boatman said; "I think perhaps ninety."
"Nothing of a record, you see, Colin," his father said, "just a goodmorning's sport. But I want to hear all about your doings. It seems tome that you're developing into quite a sensational person with yourfights with whales, and your sea-serpents, and all the rest of it.You've been writing good letters, too, my boy. I'm glad to see that youmake use of your eyes when you're in strange places. Tell me how you gotto Astoria, I didn't quite follow that salmon business."
Colin started his yarn, but was only fairly launched into it when theyarrived at the wharf. There quite a crowd had gathered to welcome theincoming boat, for a big tuna catch always arouses interest in Avalon,and one of its features is the manner in which it is regarded as apersonal triumph for the angler. The promenaders gather to see the prizeweighed by the officials of the club, and it is rare that the customaryphotograph of fish, angler, and gaffer is omitted. As for Colin, he wasas proud over the fish he had seen caught as though he had held the rodhimself.
"I had thought of going to the other side of the island for blacksea-bass to-morrow, Colin," his father said, "and I purposed going withColonel Roader. I suppose you would like to come instead, and from whatI hear I think I'll put off that trip and try tuna again to-morrow. Youwant to come along?"
"I certainly should, Father," the boy said gratefully, "if it wouldn'tbe spoiling your fun."
"Not a bit, my boy," was the kindly reply, "I've been looking forward toteaching you something about real fishing. Beside which, I have an ideathat you and I will have enough to talk about to keep us going for agood while. I'd like to take you up to the club-house now, but you'llprobably want to get back home, and we'll go along together. I can getthe boatman to look after notification at the club, and all that sort ofthing."
"I'll wait, if you like."
"No; Vincente knows all the ropes as well as I do. I judge from yourletters that you've enjoyed running around the way you have?"
"I wish you'd been along, Father," the boy replied. "I've had a bullytime. I never expected anything like it when I got aboard the _Gull_."
"I didn't either," said Major Dare dryly; "if I had thought of thepossibility of the ship being rammed by a whale, you'd never have put afoot on her deck. But Captain Murchison said that whales were entirelyharmless, and so I let you go."
"But, Father, you should have seen the way the old whale charged"--andthe lad plunged into the thick of the story. He was fairly out ofbreath when they reached the little cottage Major Dare had rented for acouple of months, but the boy was by no means out of material, andnothing short of an absolute command could keep him silent long enoughto eat his lunch. In the afternoon he unpacked his trunk, revealinglittle quaint articles he had picked up on his travels as gifts for thevarious members of the family. But the excitement of home-coming hadtired the boy, and quite early in the evening he found himself gettingsleepy, so that not long after his little sister had been snugly tuckedup, Colin announced his readiness to go to bed, on the ground that hewas to get up early the next day, as he was going tuna-fishing.
The morning broke hot and hazy. The gray-green of the foliage on themountains had a purple tinge in the early morning light, and the seatook on a mother-of-pearl gleam behind its amethyst, as it reflected thechanging hues of the roseate sunrise. Over San Antonio and San Jacintothe sun rose gloriously, and in the freshness of the morning air thegiant flying-fish of the Pacific leaped and gleamed across themirror-smooth sea.
Colin drew a long breath and expanded his lungs to the full, as thoughhe could breathe in the glow of color and the wonder of it all.
"It always feels good to be alive at this hour of the morning!" he said.
His father smiled appreciatively.
"You're generally asleep," he said. "But it's a good thing we did get upin time to-day, for unless my eyes are failing me, I think I can see inthe distance the tunas coming in. Say, Vincente, doesn't that look likethem over there?"
"Yes, sair, I t'ink dat's a school. I overheard a man on ze pier tellingof a beeg one he caught yesterday," said the boatman.
"That was Mr. Retaner," was the answer, "one of the most famous anglersand authorities on fishing in A
merica. That's why I came out thismorning; he said he thought the school would arrive soon, and whatRetaner doesn't know about fishing isn't worth knowing. He practicallycreated deep-sea angling in America, so that as an industry it is worthmillions of dollars annually to the country, and as a sport it has beenput in the first rank."
Across the sea of glass with its rose reflections of the sunrise and thedeep underglow of richly-colored life beneath the transparent water,there came a quick shiver of ripples. Then half a mile away, butadvancing rapidly, appeared a strange turmoil, and in the sunlight, astretch of sea, acres in extent, was churned into white foam, lookinglike some fairy ice- or snow-field. Above this, at a height of about tenfeet, glittered a palpitating silver canopy, almost blinding in itssparkle and its sheen.
"What is that?" asked Colin, wondering.
"The tuna feeding and coming down the coast," was the reply.
As it drew nearer, Colin saw that the gleaming silver canopy was formedof thousands upon thousands of flying-fish, skimming through the air,dropping to the water every fifty yards or so, then, with a single twistof the screw-like tail, rising in the air for another soaring flight.
Below, from the surface of the water broken to foam by the tumult, wouldleap those tremendous jumpers of the sea, the tuna, plunging through theliving cloud of flying-fish, and dropping to feed upon those which fellstunned under their impetuous charges. Occasionally, but very rarely, atuna would seize its fish in midair, and it was marvelous to see a fishnearly as large as a man spring like a bolt from a cross-bow out of thesea, often until it was ten feet above the water, then turn and plungeback into the ocean.
"We'd better get out of here, I think," Major Dare said to the boatman;"this is getting to be too much of a good thing."
But, as he said the word, the school of flying-fish swerved right in thedirection of the boat, and in a minute the anglers were surrounded. Thesilent, skimming flight of the long-finned flying-fish, the boiling ofthe sea, lashed to fury by the pursuing tuna, and these livingprojectiles, hurled as a silvered bolt into the air, frightened Colinnot a little, although he was enjoying the experience thoroughly.
"Look out you don't get struck by a flying-fish," his father called tohim, bending low in his seat. Colin, who had not thought of thispossibility, followed suit rapidly, because the California flying-fish,unlike his Atlantic cousin, is a fish sometimes eighteen inches long,and he saw that if he were struck by one in the full speed of itsskimming flight, he might easily be knocked overboard.
"Can't they see where they are going?" asked the boy.
"They can see well enough," his father answered, "but they have littleor no control over their flight. They can't change the direction inwhich they are going until they touch water again. That's how the tunacatches them, it swims under in a straight line and grabs the fish as itcomes down to get impetus for another flight."
"But I thought flying-fish went ever so much higher than that!" said theboy. "I'm sure I've read of their landing on the decks of vessels!"
"They do," was the answer; "they are attracted by the glare of thelights and fall on board. But that is generally on sailing vessels witha low freeboard. You don't often hear of flying-fish falling on the deckof a modern liner, and in the few cases in which they have, it has beenbecause they happened to come out of the water with a rush against aslant of wind which carried them up twenty or thirty feet. They go withan awful force, and I knew an angler once who was pitched head firstoverboard by a flying-fish, and was nearly drowned before his boatmancould get him aboard. He had been struck square between the shouldersand the blow had stunned him for the moment."
"Suppose a chap got hit by a tuna?" queried the boy.
"That's less likely," the father answered, "because, you see, the tunacomes nearly straight up and down; he leaps, he doesn't skim."
"Zere was one went t'rough a boat last season, Major Dare," the boatmaninterjected. "It was late in ze year, after you had gone, I t'ink,sair."
"Had it been hooked?" asked Colin.
"No, sair," the boatman answered; "tuna don't leap after zey are hooked.It was when zey were chasing a school, just like this."
"You're thinking of the tarpon, Colin," his father said; "it leapswildly after it has been hooked. The tuna, although a wonderful leaper,hardly ever rises from the water after it is fast to the line. But thetarpon is a vicious fighter. A couple of years ago a boat was founddrifting in the Galveston fishing-ground off Texas, with a dead anglerand a dead tarpon. The fish had been hooked and had tried to leap overthe boat, striking the angler and breaking his neck, then had falleninto the boat itself and had not been able to get out."
"There's some excitement to fishing when it's like that!" Colincommented.
"It's as good as big-game hunting any day, I think," his fatheranswered; "and you don't have to travel for weeks out of civilizationto find it. Well, now, we'll give you a chance to show how much of theangler you've got in you."
WHERE THE BIG TUNA WAS CAUGHT.
The Bay and City of Avalon, Santa Catalina Islands, Cal., the mostfamous sport-fishing centre in the world.
_By permission of Mr. Chas. Fredk. Holder._]
THE LARGEST SUNFISH ON RECORD.
Estimated at over 2500 pounds, caught off Avalon, Santa Catalina.
_Courtesy of the U. S. Bureau of Fisheries._]
He handed Colin a rod and the boy looked at it. It was nearly seven feetlong, and the whole weight of it, except for the short butt which heldthe reel, was not more than sixteen ounces. The line was thin enough tobe threaded through a big darning-needle, it was known as '21 thread' asit had that number of strands, each strand being tested to a breakingstrain of two pounds.
"Something will smash, sure," said Colin, examining the outfitcarefully; "that looks as though it wouldn't hold a trout!"
"The rod is a split bamboo," his father said, "and if the line breaks itwill be because you've allowed the fish to jerk. Anybody can catch fishwith a heavy line, but the fish hasn't got any chance, and there's nosport in it. It's on a par with shooting quail sitting instead offlushing them. Good angling consists in landing the heaviest fish withthe lightest tackle, not in securing the greatest amount of fish. Why,here in Avalon, there isn't a single boatman who would allow his boat tobe used by a 'fish-hog' who wanted to use heavy tackle."
He had hardly finished speaking when there came a quiver on the line,and excitedly Colin jerked up his rod.
"Don't strike with a jerk!" his father cried, but Colin was in fortune,and the line did not break. The reel screamed "z-z-z-ee" with the speedof its revolutions as the tuna sped to the bottom, and the older angler,leaning forward, wetted thoroughly the leather brake that the boy washolding down with his right thumb.
"Easy on the brake," came the warning; "don't put too much strain on theline or she'll snap!"
But Colin had the makings of an angler in him and he was ableinstinctively to judge the amount of pressure that was needed. The tuna,followed by a sheet of spume-blue water churned by the rapidly-towedline, plunged on and on, until two hundred and fifty feet of line hadbeen run out. Then, from the ice-cold bottom, rising as a meteor dartsacross the sky, the great fish clove the water to the surface.
"What will I do when he leaps?" asked Colin breathlessly, reeling fordear life as soon as he felt the upward dash of the tuna.
"He won't leap after he's hooked," his father said; "they very seldomdo. I told you that before. It's the tarpon that plunges and leaps afterbeing hooked."
The tuna reached the surface with a speed that seemed incredible to theboy, and though he had been reeling as rapidly as he could make hisfingers fly, even the big multiplier on the reel had failed to bring inall the slack. The tuna, panic-stricken by the strange line that hissedbehind him and which he could neither outrace nor shake off, tried tocharge the loops of twine that the reel had not yet been able to bringin. The sea fairly seemed to boil as the fin of the tuna cut through thewater at the surface.
"Look out now
, Colin," the boy's father called. "He'll see the boat in aminute!"
He did. On the instant he saw the launch and the three men in it, and inthe very midst of his charge, the body bent and shot into the depthsagain.
"Watch out for the jerk!" the older angler cried, and as the fishreached the end of the slack line there was a sudden tug which Colinfelt sure meant a lost fish. But his father's warning had come in time,and by releasing the thumb-brake entirely when the tug came, the reelwas free, and it rattled out another fifty feet, the boy graduallybeginning to apply the pressure again and to feel the tuna at the end ofthe line.
One hundred, two hundred, three hundred feet of line reeled out at thissecond great rush, and the older man began to look grave as the big reelgrew empty.
"Ought I to try and stop him with the brake, Father?" asked the boy.
"Better not try too hard," came the cautious answer, "the weight of theline that is out is a heavy pull on him. Unless he's a monster he'llhave to stop soon."
Fifty feet more of line ran out before the rush stopped, and then achange of action at the other end of the line telegraphed the message tothe boy's fingers that the tuna, for the first time in its life, hadfelt fatigue. From over four hundred feet away Colin felt the call andrealized that now he might expect a victory if only he could keep up thefight to the end and never make a slip. One error, he knew, would befatal; one jerk, and the line would snap, one strain too great, and thestrands would give way.
He began to reel in. His back ached and his fingers became cramped, butstill he reeled, every fifty feet or so having to let the line run outas the tuna made a rush, so that a quarter of an hour's careful bringingin would be spoiled in thirty seconds. In forty minutes of heartbreakingstrain, the boy had gained not more than forty feet of line, but he wasgame and stuck to it manfully. Reeling in carefully, the fish eithersulking or resting, in the next few minutes he won his greatest gain andpulled in until there was not more than one hundred feet of line out.His heart was beating high with hope, when the tuna sighted the boatagain and darted away, apparently as fresh and full of fight as when hehad at first been hooked.
At this last rush, when it appeared that there was no immediateslackening of the powers of the splendid fish, Major Dare said:
"Do you want me to finish him for you?"
In his inmost heart Colin feared that he would have to give up, but hedid not want to admit it. He was utterly inexperienced in the sport andknew nothing of the many ways whereby older anglers relieve themselvesof much of the strain, but the boy's nerve was untouched, and he set histeeth and answered:
"I want to bring him in all by myself, if I can, Father. I'm not doneyet, not by a long shot. But if you think I ought to let you finish it,why, I suppose I'll have to."
"No, I want to see you bring him in," his father said; "only don't killyourself at it. It's just as well not to overstrain yourself; it's easyto have too much energy without judgment."
The boy's grit was soon rewarded, for after this rush, the tuna changedhis tactics, and sinking down to about thirty feet from the surface,began a steady powerful swim, not a rush, but a straightaway, havingabout two hundred feet of line out. To the boy's surprise the boat beganto slip along at a fair rate of speed, and he saw that miracle ofangling, a hundred-pound fish, frightened and angry, towing a heavy boatwith three people in it at a rate of five miles an hour by a line nothicker than a hairpin. With constant watchfulness and deft management,the boy was able to gain a few inches at a time. But a few inches makebut little difference when there is two hundred feet of line out!
For over twenty minutes the tuna towed the boat, and then his moodchanged. Though not by any means exhausted, the first undauntedfreshness had worn off and, sulky and savage, the fish charged back atthe line again, that strange white thing in the water that he could notshake off and that followed him no matter where he went. But in chargingback at the line, as before, he found the boat at the other end of it.The return charge had been slower than before, and the big multiplier onthe reel had done its work, so that when the tuna came near the boat notmore than seventy feet of line was out, and the boy determined to holdon to this.
Reaching the surface of the water, the tuna turned. But this time therewas no slack and the fish could not begin a rush. He would not plunge inthe direction of his captor, and Colin kept a steady strain upon theline, forcing the tuna to swim round and round the boat. This was fatalto the fish, for Colin was able to keep a sidewise drag upon the line,giving the tiring creature no chance to turn its head and dash away.
"You're playing very well!" the boy's father approvingly said, as he sawhow, unconsciously, the lad was adopting tricks of angling someexperienced fishermen never really learn.
Colin flushed at the praise, and kept closer watch of the constantstrain on his line. The boatman, seizing every opportunity, ever andagain thrust the boat forward, giving the lad a chance to take in moreslack, so that the tuna swam in ever lessening circles. Suddenly he madea sharp flurry and tried to dive. But the line was tight and the brakeheld him closely, the lifting action curving the giant body in spite ofitself and preventing the dive.
The attempt had cost the fish full thirty feet of liberty, and the boatwas very near. With a little pumping--that is, raising the rod slowly,then dropping the point quickly and reeling in the foot or so gained,the boy's father showing him how this should be done--Colin brought thefish still nearer. Once more the tuna came up to the surface with a rushin order to get slack enough for a plunge. This might mean that thewhole performance would have to be done over again, but again the fishwas checked, Colin having the line reeled up almost to the wire leader,and with a quickness that was wonderful in its accuracy, the boatmanneatly dropped the gaff under the jaws of the tuna. There was a short,sharp flurry, but Vincente knew every trick of the game and speedilybrought the gallant fish on board.
"Two hours an' ten minutes, sair," said the boatman. "An' I t'ink, sair,zat it's over a hundred."
"You did splendidly, Colin," began his father. "Why, what's the matter?"he continued in alarm, as the boy sank back in his seat, looking paleand sick.
"I'm a bit done up, that's all," the boy answered, gasping. His handswere trembling so that he could not hold the rod, and his face wasashen.
"Buck fever, I suppose?"
"Yes, sair; he's all right in a minute," said the boatman. "It does zatevery little sometimes, Major Dare. I've seen even ze old angler getvery much tired out after ze strain."
"It's the reaction," said Colin's father, as he laved the boy'sforehead, and just as Vincente had said, in a moment or two the colorcame back into the lad's cheeks and he straightened up.
"Silly to act like that," he said. Then, seeing his father's look ofconcern, he added, "I feel as though I'd like some grub."
Kindly refraining from increasing the boy's embarrassment by commentingon his exhaustion spell, the older man reached for the basket and handedout a package of sandwiches. Two hours of excitement and exertion in thehot sun, following a very early breakfast, had affected Colin sharply,but boy-like, he was always ready for eating.
"That was what I wanted," he said, as a few bites disposed of the firstsandwich and he took another.
The boatman nodded approvingly.
"He's goin' to be fine angler, all right," he said. "Major Dare, if zattuna's over a hundred, ze boy ought to get ze button. Zat's ze right rodan' line an' it was caught accordin' to ze rules of ze club."
"Could I really get a button?" asked Colin excitedly, the very thoughtdriving away the last remnants of his attack of weakness. "Is it reallya tuna? And is it over a hundred pounds?"
"It's a tuna without question," his father answered, "but I'm not sosure about the weight. If Vincente says it is, he's likely to be right."
"Near one hundred and ten, I t'ink," the boatman answered, "an' I'm sureover one hundred. 'Bout one hundred, six or seven, I should t'ink."
"Do you want to put out the line again, Colin?" his father asked.
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"Thank you, I've had enough for one day," the boy replied. "Let's seeyou get one, Father!"
It was a great delight to lie back on the seat with the consciousnessof a great feat achieved, to watch the gulls and sea-birds overhead andthe flying-fish skimming the rippling sea. Major Dare had excellentsport with a couple of yellowtail--one of which was played fifty minutesand the other thirty-five--but the honors of the day rested with Colin.It was nearly noon as the little launch came up to the pier, and the sunwas burning hot, but there were a score of loungers on the beach towelcome them.
"Any luck, Vincente?" called a friendly boatman, as the little craftsped by.
"Good luck," was the reply. "Boy got a hundred-pounder!"
"Did, eh?" exclaimed the other boatman, turning round to stare, andColin felt that this really was fame. Word was sent to a member of theweighing committee of the club, and in his presence the fish was put onthe scales. It proved not to be as large as Vincente had thought, beingbut one hundred and four pounds, but this was a clear margin over thehundred, and Colin was just as well pleased as if it had been a hundredand forty.
He was eager beyond words to know what would be the verdict of the club,but as the catch had been officially registered, was thoroughly withinthe rules, and Major Dare was a valued member of the club, it wasunanimously agreed that a blue button should be awarded to Colin. He wasaccordingly elected to junior membership and so received it. The nexttwo weeks passed all too quickly for the boy, for he got the fishingfever in his veins, and if he had not been held in check, he would havestayed on the water night and day. He made a very creditable record,getting a thirty-pound yellow-tail and several good-sized white sea-bassand bonito. But he never even got a bite from one of the big blacksea-bass, though his father made a splendid four-hour fight, landing atwo-hundred-pounder. The lad's tuna of a hundred and four pounds, also,was far outdone by one his father caught ten days later, which scaledexactly one hundred and seventy pounds.
Three times, in the next two weeks, Colin found himself again fast to atuna, but was unable to land any of the three. His first he lost byjerking too quickly at the strike. The second walked away with hisentire six hundred feet of line at the first rush, and probably was afish beyond the rod and reel capacity, and the third broke the linesuddenly in some unexplained way, possibly, the boatman said, becausethe tuna had been seized by a shark when down in thirty fathoms ofwater.
"Does the tuna live on flying-fish only, Vincente?" asked Colin of theboatman, a couple of days before he was going to leave.
"Mos'ly zey do, sair, I t'ink," was the reply, "zat is, when zey can getdem. But zey'll eat nearly any fish an' zey are quite fon' o' squid.Some fishermen use squid for tuna bait, but I don't t'ink much of zeidea."
"Let's see," said the boy thoughtfully, "a squid is something like anoctopus, isn't it?"
"Well, no, sair, not exac'ly," the boatman answered. "Bot' of zem havearms wavin' around, but zey look quite diff'rent, I t'ink. An' a squidhas ten arms, but an octopus has jus' eight."
"Eight's enough, it seems to me," said Colin. "And are there many ofthem here? I suppose there must be if they use them for bait."
"Yes, sair, zere is plenty of zem hidin' in ze kelp and ozzer seaweed."
"But how do you catch them?" asked the boy. "Isn't it dangerous?"
"Not a bit, sair," answered the boatman. "I t'ink a squid can't do anyharm. In Newfoun'land, so some one tell me, zey run as big as sixty andseventy feet, but in Santa Cat'lina, four or five feet from ze tail toze end of ze arms is as long a one as I have seen, I t'ink."
"I'd like to go catching squid, just to see how it's done," said theboy. "The squid I've seen on the Atlantic coast don't often grow biggerthan twelve inches."
"Catch plenty of zem, any evening you say," the boatman answered; "zeeasiest way is to spear zem."
"Bully!" the boy answered; "let's go to-night! I'll get leave, when I goback to lunch."
When Colin proposed a squid-hunt, at first his mother objected, sayingshe was sure such ugly-looking creatures must be poisonous, but thefather knew that this was not the case, and having every confidence inVincente, who was his regular boatman, he gave the desired permission.Accordingly, after an early supper, Colin started out with Vincente to asection of the shore. The tall, sharp cliffs jutted straight out of thewater, and far upon the crest were the characteristic flock of goatsbrowsing along paths impassable to any other animal. Below the water laythe forest of giant kelp.
"We s'all find some squid 'round here," the boatman said; "and sometimeszere are octopus, too, though ze mos' of zem are on ze rocks a littlefurzer along."
"We'd better get busy, I think," said Colin, "it won't be so very longbefore it begins to get dark."
"We'll see," was the reply, and picking up his gaffing-hook, Vincenteprodded here and there amid the kelp. "T'ought so," he added a minutelater, and pointed at the water.
"I don't see anything," said Colin, looking closely. "The water's toomuddy."
"No mud," said the boatman, "zat's sepia ink ze squid has squirted so asto hide. Zey always do zat. Zere's probably a lot of zem zere, for zeyalways keep togezzer."
"Is that the real sepia ink, do you know, Vincente?" the boy asked.
"Ze squid, no; ze octopus, yes. Zere is two or t'ree people here zatcatch ze octopus an' sen' ze ink bags to Frisco. See, zere's squid!"
As his eyes became a little accustomed to the reflections in the weed,Colin was able to see ghostlike brown forms that seemed to slide ratherthan swim through the water.
"Do they swim backwards?" he asked in surprise.
"Always, I t'ink," said the boatman. "Zey take in water at ze gills andzey shoot it out from a pipe near ze mout', an' zat way zey pushzemselves along tail first. I'll bring ze boat closer to ze shore forzey'll back away from ze boat an' get into shoal water where we canspear zem."
Moving very slowly and beating the seaweed as they went, little bylittle the two drove the hosts of squid back through the kelp to anarrow bay, the water being turned to a muddy brownish-black by thedischarge of the ink-bags. The squid were of fair size, ranging from oneto four feet in length, of which the body was about one-third. PresentlyVincente's hand shot back a little and, with a quick throw, he cast the'grains,' as the small-barbed harpoon was called, into the midst ofthem. Colin's eyes were not quick enough to see the squid, but theboatman smiled.
"Got him zat time!" he said. "Pull him in."
Without a moment's hesitation Colin grasped the rope that was attachedto the small harpoon.
"Don't jerk," the boatman warned him; "ze flesh isn't very tough an'unless you pull steady ze spear will draw right out."
Suddenly Colin felt the rope tauten.
"What's the matter?" he said. "I can't move it."
"Ze squid has got hold of ze bottom," said the boatman with a laugh."No, you can't move him. Nozzing move a squid, after he's got hold ofsomet'ing. He'll hang on to ze bottom till ze end of ze world, an' he'dlet himself be cut to pieces before he'd let go his hold. Better jerk zespear out!"
Colin gave a quick yank and the barbed harpoon came up with the blade asclean as though it had never been plunged into anything.
"Zere!" the boatman cried, as Colin stood holding the 'grains,' "onegreat big one right under you!"
Colin had no time for aim, but seeing a vague shadow below the boat, heallowed for the refraction of the water, and threw the small barbedspear with all his might. His cast was as clean as though he wereexperienced, and as he grasped the rope he cried to the boatman with alaugh:
"Beginner's luck!"
"Don't let him get to anyt'ing solid," the boatman warned him. "Jus'keep him from zat an' you're all right. Don't play him like a fish. Jus'pull him in."
This was child's play, for the squid's queer method of going through thewater offered no resistance and he was pulled up to the boat. But nosooner had the cephalopod come within reach than the tables were turned.With the speed of light the creature swung over, threw two of i
ts armsunder the boat; one clasped the gunwale and others fixed themselves onthe boy's bare arms, while two waved freely as though waiting a chanceto twine around his neck and strangle him.
Colin yelled with fright. As the cold, clammy suckers crinkledthemselves into his flesh, the skin all over his body seemed to creep indisgust. He had been bending over as he hauled up the rope and thesquid's tentacles around his arms held him poised half out of the boat,his head not more than a foot and a half from the surface of the water,looking straight into the hypnotic, black, unwinking eyes of thesea-monster.
The instinct of fright arose. Using all his strength, he raised hisright arm and grasped the tentacle that had been wound around his leftarm. To his surprise he found that a moderate amount of force only wasneeded to pull the grasp of the tentacle free, and he released himselffrom the creature almost without difficulty. Nor, except for a slightlyreddened spot on his arms, was there any outward evidence of theencounter.
Vincente reached down for the cephalopod, allowing it to wrap some ofthe tentacles about him, then pried its grasp from the boat with thehandle of the gaff. He made no attempt to free himself from the squid,but as he stood still for a minute or two, the creature voluntarilyreleased its hold, falling to the bottom of the boat.
"Zey haven't any strengt' at all out of ze water," the boatman said,"but while swimming zey have a good deal. See, ze whole body of zatsquid isn't more zan two feet long, an' yet if he'd got a hold of you inze water, specially with ze bigger suckers on ze t'ick part of ze arms,you might have had some trouble. Zose big fellows wit' bodies twentyfeet long an' arms t'irty feet, mus' be one horrible t'ing to meet on adark night."
"But would they attack you?"
"Never, I t'ink," said the boatman. "Ze biggest of zem hasn't a beaklarge enough to take in a herring."
"Well," Colin said, "I suppose that really wasn't as exciting as itseemed, but I tell you, for a while, I felt as if I was having all thethrill I wanted."
"You ought to try ze octopus, now," said the boatman with a chuckle;"zat is, if you've had enough of ze squids. It's early yet an' we mightgo after some of zose octopuses zat hunt crabs."
"I'm ready," said Colin. "They won't get me by surprise, like that squiddid!"
The sun was near the horizon when Colin and the boatman landed on therocky shore, and the sunset colors were gorgeous. But Colin did not wantto run any chances of being caught napping, and he followed Vincente,watching every move. Presently the boatman stopped and pointed, like adog flushing a covey of partridges.
About eight feet away was a crab of fair size, perhaps six inches acrossthe shell. Half-way between where they stood and the crab, right on theedge of the water, was a small octopus with its large, glaring, greeneyes fixed on the crab. This was at first the only sight Colin could getof the creature, but by looking into the water closely, he was able tomake out the vague shape of the octopus. The cuttlefish had changed fromits natural color to the exact hue of the sandy bottom on which it wascrawling, and it was advancing so slowly that its progress could hardlybe seen.
OCTOPUS CAUGHT AT SANTA CATALINA, TWENTY-TWO FEET ACROSS.
_By permission of Mr. Chas. Fredk. Holder._]
SQUID CAUGHT AT SANTA CATALINA, 20 FEET IN LENGTH.
(In Newfoundland a species reaches 70 feet.)
_By permission of Mr. Chas. Fredk. Holder._]
Suddenly, as a wave washed it within a few feet of the crab, two of thetentacles darted out so swiftly that Colin could scarcely follow themove until they were upon the crab, the rest of the body of the octopusflattening itself upon the sand as though to secure a greater purchase.The crab set both its claws into the soft flesh of the tentacles,whereupon, with a series of horrible convulsions, the cuttlefishlumbered entirely out of the sea and, with two or three repulsive andsinuous gyrations, it forced itself bodily over the crab. By this meansthe outstretched membranes at the base of the tentacles smothered themovements of the prey and prevented escape, while at the same time themouth and biting beaks were brought into position where they could finda vital part.
"Do you want zat one as a specimen?" asked the boatman.
Colin was conscious inwardly that he would have preferred to havenothing at all to do with the repulsive object, but as he had come outin pursuit of an octopus, he would not, for the world, have shown thewhite feather before the boatman.
"Yes, unless we find a bigger," he said, with an overdone assumption ofease.
"I t'ink, sair," Vincente responded, "zat we'd better be satisfied wit'zis one. Shall I take it or will you?"
There was just a hint of irony in the boatman's tone, and rememberingthe timidity he had shown when clutched by the squid, Colin felt thatthis was the chance to redeem himself.
"I don't mind taking it," he said. "You say these things are quiteharmless."
"Quite, sair, I t'ink," the boatman replied.
"All right," was the boy's rejoinder, and he walked forward boldlytoward the octopus. The green eyes regarded him steadily, and just asthe boy stooped to grasp the slimy body, it seemed to gather itself in aheap and started for the sea.
This was an unexpected move, but Colin, having stated that he wantedthat octopus, did not propose to be cheated out of it. He was surprisedthat the cuttlefish could move so fast, and his repugnance gave way toexcitement as he started running after the writhing eight-armedcreature. He was just about to grab it when he tripped on a rock,covered with slippery seaweed, and fell headlong, the fall throwing himimmediately upon the octopus. For a moment the boy was staggered, andhe never knew whether he had grabbed the cephalopod or whether it hadgrasped him, all he knew was that he was lying on the ground with six ofthe eight arms of the octopus around him.
The boy was just in time to throw up his hands to protect his eyes, as atorrent of the inky fluid deluged him from head to foot. He struggled toget up, but the two tentacles of the cuttlefish held fast to adjacentrocks, and Colin might have found difficulty in freeing himself, owingto the awkward attitude in which he had been caught, but for Vincente,who wrenched the tentacles away from their hold.
"Are you all right, sair?" the boatman asked.
"All right," said Colin stoutly, as he got up.
Seldom had he been such a sight! He was black from head to foot with thesepia fluid, his clothes were torn where he had fallen on the rocks, andhe was smothered in the nauseous embrace of the uncanny and diabolicaleight-armed creature clinging to his shoulder. Once, on the way to theboat, the cuttlefish seemed ready to drop off, but, at Vincente'swarning, Colin made believe to force apart the other tentacles, and theoctopus renewed its hold. As soon as they reached the boat and the boystood still a moment, the cuttlefish let go, and fell to the bottom ofthe boat.
Colin looked down at himself and laughed, then jumped overboard in allhis clothes, threshing around in the water to remove as much of thesepia as he could, clambering in when he had washed off the worst of it.
Vincente looked at him.
"I t'ink, sair," he said, smiling, "you ought to be photograph' wit' zecatch!"
Boy With the U. S. Fisheries Page 6