Tales of the Angler's Eldorado: New Zeland by Zane Grey

Author:Zane Grey [Grey, Zane]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Derrydale Press
Published: 2000-10-24T04:00:00+00:00

ILLUSTRATING THE THREE TYPES OF BILL. LEFT—BROADBILL SWORDFISH. CENTER—BLACK MARLIN. RIGHT—STRIPED MARLIN

PLATE LXXII

TACKLE AND BAIT

PLATE LXXIII

Captain Mitchell took to drifting with live bait, and I followed suit. The change was restful, as the boat rode the long slow swells with ease and grace, and the motion grew exhilarating. After a time we saw a dark fin cutting the water close to the Captain’s boat. His men saw it, for they waved with gestures of deprecation, meaning the fin belonged to a hammer-head. But really it belonged to a mako, which most assuredly showed its preying nature by charging my bait. I saw the fish in the top of a clear green swell, its sharp vicious nose, prominent eyes, strange bullet shape, green and gold, and the motion of a tiger on the spring.

This mako was the largest I had felt. He astonished me. His burst out of a swell, straight across the deep hollow into another swell, was something electrifying, and most beautiful to see. We were far behind time in trying to photograph him. But we made ready for a second jump. As he shot off with my line I knew neither Frank nor Peter would cover him with camera if again he leaped. Suddenly out he shot, not high, but low, straight across the sea in a long greyhound leap. My line went slack. Upon reeling it in I found my leader bitten off as cleanly as if it had been done by nippers.

“That was a big one. Four hundred!” Peter ejaculated. “Dod gast it! That fellow you wrote about, who said you were the most unlucky fisherman in the world, had it right-o!”

One other boat besides ours was fishing there; and it contained two boatmen who had no angler for the day and were fishing for themselves. Evidently they were enjoying it. When quite some distance away from us they hooked a fish, and proceeded to run out to sea. Presently they came back; and we did not need to be told they had lost it. I had seen this identical thing happen many times. As they passed us one of them yelled lustily, spreading wide his hands:

“Big black Marlin! He rolled up once; wide as a door!”

It was simply impossible for me to evade the shock that was equivalent to a hurt. The thought of another grand swordfish breaking away from that flimsy tackle, with a triple gang hook in its stomach, made me positively sick. How many times had that identical thing happened in the half dozen years of New Zealand swordfishing? Hundreds, no doubt! Not one of those large Marlin had ever been captured on the kind of tackle used, and not one ever would be. While succumbing to despair I could only hope that time would educate these anglers to the futility of such method.

That incident took the heart out of the afternoon, and I was glad when the sea grew so rough we had to quit. At camp Captain Mitchell expressed himself

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