hed the swordfish as the swells lifted him. I expected the line to
break, but, instead, the hook tore out.

Next day we sighted four swordfish and tried in vain to coax one to
bite.

Next day we sighted ten swordfish, which is a record for one day. They
were indifferent.

The next three. The next one, with like result. The next day no fish
were sighted, and that fact encouraged Captain Dan.

The next day, late in the afternoon, I had a strike and hooked a
swordfish. He leaped twice and threw the hook.

The next day I got eleven jumps out of another before he gracefully
flung the hook at the boat.

The next day, a big swordfish, with a ragged purple fin, took my bait
right astern of the boat and sounded deep. I hooked him. Time and time
again I struck with all my might. The fish did not seem to mind that.
He swam along with the boat. He appeared very heavy. I was elated and
curious.

"What's he going to do?" I kept asking Captain Dan.

"Wait!" he exclaimed.

After six minutes the swordfish came up, probably annoyed by the hook
fast in him. When he showed his flippers, as Captain Dan called them, we
all burst out with wonder and awe. As yet I had no reason to fear a
swordfish.

"He's a whale!" yelled Captain Dan.

Probably this fish measured eight feet between his dorsal fin and the
great curved fluke of his tail, and that would make his total length
over twelve feet.

No doubt the swordfish associated the thing fast in his jaw with the
boat, for he suddenly awoke. He lifted himself, wagging his sword,
showing his great silvery side. Then he began to thresh. I never felt a
quarter of such power at the end of a line. He went swift as a flash.
Then he leaped sheer ahead, like a porpoise, only infinitely more
active. We all yelled. He was of great size, over three hundred, broad,
heavy, long, and the most violent and savage fish I ever had a look at.
Then he rose half--two-thirds out of the water, shaking his massive
head, jaws open, sword sweeping, and seemed to move across the water in
a growing, boiling maelstrom of foam. This was the famous "walking on
his tail" I had heard so much about. It was an incredible feat. He must
have covered fifty yards. Then he plunged down, and turned swiftly in a
curve toward the boat. He looked threatening to me. I could not manage
the slack line. One more leap and he threw the hook. I found the point
of the hook bent. It had never been embedded in his jaw. And also I
foun