d then, as he slowed up, I,
by the labor of Hercules, pulled and pumped and wound most of it back on
the reel. This kept up for an hour--surely the hardest hour's work of my
life.

But a swordfish is changeable. That is the beauty of his gameness. He
left off sounding and came up to fight on the surface. In the next hour
he pulled us from the Fence to Long Point, a distance of four miles.

Once off the Point, where the tide rip is strong, he began to circle in
great, wide circles. Strangely, he did not put out to sea. And here,
during the next hour, I had the finest of experiences I think that ever
befell a fisherman. I was hooked to a monster fighting swordfish; I was
wet with sweat, and salt water that had dripped from my reel, and I was
aching in every muscle. The sun was setting in banks of gold and silver
fog over the west end, and the sea was opalescent--vast, shimmering,
heaving, beautiful. And at this sunset moment, or hour--for time seemed
nothing--a school of giant tuna began leaping around us, smashing the
water, making the flying-fish rise in clouds, like drifting bees. I saw
a whole flock of flying-fish rise into the air with that sunset glow and
color in the background, and the exquisite beauty of life and movement
was indescribable. Next a bald eagle came soaring down, and, swooping
along the surface, he lowered his talons to pick up a crippled
flying-fish. And when the hoary-headed bird rose, a golden eagle, larger
and more powerful, began to contest with him for the prey.

Then the sky darkened and the moon whitened--and my fight went on. I had
taken the precaution to work for two months at rowing to harden my hands
for just such a fight as this. Yet my hands suffered greatly. A man who
is not in the best of physical trim, with his hands hard, cannot hope to
land a big swordfish.

I was all afternoon at this final test, and all in, too, but at last I
brought him near enough for Captain Dan to grasp the leader.... Then
there was something doing around that boat for a spell! I was positive
a German torpedo had hit us. But the explosion was only the swordfish's
tail and Dan's voice yelling for another gaff. When Captain Dan got the
second gaff in him there was another submarine attack, but the boat did
not sink.

Next came the job of lassoing the monster's tail. Here I shone, for I
had lassoed mountain-lions with Buffalo Jones, and I was efficient and
quick. Captain Dan and I were unable to haul the f