ish on board, and we
had to get out the block and tackle and lift the tail on deck, secure
that, and then pull up the head from the other side. After that I needed
some kind of tackle to hold me up.

We were miles from camp, and I was wet and cold and exhausted, and the
pain in my blistered hands was excruciating. But not soon shall I forget
that ride down the shore with the sea so rippling and moon-blanched, and
the boom of the surf on the rocks, and the peaks of the island standing
bold and dark against the white stars.

This swordfish weighed three hundred and sixteen pounds on faulty scales
at Clemente. He very likely weighed much more. He was the largest
Captain Dan ever saw, up to that time. Al Shade guessed his weight at
three hundred and sixty. The market fishermen, who put in at the little
harbor the next day, judged him way over three hundred, and these men
are accurate. The fish hung head down for a day and night, lost all the
water and blood and feed in him, and another day later, when landed at
Avalon, he had lost considerable. There were fishermen who discredited
Captain Dan and me, who in our enthusiasm claimed a record.

But--that sort of thing is one of the aspects of the sport. I was sorry,
for Captain Dan's sake. The rivalries between boatmen are keen and
important, and they are fostered by unsportsman-like fishermen. And
fishermen live among past associations; they grow to believe their
performances unbeatable and they hate to see a new king crowned. This
may be human, since we are creatures who want always to excel, but it is
irritating to the young fishermen. As for myself, what did I care how
much the swordfish weighed? He was huge, magnificent, beautiful, and
game to the end of that four-hour battle. Who or what could change
that--or the memory of those schools of flying-fish in the sunset
glow--or the giant tuna, smashing the water all about me--or the eagles
fighting over my head--or the beauty of wild and lonely Clemente under
its silver cloud-banks?

* * * * *

I went on catching one or two swordfish every day, and Captain Dan
averred that the day would come when we would swamp the boat. These days
were fruitful of the knowledge of swordfish that I had longed to earn.

They are indeed "queer birds." I learned to recognize the sharp
vibration of my line when a swordfish rapped the bait with his sword. No
doubt he thought he thus killed his prey. Then the st