ging
rhinoceros Dugmore photographed. And then I yelled for the cameras to be
snapped. They all clicked--and then, when the swordfish shot close
behind us, presenting the most magnificent picture, no one was ready!

As he passed I thought I saw the line round his body. Then he sounded
and began to plug. He towed us six miles out to sea. I could not stop
him. I had begun to weaken. My hands were sights. My back hurt. But I
stayed with him. He felt like a log and I could not recover line.
Captain Dan said it was because I was almost all in, but I did not think
that. Presently this swordfish turned inshore and towed us back the six
miles. By this time it was late and I _was_ all in. But the swordfish
did not seem nearer the boat. I got mad and found some reserve strength.
I simply had to bring him to gaff. I pulled and pumped and wound until I
was blind and could scarcely feel. My old blisters opened and bled. My
left arm was dead. I seemed to have no more strength than a kitten. I
could not lead the fish nor turn him. I had to drag and drag, inch by
inch. It was agonizing. But finally I was encouraged by sight of him, a
long, fine, game fellow. A hundred times I got the end of the double
line near the leader in sight, only to lose it.

Seven o'clock passed. I had fought this swordfish nearly three hours. I
could not last much longer. I rested a little, holding hard, and then
began a last and desperate effort to bring him to gaff. I was absolutely
dripping with sweat, and red flashes passed before my eyes, and queer
dots. The last supreme pull--all I had left--brought the end of the
leader to Captain Dan's outstretched hand.

The swordfish came in broadside. In the clear water we saw him plainly,
beautifully striped tiger that he was! And we all saw that he had not
been hooked. He had been lassoed. In some way the leader had looped
around him with the hook catching under the wire. No wonder it had
nearly killed me to bring him to the boat, and surely I never would have
succeeded had it not been for the record Captain Dan coveted. That was
the strangest feature in all my wonderful Clemente experience--to see
that superb swordfish looped in a noose of my long leader. He was
without a scratch. It may serve to give some faint idea of the
bewildering possibilities in the pursuit of this royal purple game of
the Pacific.

IV

TWO FIGHTS WITH SWORDFISH

My first day at Avalon, 1916, was one likely to be memorable a