There are two species of tuna found at Santa Catalina, the blue-finned and the yellow-finned. The first-named is by far the bigger. I had to be content with the latter, as the blue-finned kind was not in evidence during my stay on the island. I regretted this greatly, for I was assured on all sides that to kill a genuine blue-finned leaping tuna with rod and line was something to be proud of—a feat to be remembered and talked about for the rest of one’s life.
This I can quite believe, judging by the stories I heard. I was told, for instance, of a new-comer on the island, a perfect novice at the game, who at his first attempt played a gigantic blue-finned tuna for five hours without assistance, and finally killed it. The youthful angler—he was little more than a boy—was taken ashore fainting, a fingernail gone, a thumb dislocated, the palms of both hands skinned, blistered, and bleeding, and his strained arms rendered useless for days. But he was radiantly happy; for he had qualified on his very first day for the Tuna Club—the blue riband of ocean angling.
To become a member of this exclusive association the fisherman must catch and kill with unbroken rod a fish weighing not less than 100 lb. It need not, however, necessarily be a tuna. A barracouta will do, or an albicore, or a black bass. Some of these latter fish run up to 500 lb. (nearly a quarter of a ton) and are as fierce and game as tigers. I was told of one of 327 lb. weight that was played for seven and a half hours. At the end of that period it broke its captor’s wrist by a sudden sidelong jump. A second angler then came to the rescue, and played it for another five and a half hours before killing it.
As regards tuna, the record weight for one of these fish brought to boat by rod and line is, I was informed, 251 lb. But monsters of this size are comparatively rare, and still rarer is it for them to be captured after this fashion. To do so demands of the angler a combination of skill, strength, nerve, judgment, and several other qualities, plus any amount of dogged determination and abnormal staying power. As illustrating my meaning I may mention that a former president of the Tuna Club, Mr. Charles F. Holder, had his boat towed ten miles by quite a moderate-sized fish (183 lb.) which fought gamely for hours on end, never sulking a minute. Another angler was dragged more than fourteen miles under similar circumstances, and had his arm broken into the bargain.
None of these exciting experiences, I need scarcely say, came my way; for, as I have already intimated, the big blue-finned tuna had not then arrived off the island, and I had to be content with trying my luck and skill on the smaller yellow-finned variety. With these, however, I was, so I was assured, quite unusually successful. My partner and I between us killed altogether thirty-three fine fish in eight hours. Of these twenty-six were tuna, two rock bass, and five skipjack.
This, I was told, constituted a record for novices, such as we were, and we had our catch photographed. I have a copy of the picture in my possession, with underneath it the following inscription: “Record catch of yellow-finned tuna by ‘Carlton,’ the English Magician, and Dr. Lartigau of San Francisco, aggregate weight 350 lb., caught on 9-9 tackle in eight hours. Catalina Island, April 10th, 1911. (Signed) P. V. Rogers, Official Photographer to the Tuna Club.”
The day before this record catch I went out alone with a boatman, in order to get my hand in, so to speak. It was well I did so, for I discovered that tuna-fishing, like most other things in this world, wants some learning. I hooked my first fish all right, but after playing him for an hour or so I had to give up. My arms ached as though they were being wrenched from their sockets, and my hands were all blistered. Next day I wore gloves, and my boatman taught me that afternoon how to play a fish with my whole body, throwing it backwards and forwards as in rowing.
The motor-boats that are used for tuna-fishing are, I should explain, fitted with sliding seats, like our racing craft here at home, and with leather holdfasts for the feet, and this makes it much easier to play a really big fish, once one has learnt the knack of it. I had also explained to me how to use the patent reel, with which the rods used in tuna-fishing are fitted, and which only runs out at a certain pressure; not freely, as in the case of an ordinary reel.
I forgot to mention that the bait used for the yellow-finned tuna is a sardine, that for his big blue-finned cousin being invariably a flying-fish. Both these tuna are the same species of fish, be it understood, but bearing about the same relation to one another in point of size as the trout does to a salmon.
In angling for the big tuna a kite is sometimes used. This is flown over the sea, and attached to it is a line with a flying-fish (the bait) dangling at the end of it on or near the surface of the water. The motion of the kite, driven by the wind, causes the bait to bob up and down very much as does the live flying-fish, and the tuna leaps out of the sea after it just as a trout does after a fly. When the big fish swallows the baited hook he of course drags the kite down with him.