Whish-hiss-s-s goes the stout line as the fish at the other end takes a downward plunge. Now he runs upward, and the slack is hastily gathered in. “There, he is off again! My, what a rush! There is evidently some serious work on hand here,” said the skipper, as he went to the young fisherman’s assistance. It took fifteen minutes of steady, patient, and skilful work to tire the powerful fish. During this time general attention was directed to the struggle, and the men almost neglected their own lines in their curiosity to see what sort of a creature Breeze had hooked.
Finally the exhausted fish gave up the fight and allowed itself to be drawn to the surface. Now was seen the great white head of a halibut, that looked to Breeze, who had never before caught a fish of this kind, large enough to be a whale. Two men with gaffs[[D]] in their hands sprang to his assistance, but the fish was so huge that not until two more had also got gaffs into him was he lifted from the water and got on deck. Here he was despatched by a few smart taps on the head from the “halibut killer,” which is a short wooden club kept ready for this especial purpose.
Breeze was wild with delight over his capture, while the whole crew were more or less excited, as well they might be, for no such fish had been taken from George’s by any one else that season. It weighed three hundred and twenty-six pounds, and though larger halibut than this have been caught, they are few and far between. One of the men said that he was worth at least twenty dollars, and all admitted that he would create a sensation when they took him into port.
“Put your mark on him, Breeze,” said the skipper, “so that you will be able to pick him out when we get home. He might get lost, you know, among the really big ones that the rest of us are going to catch.”
The boy laughed, but felt very proud of his first fish, as with his sharp sheath-knife he cut a rude B like this,
, in the thick skin on its head, and inscribed the same mark near its tail.
Old Mateo was as delighted at the success of his protégé as the boy himself, and in honor of the event brought him a cup of hot coffee and an extra nice Joe-flogger spread with butter and sugar.
“Me tell ’em so ven you lit babee, an’ eat ze harda tack. Me tell ’em you catch ze feesh bimeby plentee, plentee! Now zey find out, eh?” he exclaimed, in a tone of self-satisfied pride. It was as much as to say that if they would only bring all the babies to him, he could tell whether they would make successful fishermen or not. The men laughed at him, and made many jokes concerning his wisdom; but he only laughed back good-naturedly, and shook his head at them as he again disappeared in the depths of his own domain.
For the rest of the day the fishing went on so merrily, and halibut and cod were piled up on deck so rapidly, that nobody found time to stop for dinner; but snatched hurried mouthfuls of food as they tended their lines. It was lively and exciting work; but when it was time to knock off, and begin to clear and pack the day’s catch, Breeze, for one, found himself aching in every joint, while his hands were raw and water-soaked from handling the hard, wet lines.