“Keep your hand on the reel, Chester. He’ll snap the line if we’re not careful,” advised Norton. “Easy now! He’s tired, but there is a lot of fight in him yet.”
“Ginger! I should say so! Look at that!”
Again the big fish leaped.
“Where’s Dave with the gaff?” demanded Captain Vinton. “Dave, you lazy, good-fer-nothin’ sea-cook, come up here. Bring that gaff.”
Another frantic leap of the tarpon, not so high this time, brought a shout from Alec.
“Oh, you Dave! Hurry up!”
But the Indian just then was dead to this world. Not even a groan gave assurance that he was still alive and miserable. Silence hung over the deck of the Arrow, silence broken only by the excited gasps of her fishing crew.
Convinced that Dave would not or could not respond to the call, Vinton lashed the tiller, and reached into a locker from which he brought out the gaff. He prepared to use it as soon as the tarpon came within reach.
But there was more strength than he supposed in the tiring yet gamey sea-fighter. Out spun the line from the humming reel; to and fro darted the silver prize, until more than a dozen yards lay between him and the Arrow’s gunwale.
“Reel in, reel in!” cried Norton. “Don’t give him a chance to jerk away.”