Whether there be any truth in the saying "that opportunity makes the thief," it is decidedly the case that it makes the sportswoman, for although I now find myself in such goodly company, low be it spoken that until I went to Florida I had never fished in my life. Such being the case, it will easily be understood that when I found myself one blazing day in a very small boat, with a sturdy rod in my hand, listening to a very black guide retailing many wonderful stories of what tarpon did when they were hooked, my feelings were chiefly those of trepidation. However I was destined to have a large and varied experience with sharks, jew fish, bass and many other monsters of the deep, before the eventful day arrived on which I killed my first tarpon, and here let me advise anyone who may be meditating an expedition to Florida for tarpon fishing, to beware of going to Punta Gorda.
This most charming and picturesque place was once a very favourite haunt of the tarpon, but owing to works which have been recently started, which entail a constant passing of steamers up and down the river, the fish have quite deserted it. We fished there for six whole weeks, starting often at 5 a.m. and generally staying out till 7.30 or so, and we never saw one fish the whole time. We proved a fruitful source of revenue to the guides and boatmen who had ever some fresh reason for our non-success, and we had on the whole a charming time, for the hotel is comfort itself and is a perfect paradise of flowers. We had lovely expeditions up the river, and any amount of bass, sea trout and other fishing, but neither we nor anyone else ever saw a tarpon. We got tired of this at last and decided to move further down, to a place called Fort Myers on the Caloosahatchie River. This we found to be an extremely pretty little town, with low white-painted houses, nestling in roses and magnolias, surrounded by gardens full of brilliant-coloured flowers and luxuriant orange plantations, with however most primitive arrangements in the shape of an hotel. We were fortunate in securing the two best guides on the river and a good sailing boat, and at last our luck changed.
We always followed the same routine. Breakfast about 6 a.m., sometimes earlier, then we sailed down the river towing our tarpon-boats (for each person has his own guide and boat), till we found some place where the fish was feeding, when we anchored the sailing-boat and went off each on our own account. I wish I could convey the charm of those early morning sails, the crisp, exhilarating feeling in the air, before the heat of the day began, the brilliant sunshine, the pale blue vault above, reflected in the shining depths beneath, where we and our snow-white boat seemed to be floating in some delicious ether in a crystalline bowl. Or again it might be a cloudy grey morning, when the heavens above and the wide expanse of river below, were all one lovely pearly opalescent haze of pinks and greys and soft indefinite blues, suffused with a warm light, telling of the golden glory of the sun which would presently melt the clouds away; and all the teeming population of the river seemed to be rejoicing with us in having awakened to another long, happy, busy day. The solemn pelicans decorating every post and sand-bank, too intent on their breakfasts to notice us, excitable flocks of little black duck which would rise scolding and chattering like a crowd of school-children to settle, still volubly objecting to us, a few hundred yards or so further on, gaunt fishing-eagles and turkey buzzards, leviathan-like porpoises gambolling round our boat, and everywhere the flash of the silver mullet as they leapt and played; both the bird and animal life being an incessant source of amusement and interest to watch.
When we arrived in Florida on the 6th of March, we found the weather just like that of a perfect English summer, cool mornings and evenings, in which a thick cloak was always acceptable, for the air on the water was invariably fresh, then blazing hot in the middle of the day. One's poor face suffers terribly from the glare off the water, and till you get hardened it is quite painful from the intense burning, though at last you settle down to a uniform tomato-red or brick-dust tint. So far as clothes are concerned, you require the very loosest form possible. Thin silk shirts, and light serge or holland skirts for fishing, and thin, very high boots, for when you land on sand banks or on one of the fascinating little islands which dot the river, your ankles will be devoured by what is euphoniously named "the red bug," and then you will be driven nearly mad with the irritation. Indeed one English woman I met in Florida had been quite lamed and laid up for weeks from these bites, after having walked in low shoes along the beach. Then you must have a large and shady hat, or do as most of the American women do, and wear sun-bonnets. I adopted the latter plan, as the sun-bonnet shelters the back and sides of the neck, which otherwise suffer from the heat. Then for days when you are not fishing, you will want the thinnest of white frocks, and for the evening or sitting on the piazza, where it is always deliciously cool and shady, being surrounded by orange trees and a tangle of roses, I found some muslin tea-gowns which I happened to have with me, the greatest comfort.
Last, but most important of all, you must be well provided with the thickest leather driving gloves, at least one size too large, indeed men's gloves will be found the best, as otherwise your hands may get cut to ribbons by the line swishing out. I have had all the fingers of one hand cut to the bone through this, and it is of course most painful. A leather tarpon belt such as is sold at the Army and Navy Stores, is also quite necessary. The rod I killed most of my fish on was a bamboo, about 7 feet long. In choosing a rod, remember it must not have too much spring, and you will require from 150 to 200 yards of linen line. But all requisites of this sort are to be found at the Army and Navy Stores. The great difficulty is to find a really satisfactory hook. We tried all kinds and varieties, but I think the chief thing is to be sure that they are made of the best steel, with good large eyes. The hooks are attached to the line by a raw hide snooding, which is far better than wire or any other kind, though it is true that sharks, which very frequently take the bait, can bite through that much easier than piano wire.
The bait used, is the soft part of the silver mullet, and the providing of this bait was one of the greatest troubles we had. Each person requires at least one dozen mullet a day, and the natives are very lazy about catching them. We used to be down on the pier sometimes, with the tide just right for starting, only to be told that the bait had not come, and then we had to wait, fuming and fussing, for nearly an hour perhaps, with all our chances of getting off on the flood tide disappearing. At last a coloured man would come sauntering along with the long-looked-for bait, and would meet all our remonstrances with the most hopeless and exasperating good humour, and probably the same thing would be repeated the next day. At Fort Myers however, we had less trouble about it, our guides being white men, who very often caught the mullet themselves. Such nice, cheery fellows these guides were, most amusing and interesting companions, and real sportsmen.
After we had been at Fort Myers a few days, I caught my first tarpon. He was a fine fellow, 6 ft. 7 in. long, and weighing 147 lbs. He gave me a very hard fight indeed, lasting for an hour and twenty-five minutes. I never felt so sorry for anything in my life as I did for that tarpon as I played him. He made such a plucky struggle for life, and was worthy of a better antagonist, for he could not know that it was no skill on my part that finally conquered him, but a sheer determination to get the better of him. I was thankful indeed when at last I succeeded in working him near enough for Santi to gaff, for my arms and thumbs were absolutely numb with the enormous weight and strain. One very quickly learns the knack of playing the fish and tiring them out, and I rarely took longer than twelve or fifteen minutes, and sometimes less, in killing my fish after a little practice.
The tarpon were late in coming up the river the year we were there, owing to the water being very cold after the dreadful "freeze" which devastated so many flourishing orange plantations, so that the fishing was not really good till about the middle of April. From then till we left, however, about the 15th of May, we had splendid sport, killing forty-eight tarpon between us, of which seventeen fell to my share. My husband's biggest kill in one day was five, mine was three, and I found that quite enough, for though it does not take long in point of time, to kill your tarpon when once he is hooked, the strain on all your muscles is enormous. It calls all your faculties into play, as may be imagined, to kill a 150 lbs. fish on a small rod, and a line no thicker, if as thick, as a salmon line. The one thing to avoid is letting your reel over-run. If that happens, and it easily does, for the reels are on ball bearings and run at a touch, your fish is practically lost, you can rarely clear the line again.