Watching him thus, I reveled in my wonderful luck. Up to this date there had been only three of these rare fish caught in twenty-five years of Avalon fishing. And this one was far larger than those that had been taken.
“Lift him! Closer!” called Captain Dan. “In two minutes I’ll have a gaff in him!”
I made a last effort. Dan reached for the leader.
Then the hook tore out.
My swordfish, without a movement of tail or fin, slowly sank—to vanish in the blue water.
After resting my blistered hands for three days, which time was scarcely long enough to heal them, I could not resist the call of the sea.
We went off Seal Rocks and trolled about five miles out. We met a sand-dabber who said he had seen a big broadbill back a ways. So we turned round. After a while I saw a big, vicious splash half a mile east, and we made for it. Then I soon espied the fish.
We worked around him awhile, but he would not take a barracuda or a flying-fish.
It was hard to keep track of him, on account of rough water. Soon he went down.