I was convinced, however, that this was to be R. C.’s day, and so, much to his amaze and annoyance, I put away my rod. No sooner had I quit fishing than a big black tail showed a few yards out from R. C.’s bait. Then a shining streak shot across under the water, went behind R. C.’s bait, passed it, came again. This time I saw him plainly. He was big and hungry, but shy. He rushed the bait. I saw him take it in his pointed jaws and swerve out of sight, leaving a boil on the surface. R. C. did not give him time to swallow the hook, but struck immediately. The fish ran off two hundred yards and then burst up on the surface. He was a jumper, and as he stayed in sight we all began to yell our admiration. He cleared the water forty-two times, all in a very few minutes. At the end of twenty-eight minutes R. C., with a red face and a bulging jaw, had the swordfish beaten and within reach of Captain Dan.
“He’s a big one—over two hundred and fifty,” asserted that worthy. “Mebbe you won’t strike a bigger one.”
“Cut him loose,” I said, and my brother echoed my wish.
It was a great sight to see that splendid swordfish drift away from the boat—to watch him slowly discover that he was free.
“Ten o’clock! We’ll hang up two records to-day!” boomed Captain Dan, as with big, swift hands he put on another bait for R. C.
R. C. ON THE JOB
