The Pacific Monthly.
Sport in the Pacific.
By C. J. HOLDER, President of the Pasadena (Calif.) Academy of Sciences.
LOOK out, sir!"
Zip-zee-zee-ee! and three hundred feet of line went humming, screaming from the big reel. The warning from the boatman and the music of the reel came at one and the same time, telling of the great game fish of Santa Catalina that was now towing the boat astern and ever and anon tearing off feet and yards of line. There was no denying the excitement. I had heard of the tuna fever, a cousin to buck fever, that is so infectious in California waters, and in those few seconds of the strike and first rush of the tuna I was forced to confess that the half had not been told. I was driving a veritable wild horse of the sea and with a single rein.
We had been moving slowly up Avalon bay on a sea of glass. The sun was yet behind the hills and the Eastern sky was flushed with crimson. Back of us rose the purple hills of Avalon, rapidly changing color and forming a rare picture, as they encompassed the great amphitheater of Grand Canon. From out to sea came the cry of a laughing gull, and a long line of shags flying low were passing south to their favorite feeding grounds, where the green swells came rolling in upon the great sphinx that with stony glare looked into the West. The morning was cool, the air tempered to a semi-tropical condition that suggested palms and banana trees. The thoughts of the fisherman who sat holding the rod were far away when the water suddenly boiled twenty yards astern as though there had been a mimic submarine explosion, then something that gleamed brightly came rushing along at the surface and the song of the reel rose on the air — Zee-zee!
It was a point of record that but twenty-four members of the Tuna Club had succeeded in landing a tuna of over 100 pounds. I was desirous of emulating them; but I could well believe the stories I had heard of the strength and hypnotizing power of the fish. It rushed away with 600 or 700 feet of line before I could make any impression; then as I succeeded in stopping it I could feel a slacking of the line, could see a swirl of gleaming silver, then the line became entirely slack. He was gone. No?
"Reel, reel, sir, for your life!" cried the boatman.
I stood up and plied the handle of the big multiplier with all the vigor I possessed, and for a moment saw a magnificent blue-backed fish coming toward me like an arrow from a bow. The tuna was running in on the line, and as he caught a glimpse of the boat he turned and dashed away again, taking all the line gained and more, and plunged deep into the ocean. He was a mighty sulker, and I later saw a tuna continue this until reeled in, coming to the surface tail
