The Pacific Monthly/Volume 1/Sport in the Pacific
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 first as dead as the proverbial flounder.
This tuna was an erratic fellow. He soon gave up sulking and came to the surface to wheel about the boat in great circles; now submitting to the reeling-in process; now rushing away, hammering at the line with sturdy blows, to rise and repeat the rushing-in trick time and again. The endurance point would soon have been reached and another angler reduced hors de combat by the tuna when a decided lapse was perceptible. The struggles were not so furious, and the big fish could be reeled in. On he came, running around the boat. "Gently!" whispered the boatman, fingering his gaff nervously. "Now, sir!" A gentle swing and the big gaff hook slipped beneath the white belly of the fish and a few seconds later he slides into the boat, nearly six feet of gleaming blue and silver; eyes big and staring; head powerful, beating the bottom with blows that fairly threaten the boat.
Imagine a mackerel weighing 150 pounds, colored as described, with rows of small yellow fins or finarettes reaching back from the dorsal and neutral fins and some idea of the tuna may be had—the fish that towed our boat at least five miles and performed prodigies of valor. The tunas were leaping all about us, but one such fish was enough pleasure and excitement and we turned toward Avalon. It was the perfection of sea fishing; being twenty miles out to sea in water as clear as crystal, yet the tuna grounds were in shore along the rocky cliffs of the picturesque island.
The tuna is the game fish par excellence of these waters; a famous leaper and the most powerful fish of its size known. On the records of the Tuna Club are accounts of boats being towed from seven to twenty miles, and nearly every fish caught made a struggle worthy of record. The largest tuna taken with rod and reel weighed 183 pounds and fought its captor, the president of the club, four hours.
The club, with its three hundred members, advocates certain methods which 
gold medal which is fished for every year and held by the angler taking the largest tuna. The line allowed is a 24-strand, which gives the fish every chance, suggestive of the idea which holds among the members of the Tuna Club which is to protect game fishes and give them every advantage.
Tuna fishing is a popular one at Santa Catalina, which is 3! hours from Los Angeles, and in May, June and July the island is the Mecca of sportsmen from almost every state in the Union. The waters of California teem with game fish. In the south the yellow tail is taken with rod and reel from San Diego to Santa Catalina and beyond to the islands off Santa Barbara. The sea bass and black sea bass are others. The latter is taken at Santa Catalina on rod and reel up to 327 pounds, the record being held by F. V. Rider, secretary of the Tuna Club, who took a fish of this size on 24-strand line in 50 minutes.
The ordinary sea bass is taken all along shore to San Francisco, specimens weighing 75 and 100 pounds having been brought to gaff. San Luis Obispo is a famous place for these gamey fish, while at the mouth of the Santa Inez steelheads tipping the scales at 20 pounds delight the wielder of rod and reel. The variety of game fishes which can be taken along the Pacific shores is remarkable. The salmon comes into Monterey in July and affords great sport to San Franciscoans who go to Santa Cruz and various places along shore and catch the gamey fish in great numbers. This sport has made the harbors and bays of the country along the coast to the north famous in the annals of sport.
Vashti to Ahasucrus.
"And when the wrath of the king was appeased, he thought of Vashti.—(Esther 1:2.)
We had a bitter, bitter feud,
My angry lord and I;
And men said, "Oft is Fate thus rude,
So passes Love to die."
But oh I laughed in my glad heart,
For well, well could I see,
That never earthly quarrel could part
For long my king and me.
The dark-haired Esther on his arm
At night sleeps by his side;
All wonder that I wish no harm
To her, who is his bride.
Beloved! 'tis only I who know
The thought that breaks thy rest,
Thy soul yearns for the long ago,
When I lay on thy breast!
Some day they'll say, "Thy lord is dead."
Then wonder much to see
My eyes yet sparkle, lips still red,
Not pale as grief should be.
My own, not death, wedlock or pain
Can stop Love's mighty sway;
And we shall kiss and love again,
When these have passed away.
Adonen.