The Mineral argus., 1884-09-04
T r I

A correspondent of the New York
Times writing from the southern shore
of Long Island Sound, y
1t was with the assurance that there
were no sharks in Great South bav that
L came to Fire Island. It may be said
at once that l came expressly TO fish
for sharks.
The uprising sun was dimly struo-
Cling through the haze this mornino
when my sailor lad, an honest vonn9
fellow from Bay Shore, hoisted sail on
a trim little sloop and hauled ont into
the channel. A hayward breeze broLo
upon the calm surface of the bav ana
pushed against our little sails with oenN
tie force. The water gurgled softly at
the bow and dubbed away, a shining
streak of silver, in our wake. Early as
we had started, we were later than a
handsome little sloop from the Wa Wa
Yander Club House, which was stand
ing up the bay some distance ahead.
"That's Cap'n John Thurber, (" said the
sailor lad, bracing his back against the
tiller and making a spyglass of his hands.
"He's after blue fish with one of those
city fellers what belongs to the club.
He knows where the fish is, you can bet"
"You kin throw out now" said the
boy at length. "Cap'n John is a-gettin
out his lines"
Not at all unwilling to follow the ex-
ample of so excellent n fisherman as
Captain John, l baited a strong hook
with bunker bait and let the line run out.
Some persons troll for bluefish with a
line as thick as a Goldfish line, but with
the sportsmanlike rod and reel the fish
has a chance for himself and the anglers
skill is taxed to the utmost. When tile
fisherman is after sharks the number of
bluefish caught is a matter of Indifference
hence the basketful of voracious two
pound sinners that were hauled aboard
the sloop in the next half hour needn not be
menti 0ned here. At the end of the half
hour we had drifted abreast the wooden
pier leading down the bay from the
hotel. Then l felt a mighty tug at the
thin line, and the ext moment the
weight was as suddenly removed. I
reeled in the line as rapidly as the
brass multiplier would work. The
bate was gone and the hook was broken
off at the shank. Without a word the
boy seized the big iron shark hook,
with its short length of chain, and
thrust a seven-inch bunker upon the
sharp barb.
Its a shark" said the boy, as the
heavy line was unreeled. But he
don't break this hook"
Then the sloop tackled back and forth
across The channel, working slowly
along with the tide. For fully ten
minutes the bait trailed along unharm-
ed.
"HiI' suddenly yelled the boy, he's
got it,"
The line Strengthened out along the
surface of the water with a tremendous
jerk, keeling the sloop to the leeward
as though a heavy puff of wind had
struck her main top-sail. For a single
instant the light under side of a seven
foot shark flashed in the sun, and then
the line went whizzing down toward the
bottom of the bay. The line was paid
out freely, and soon the shark stopped.
Haul away y I shouted, bracing my
feet against the rail. The boy fell to
with a will, and the shark moved slow
" and unsteadily toward the sloop,
Then a shower of spray from the sharks
rapidly moving tail glittered in the sun,
and before we could take a turn around
a cleat with the slack line the big fish
had rushed off ten fathoms astern.
Gently we coaxed him back, hoping to
tire him into submission. In sullen
stiffness he came within two feet of the
sloop, and the boy reached for our
hark-killer-an old bayonet fastened
firmly to the end of a hoe handle.
Here, jab him quick" said the boy,
thrusting the weapon across the stern
sheets. Raising the spear like a har-
pooh, I. drove it into the sharks gills
half a dozen times in three seconds.
The blood spurted out in great streams,
staining the side of the sloop and turning
the water a dark crimson. The shark
turned like a fash.
"Now let him 60" cried the boy, who
in moment of excitement seemed gifted
with an inspiration of ~eloquence. A
hundred feet of line followed the shark
in a mad rush out into the bay. Then
slowly, as before, we hauled it in, with
the shark hanging doggedly to a hook
that he could not crush. Again we
brought him alongside, and once more
did the glittering harpoon draw gushing
streams Of blood.
''Shoot him! ~ screamed the boy in
genuine alarm, as the shark began anew
demonstration o. brightness. 1t was too late
to shoot, for before the revolver could
be brougt to bear the gamey fish was
two boat lengths to windward. Weary
with the quick work, we hauled him
in again, but with less enthusiasm than
at first. The shark too, seemed tired.