The Mount Holly news. [volume] (Mount Holly, Burlington Co., N.J.) 1891-1942, 1907-04-16
LANDING A BIC FISH,
The Joy and the Labor of Catch
ing an Amber Jack.
PLUCK OF A FINNY FIGHTER.

in the Duel Between the Angler and
Battling Beauty There Is No Lull In
the Fierce Conflict Till One or the
Other Is Victorious.
The boatman is telling us of certain
catches he has seen when. like an cleo
trio shock, comes the sharp staccato of
the click. There is no mistaking 1t;
no tide rip here And seel Lo6kl The
line stiffens, straightens out like a
wire, trembles second, throwing the
water in crystal drops, and then the
gave is glEen the butt, and the reel
screams, high and low, as the unknown
jerks the line away in long and splen-
did bursts of speed.
There Is always the thought that 1t
may be shark or ray or some not
desired vermin, but you have taken the
amber jack before and its sturdy
cousin of the California island, and
there Is no mistake about It,
Springing to your feet, with the Init
of the rod firmly In the leather socket
around your waist, you see what a
game fish can do, what splendid
strength he brings into play as he
races away, dragging the line from
beneath your thumb and the heavy
brake, seemingly playing with it.
Fifty, 100, 200 feet of line slip away
before the fish is stopped, and then it
appears to strike heavy, determined
blows at the rod, sweeping around in
splendid half circle, the line cutting
the water and the fish rising with a
peculiar motion.
Amber jacks have been hooked here
that no man could stop In the Ian
guage of the boatman, "they simply
walked away with the line," then
when the end came never stopped, and
there is seemingly no limit to the pow
ers of this fellow
The angler has a start the thumb
brake of leather stops the run, and the
big reel begins the pltiless work, and
while the Jack races he is insensibly
coming In all the time. More than once
he realizes this and plunges down and
il the water is deep enough sulks and
bores like salmon and with ten times
Its force But the water is compare
lively shallow, and the game can only
break away and dash off fifty feet, to
be checked again and again. But it
never really surrenders, never really
discovers that 1t is In the tolls. Like its
cousin, the California yellowtail, it
fights until it Is In the boat, and even
I ho Aoh Ia
Itself whirling out of a barrel into the
freedom of the sea.
The angler can now see the jack as
it races around the boat, and the black
boatman fingers his gaff ready to give
1t the quietus. Nearly thirty minutes
have slipped away, and the attempts
Of the oarsman to keep the angler
stern first to the fish and the powerful
PUSHES have carried the boat out from
shore where the fish has plenty of wa
ter. The man at the rod begins to feel
that he has earned his fish. In boxing,
fencing or broadsword play there is a
let up time for rest, but In this duel
with the amber jack it is all one round,
and arms and fingers are stiff and
ache. Pressing the thumb on leather
pad for half an hour, holding a stiff
rod in one position is deadly, and the
amber jack appears to have taken his
second wind. Perhaps there is third
wind for amber jack, as, suddenly.
when coursing along at the surface.
he apparently sees the boat and goes
crazy, plunging down to the mad &C
claim of the reel. tearing off the hardly
won line and carrying despair into the
anglers soul.
But this is the beginning of the end,
and, holding the rod and line firmly.
the angler dips the point to the surface
and lifts, mans the pumps" lifts for
all he is worth, gains three feet on the
sulker. then. dropping the tip, reels
rapidly, and so, ever repeating the
trick-the only remedy when fishes will
sulk-he regains his lost line and has
the splendid fish in sight again. There
is flash Of silver, yellow and green,
display Of surface below the resilient
rod, then the reel works 1t ON the quar-
ter. and as the patch of color surges
kissing along the negro gaffer drops his
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