Evening star., 1954-11-14

WcSt bUWhIQ 0dIuOd, IldU already
paid his morning visit some time
before. This was part of my
morning routine, just as the
hunt for food was. Meekie
watched me. interested because
his breakfast was at stake. Troll
Ing like that, one generally lets
the line out good, way. ! let
out 200 feet.
I watched the line run. It
was one of several given me by
the captain of the Peruvian
tuna clipper, Olmeda,. along
with an assortment of double
hooks, leaders and white feath-
ers to make lures, back in CAL
lao. Since I left that port, so
days had passed. With my
raft, the Seven Little Sisters,
under me, I had since then
weathered a sickness, many
spells Of harsh weather, and
covered some $500 miles of the
crossing with which, alone,
was testing myself against the
Pacific.
The fishing line, too, would
soon be tested.
Shark Takes Hook.
A little worn, 1t was not up
to the standards Of commercial
Tuna fishing. It could no longer
be counted on to stand the
shock Of a tuna weighing up to
200 pounds hitting the hook.
But its cotton strands, measur-
ing an eighth of an inch thick,
had strength yet. 1t was Ger
tainly a good addition to my
supplies. I had brought my
other lines from the States, all
of kinds used by commercial
fishermen and of the sizes used
for cod off Maine and for red
snapper and grouper In the
Gulf Of Mexico and off the coast
Of Florida.
I busted myself with the morn
ing chores-checking the rigging
and preparing my breakfast of
canihua, the cereal of the high
Andes. Glancing back, saw my
line was tight. I had bite, and
Jumping back. I began to pull in.
1t felt like a big fish. This
pleased me, because it would
likely be dolphin. But then
1t began diving and I knew my
fortune was not running clear.
The dive meant it was a shark.
brought it in close to the raft
and confirmed my guess. The
shark was five to five and a half
feet long. It looked husky.
1 generally avoided sharks,
which often clustered around
the Seven Little Sisters. Pulling
them in severely taxed nv
strength. always limited by my
unhagging daily work routine.
But I wanted the hook back. I
began pulling the thick torpedo
body up the logs. The hook, I
saw, was lodged in a corner of
the big mouth.
Drives Gaff Into Jaw.
I drove my gaff into the other
side Of the jaw. This. as I
planned it, would hold the shark
steady while / recovered nv
nook. The shark was rather
quiet, threshing only occasional
ly. I bent over, my hand reach.
ing.
Something that had happened
repeatedly in the summer of 1852
passed through my mind. MY
wife and I were fishing on my
sloop along the Florida Keys, off
the Bahamas and Cuba.
Cut the line, Bill" she used
to say when ! hooked a shark.
But now I had become intent
on the hook. It was almost out
when the shark opened up with
all It's power.
The gaff was torn from my
hand. On the Shiny logs I lost
my balance and went head first
over the crosslog.
My left hand was extended
downward as I fell, while nv
right came upward, pulling the
hook clear. Whether it was the
shark or / which pulled it out, I
cannot truthfully say.
My left hand, however, went
between the sharks jaws and
dragged along it's teeth. Then I
was in the sea.
Raft Moves Away.
I must have been stunned-I
have difficulty gathering to-
gether all details of that fright
ening instant. But / do know
this: When I fully realized what
had happened, the fishline's six
foot wire leader was still in my
hand. My eyes went to the raft.
1t had moved to the lines full
length. 1t was moving at about
three and a half miles an hour,
200 feet away from me.
The Seven Little Sisters was
bowling along under full sail, over
the blue sea and under the blue
sky dotted with white trade-wind
clouds. Strangely. the sight, in
that moment, struck me as beau
tiful. But the beauty passed in a
flash. was trailing on the end
of a fishing line. The raft looked
miles away, and even the idea Of
making UP that distance seemed
preposterous.
The wind was rather stiff.
The water was cool. I am a fair
swimmer, but I could never have
hoped to make up such q dis
tance, while the raft moved
ahead under good wind.
I have explained how, alone on
my raft. with the strange sensa-
tion Of being separated from time
and normal living. / spoke aloud
to things-the sky, the sea. the
stars. I spoke like this now:
Come On, Hands," said. And
to the line: Don't You Break"
Hands Recome Numhed.