Tales Of the Angler's El Dorado Nz Read online

  One boatman passing us called to Williams that he had lost a Marlin. So this made eight or nine I had recorded in three days, out of eleven hooked.

  By the time we had completed our first drift I had developed conclusions. I knew that Marlin or some other large fish were working along with the schools of kahawai, every now and then making a charge from underneath, which caused the kahawai to leap crashing on the surface. So I instructed my boatmen to keep near one of these schools, and I let my bait drift as close as possible. This was something I had not observed a single one of the other boats doing, yet it seemed the thing to do. Soon I had a strong pull on my line. My bait was ten times too large, and the hook was also large, at least for Marlin. So when I struck, it did not surprise me that I missed. I slacked the bait and sure enough the Marlin took it again.

  This time I let him have it so long that he came up on the surface and ejected it. But he got tangled up in my line, whereupon began a pretty exhibition. I was afraid to pull hard for fear of cutting my line. The fish leaped and threshed and came at the boat. In the vernacular of the boatmen, he breached twenty-five times. By handling him gently I saved both fish and line. When we got him fast we discovered my hook and bait were over a hundred feet from the place on my line where the Marlin had tangled.

  We ran back and caught another kahawai. While beginning another drift one of the other anglers hooked a fish and started out to sea. It sort of aggravated me to watch these boats run away with a fish.

  Presently I saw another patch of kahawai acting suspiciously, so I stalked it, and soon had another strike. This fish was easy to hook; and as there were eight boats near by I exerted myself in my desire to have them see a rod bent. The result was that I brought this Marlin up in eleven minutes. He did not jump, which was due to his being badly hooked. Running back to the rock, I tried again, found another school of kahawai on the surface, and had another heavy strike. But this fish let go quickly. He must have felt the hook. Thereupon I called it a day and left for camp. Captain Mitchell's fish weighed one hundred and ninety-two pounds, and mine two hundred and fifty-two and two hundred and eighty-four, respectively. The larger fish was a fine specimen that I had judged to be around three hundred pounds in weight.

  Though the late afternoon was stormy, all the boatmen went to Russell to see their families, and no doubt to talk fish, especially the broadbill battle. I could not very well quote some of their exaggerations, though the temptation is strong. But all of them had come out frankly in expressing their amazement and admiration and to endorse heartily our tackle and method.

  Some of the anglers we had watched, and boatmen too, apparently did not know how to proceed when a fish took hold of their bait. I saw one instance that is worth recording, since it was both funny and tragic. Four men were in a boat near us. Manifestly a bite had been felt by one of them, for they all jumped up. The man with the rod held it up high, but he did nothing else. I saw the long tip bend and then nod. Evidently the line was paying off the reel. Promptly a fine big swordfish broke water several hundred feet astern. Then great excitement prevailed. All the men, except the angler with the rod, ran around in that boat. The engineer started the boat at full speed, slowed down, turned around, went fast again, and finally got the swordfish on the other side of the boat. I did not know what had happened to the angler, but I saw him leap up, trying to hold the long rod. It jerked down, bent to the water and then under the boat. In an instant more it sprang back straight. Then angler stood bewildered, while one of his comrades began to thread the broken line through the guides. All this happened in a half a minute or so. After it had happened they all sat down, probably for a conference. I wanted much to run over there and give them some instructions, but I managed to refrain.

  My largest swordfish, two hundred and eighty-four pounds, had four fish in his gullet, two kahawai, a small blue shark, and a snapper fully seven pounds in weight. This last had a round hole straight through his body. Unquestionably, it had been made by the bill of the swordfish. The snapper had not been struck a side blow in the usual way Marlin kill or stun their prey; he had been rammed straight through. This was proof that the spearfish, or Marlin, can and do ram fish. No doubt they ram their enemies in battle, as the broadbills do.

  An incident of the day that pleased me immensely was to run across a market-fishing boat manned by two sturdy dark-faced fishermen; a sloop, scarred by sea and weather, and with the name Desert Gold on the stern. We ascertained that it had been named after my book Desert Gold, the same as had one of the greatest race-horses ever bred in the Antipodes. I was touched, proud, tremendously pleased. I had met with innumerable instances of kindly recognition from my reading public in the Antipodes, but to discover an old sailboat, under the beetling brow of Cape Brett, named with one of my own book titles, was something singularly affecting to me. Those fishermen never guessed the true state of my feelings.

  Chapter V

  BOUNTY FROM THE SEA

  The boatmen told me this story about a mako fight that seems incredible. Yet they staked their word on it, and offered confirmation from others. A mako took a kahawai, was hooked and fought awhile. He tore free from the hook, and in plain sight took another bait thrown to him. Then the battle went on again for an hour or more, when he broke the line. He came up near the boat. They threw him another kahawai and he took that. This time the tackle held and he was landed, a fish of over three hundred pounds.

  I have heard some fish stories in my day, and this one ranks high. But I believe it. I have known such strange facts myself, really stranger than any homespun fabrications. The most bewilderingly preposterous and stunning fish stories sometimes are true.

  On the afternoon of our fourth day the threatening weather developed into a storm. Next day we found a rough sea and squalls of rain, but we persevered for a while. Captain Mitchell hooked some kind of a heavy beast, as he called it, that soon got away; and later he raised a big kingfish to the teasers. This was the third he had brought up. I had no luck whatever, and about noon, when the wind increased to a gale, I ran in, and the Captain soon followed.

  On and off it rained and blew all the afternoon. We had trouble holding down the tents until they got throughly wet. During the night, at intervals, the storm awoke me. The sound of surf, the wind in the titrees, the patter of rain, all were singularly pleasant. By morning the storm had passed and the larks were proclaiming the fact with joy.

  The promise of a fine day was not fulfilled, however, and outside the islands the sea was lumpy, bumpy, humpy, and reflected leaden clouds. At rare intervals the sun came out, the sea turned blue, and there seemed to be some sense in fishing. These intervals, however, were few and far between. I was in for a hard day. Many, many of them have I had. The way to fish is to keep your bait in the water, and keep on going, or casting, or sitting still on a log, whatever the particular method of the hour, until you get a bite.

  The Alma G., though the best craft in Russell, was an uncomfortable boat. Her motions were sudden. She w as a cross between a V bottom and a round bottom. I had to hold on to my seat, hour after hour, and to my rod also. I trolled until one o'clock without sign of fish or strike. Then I climbed on deck to look for birds or anything. We were miles out. Gradually we worked back toward the cape.

  At last we reached the shelter of Piercy Island. Four boats were drifting on the lee side of the great rock. We caught a live kahawai and began to fish. The sun shone now and then, the wind blew a gale about as often. Two more hours passed, negative for me. No, not altogether that, for the smallest and prettiest gull I ever saw alighted on my boat, quite close to me, and regarded me with bright, friendly eyes. He had fluffy feathers, like spindrift, white as snow with a few specks of black. Presently he walked aft and perched upon the deck. Next, a bird I classified as a sooty shearwater swam up to us. He, too, was small and round, but precisely the hue of soot. The boatmen fed him bits of fish and then Williams reached down, picked him up and set him on the combing. I was amazed and del
ighted. New Zealand birds were indeed tame. This one looked insulted at having his feathers ruffled, but he did not show any fright.

  Upon turning the corner of Piercy Rock I discovered Captain Mitchell frantically engaged with a Marlin swordfish that was running and jumping toward the cliff. I hurried to get my camera. When I came out with it I was just in time to see the swordfish make a long, high leap that ended against the stone wall. He splintered his spear, which I saw fly into bits. He ejected the bait and also the hook. Then hanging there in a niche, he floundered and beat and flapped until he slid back into the surge.

  There did not appear to be any lee side to the island, as the wind whipped round all sides and increased in strength until nothing could keep its place in the boat, nor I safely hold my chair. So we beat back to camp.

  When Captain Mitchell returned he expressed himself forcibly: "Rotten day! I saw four Marlin, and had two strikes. The second one after you left. We saw a big Marlin on the surface, and we ran ahead of him with a bait. He took it and swam off in plain sight, trying to get it in his mouth. I let him go with it. Then when I struck the hook didn't catch. The Marlin took the bait again, and though I let him have it a long time I couldn't hook him. Those kahawai are too big. They're a darned nuisance. There was a splendid fish, hungry as a wolf, and I missed him!"

  "Right-o', as these boatmen say", I replied. "This kahawai bait is too large for anything but sharks. It is the wrong bait for swordfish. And this method of drifting is wrong. We've got to find a suitable bait and a better method. Weather permitting, we can troll, of course."

  The situation indeed presented some perplexities. I was satisfied that the waters along the New Zealand coast were alive with these great game fish, and no doubt fish that were new and equally formidable. We had discovered in calm weather we could find broad-bill and also raise Marlin. These facts were significant and inspiring. But the whole job was a pioneering one and must take time, hard work and infinite patience.

  That night I surely did not see the stars. With sky pitch-black, and strong southwest winds, it appeared the storm was not over. Morning broke calm, however, with rosy sky and placid bay; and we were in high hopes again. Yet by the time we got out to Cape Brett the sky had grown overcast, the sea ruffled and white. Behind the huge castle-like island there was a lee of considerable extent, where we proposed to fish a little despite the storm. Gale and sea grew more violent. The mainland was lost in a haze of rain. Around the yellow cliffs the surges rose grandly and burst with sullen boom. What a cork at the mercy of the sea seemed our boat! I began to try to convince myself that we should run in before the storm increased, and just then I saw a Marlin fin.

  We followed him, trolling a bait, got ahead of him, and had the fun and excitement of seeing him swerve swiftly and flash green as he seized it. The other boat drew near. My Marlin swam on with the big bait plainly visible between his jaws. Captain Mitchell thought the swordfish had passed my bait, and tried to give him his. It took some yelling to show the Captain his error. Finally, some one in his boat saw the swordfish with my bait. At last I grew impatient, and jerked the bait away from that nonchalant beggar; then he rushed it.

  I hooked the Marlin before he had time to swallow the bait, with a result I expected. He leaped. He plunged. He rose half out of the water and plowed over the sea directly at Captain Mitchell's boat. Those on board had some chances with cameras at close range, for my swordfish came out twenty-three times. After that he sounded. Then in rather short order I brought him in.

  When we reached Piercy Rock again there were four other boats about, one of them Mr. Alma Baker's with Sid, the boatman of local fame. The sun was shining and the wind had abated, all happenings in such very short order that I thought after all the day might turn out well.

  As soon as we secured another bait Arlidge sighted a mako. We trolled the bait in front of him. He shot under; and in another moment I felt a strong tug, then a run. When I struck I waited breathlessly to see the mako leap, but he did not. I found him fast and powerful. Nevertheless, I soon had him in for Williams to gaff. Then pretty quickly I learned something about mako! He put up a terrific battle, broke one gaff, soaked us through with water, and gave no end of trouble. The boatmen wanted to harpoon him, but this I would not allow. Such a game fish should be given the same sporting chance afforded to others. Eventually we subdued the mako and hauled him aboard, to find ourselves two miles out to sea.

  That was the beginning of a day too full to be wholly recorded. The wind ceased, then blew hard again; the sun shone, then became obscured by clouds; the sea was both rough and smooth.

  One of the Deep Water Cove anglers hooked a fish quite near us. I watched. Suddenly a blue-and-white fish shot into the air, high, higher, as if propelled by a catapult.

  "Mako! Mako!" the boatmen yelled.

  The mako turned over, cut the water like a knife and went out of sight; then leaped again, this time still more wonderfully. Down he went, slick, like a champion diver. Up again, high--fully thirty feet! I shouted in my excitement. He turned clear over in the air, and slid down into the sea. He did not show again.

  "Well, that mako is some fish!" I ejaculated. And the boatmen were loud in their praise of what they consider their gamest fish.

  During the next hour I saw three boats hooked to fish, all at the same time. Alma Baker's fish took him out to sea.

  I saw another angler break one of the long limber rods. Captain Mitchell broke a line on another fish. We saw half a dozen Marlin tails during the afternoon. I got a bait in front of one fish. He charged it, but refused to bite. Three times he did this. He was pugnacious but not hungry. These Marlin had fed and were on their way out to sea, which is their habit in all waters.

  It took the angler three hours to land his mako. During that time several other anglers lost fish. Captain Mitchell had a Marlin get fast in a loop of his leader and pull free at the boat.

  About four o'clock I had a tremendous strike. When I hooked the fish Williams had a strike on my other rod, which he was holding. We though there were two fish. But after half an hour of hard work we found I had hooked the Marlin, and Williams had got it tangled in his leader.

  Not counting three I landed, I saw ten fish hooked, and of these three brought in. My Marlin weighed two hundred and fifty-four and two hundred and eighty-five pounds respectively, and the mako two hundred and fifty-eight.

  It did not take more than one quick glance at my mako, when I saw him out of the water, to pronounce him a remarkable, a terrible and even a beautiful fish.

  No doubt ichthyologists would relegate him to the shark family, and I was compelled to do that also, but I never saw a shark before with any of this one's marked features. He actually had something of the look of a broadbill swordfish without the sword. Dark on the back, white underneath, round and massive of body clear down to the tail, with the flattened side protuberances very marked, thick to the juncture with the flukes, he indeed gave a first impression of being some relation to old Xiphias gladius.

  It was in the head and tail that he differed so essentially from a broadbill, or any other kind of fish. The head resembled a bullet, coming to a sharp point, long and slim. The eyes were large, protruding and most singularly harmonious, with the huge jaw set far back and armed with the most formidable array of teeth nature could devise. They were long, crooked, white, sharp as needles, and many of them set irregularly. In life these teeth had the physical property of moving to and fro, like the teeth of a reaper. The boatmen claimed that when the mako lost a tooth he developed a new one very quickly, and that he had rows of them in reserve in the jaws.

  The tail was a beautiful thing, spade-like, only curved, graceful, symmetrical. The upper lobe was larger, with a tiny notch on the upper outside; the lower lobe almost oval in shape, as were the dorsal fins. The pectoral fins were long, wide, massive.

  Here was a sea creature, an engine of destruction, developed to the nth degree. I had never seen its like. Even an orca could not do
any more ravaging among sea fish. Every line of this mako showed speed and power to a remarkable degree. He had five long, deep gill slits on each side of his neck. I was amazed and fascinated by this new fish. Mr. Morton, a New Zealander, who accompanied us as a motion-picture camera man, explained how the Maoris used to capture the mako, the teeth of which they prized most highly. The natives took spears, a rope, and a very long pole, and went in a canoe to places known to them to be infested with mako. A sting ray or skate was fastened on the end of the long pole and then was thrust down into water, in and out, until it had excited a mako. When they had teased the mako up to the canoe, which was easy, for this fish does not fear man, they manipulated the skate so that the mako in rolling over and turning for it would give the Maoris a chance to throw a noose over its tail. With this fast to the fish they had a swift and precarious ride. When they wanted to turn the canoe they got in the center. The weight all at one point in the center caused these Indian canoes to swerve. They would seldom Upset. By such dexterous means the Maoris tired out the mako and dispatched it with spears. I could not help but contrast their courage and enterprise with the Indians along the Mexican coast, who were afraid to venture out on the sea.

  The fourth day of the blow was the worst of all. Still we went fishing. As before, there was a lee on the sea side of the islands. It was not so large as the day previous, nor so smooth, but we managed to make some kind of shift at fishing. We surely did drift. There were seven boats altogether. I was the first to raise a Marlin, a fine fish, that ran all over the place, leaping and smashing the water, and making us follow him out into the rough sea. I had all I wanted for three-quarters of an hour. The big swells made fighting the fish a most difficult and laborsome task.

  In the afternoon Captain Mitchell hooked a heavy fish of some kind. I was near enough to ascertain that. His boatmen began to run away from the fish. I hurried out there, and found they were doing as I had seen most of these New Zealand boatmen do. The minute a fish was hooked, they would run the boat after it. The anglers do not get any chance to fight a fish in instances of this kind. I shouted for the Captain's men to throw out the clutch. With the boat stopped Mitchell got down to determined work on the fish, and it soon showed on the surface, a mako. We ran closer in the interest of picture-taking. But I was to find that photographing a mako had its difficulties. It did not seem possible to keep track of the fish. I heard the boatmen yell, and a second later the crashing plop of the mako as he fell back from his leap. But I did not see it. Some time after that he jumped again, too quickly for me to focus upon him. What a clear, swift, powerful leaper!