endurance. The last fish showed his cunning. They were
all different, and a study of each would be fascinating and instructive.

Next morning was fine. There were several hours when the sea was smooth
and we could have sighted a swordfish a long distance. We went eastward
of the ship course almost over to Newport. At noon a westerly wind
sprang up and the water grew rough. It took some hours to be out of it
to the leeward of the island.

I saw a whale bend his back and sound and lift his flukes high in the
air--one of the wonder sights of the ocean.

It was foggy all morning, and rather too cool. No fish of any kind
showed on the surface. One of those inexplicably blank days that are
inevitable in sea angling.

When we got to the dock we made a discovery. There was a kink in my
leader about one inch above the hook. Nothing but the sword of old
_Xiphius gladius_ could have made that kink! Then I remembered a
strange, quick, hard jerk that had taken my bait, and which I thought
had been done by a shark. It was a swordfish striking the bait off!

Next day we left the dock at six fifteen, Dan and I alone. The day was
lowering and windy--looked bad. We got out ahead of every one. Trolled
out five miles, then up to the west end. We got among the Japs fishing
for albacore.

About eleven I sighted a B. B. We dragged a bait near him and he went
down with a flirt of his tail. My heart stood still. Dan and I both made
sure it was a strike. But, no! He came up far astern, and then went down
for good.

The sea got rough. The wind was chilling to the bone. Sheerwater ducks
were everywhere, in flocks and singly. Saw one yellow patch of small
bait fish about an inch long. This patch was forty yards across. No fish
appeared to be working on it.

Dan sighted a big swordfish. We made for him. Dan put on an albacore.
But it came off before I could let out the line. Then we tried a
barracuda. I got a long line out and the hook pulled loose. This was
unfortunate and aggravating. We had one barracuda left. Dan hooked it on
hard.

"That'll never come off!" he exclaimed. We circled old _Xiphius_, and
when about fifty yards distant he lifted himself clear out--a most
terrifying and magnificent fish. He would have weighed four hundred. His
colors shone--blazed--purple blue, pale green, iridescent copper, and
flaming silver. Then he made a long, low lunge away from us. I bade him
good-by, but let the barracuda drift back. We waited a l