* * * * *

An extraordinary achievement and record fell to my brother R. C. It was
too much good luck ever to come my way. Fame is a fickle goddess. R. C.
had no ambition to make a great catch of swordfish. He angles for these
big game of the sea more to furnish company for me than for any other
reason. He likes best the golden, rocky streams where the bronze-back
black-bass hide, or the swift, amber-colored brooks full of rainbow
trout.

I must add that in my opinion, and Captain Danielson's also, R. C. is a
superior angler, and all unconscious of it. He has not my intimate
knowledge of big fish, but he did not seem to need that. He is powerful
in the shoulders and arms, his hands are strong and hard from baseball
and rowing, and he is practically tireless. He never rested while
fighting a fish. We never saw him lean the rod on the gunwale. All of
which accounts for his quick conquering of a Marlin swordfish. We have
yet to see him work upon a broadbill or a big tuna; and that is
something Captain Dan and I are anticipating with much pleasure and
considerable doubt.

August 31st dawned fine and cool and pleasant, rather hazy, with warm
sun and smooth sea.

The night before we had sat in front of our tents above the beach and
watched the flying-fish come out in twos and threes and schools, all the
way down the rugged coast. I told the captain then that swordfish were
chasing them. But he was skeptical.

This morning I remembered, and I was watching. Just at the Glory Hole my
brother yelled, "Strike!" I did not see the fish before he hit the bait.
It is really remarkable how these swordfish can get to a bait on the
surface without being seen. R. C. hooked the Marlin.

The first leap showed the fish to be small. He did not appear to be much
of a jumper or fighter. He leaped six times, and then tried to swim out
to sea. Slow, steady work of R. C.'s brought him up to the boat in
fifteen minutes. But we did not gaff him. We estimated his weight at one
hundred and thirty pounds. Captain Dan cut the leader close to the hook.
I watched the fish swim lazily away, apparently unhurt, and sure to
recover.

We got going again, and had scarce trolled a hundred yards when I saw
something my companions missed. I stood up.

"Well, this starts out like your day," I remarked to my brother.

Then he saw a purple shape weaving back of his bait and that galvanized
him into attention. It always thril