t performance. Then that
swordfish, finding himself free, leaped for the open sea, and every few
yards he came out in a clean jump. I watched him, too fascinated to
count the times he broke water, but he kept it up till he was out of
sight on the horizon.

At first Captain Dan took the loss harder than I took it. But gradually
I realized what had happened, and, though I made a brave effort to be
game and cheerful, I was sick. It did seem hard that, after all those
twenty-five days of patience and hope and toil, I could not have hooked
the swordfish. I see now that it was nothing, only an incident, but I
shall never forget the pang.

That day ended my 1914 experience. The strain had been too hard on me.
It had taken all this time for me to appreciate what swordfishing might
be. I assured Captain Dan I would come back in 1915, but at the time he
did not believe me. He said:

"If you hadn't stuck it out so long I wouldn't care. Most of the
fishermen try only a few days and never come back. Don't quit now!"

* * * * *

But I did go back in 1915. Long ago on my lonely desert trips I learned
the value of companions and I dreaded the strain of this swordfishing
game. I needed some one to help lessen it. Besides that, I needed
snapshot pictures of leaping swordfish, and it was obvious that Captain
Dan and I would have our hands full when a fish got hooked. We had
music, books, magazines--everything that could be thought of.

Murphy, the famous old Avalon fisherman and tackle-maker, had made me a
double split-bamboo rod, and I had brought the much-talked-of B-Ocean
reel. This is Boschen's invention--one he was years in perfecting. It
held fifteen hundred feet of No. 24 line. And I will say now that it is
a grand reel, the best on the market. But I did not know that then, and
had to go through the trip with it, till we were both tried out. Lastly,
and most important, I had worked to get into condition to fight
swordfish. For weeks I rowed a boat at home to get arms and back in
shape, and especially my hands. Let no fisherman imagine he can land a
fighting swordfish with soft hands!

So, prepared for a long, hard strain, like that of 1914, I left Avalon
hopeful, of course, but serious, determined, and alive to the
possibilities of failure.

I did not troll across the channel between the islands. There was a big
swell running, and four hours of it gave me a disagreeable feeling. Now
and then