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I have proved that the regulation Tuna Club nine-thread line and six-ounce tip are strong enough, if great care and skill be employed, to take the tricky, hard-jawed, wild-leaping sailfish.
In the winter of 1916 I persuaded Captain Sam Johnson, otherwise famous as Horse-mackerel Sam, of Seabright, New Jersey, to go to Long Key with me and see if the two of us as a team could not outwit those illusive and strange sailfish of the Gulf Stream. Sam and I have had many adventures going down to sea.
The various species of Tetrapturus have sometimes shared its title, and this is not to be wondered at, since they closely resemble Xiphias gladius, and the appellative has frequently been applied to the family Xiphiidæ the swordfish which includes them all. Spear-fish is a much better name. The "sailfish," Histiophorus americanus, is called by sailors in the South the "boohoo" or "woohoo."
And he ran, to come up far astern and begin to leap. I threw off the drag and yelled, "Go!" This was pleasant for Sam, who kept repeating, "Look at him yump!" The sailfish evidently wanted to pose for pictures, for he gave a wonderful exhibition of high and lofty tumbling, with the result, of course, that he quickly exhausted himself.
One, a heavy fish, did succeed in hooking himself and getting aboard. I could multiply events of this nature, but this is enough to illustrate my point that there is a vast difference between several fishermen out of thousands bringing in several sailfish in one season and one fisherman deliberately going after sailfish with light tackle and eventually getting them. It is not easy.
This advent added much to the attractiveness of Long Key for me. And Long Key was attractive enough before. Sailfish had been caught occasionally at Long Key, during every season. But I am inclined to believe that, in most instances, the capture of sailfish had been accident mere fisherman's luck.
Either the genial judge was obsessed or else this waahoo was a great fish. I was inclined to believe both, and then I forgot all about the matter. This year at Long Key I was trolling for sailfish out in the Gulf Stream, a mile or so southeast of Tennessee Buoy. It was a fine day for fishing, there being a slight breeze and a ripple on the water.
Some of the crew were lost, but others were saved by the speed and the efficiency of the surface rescue crews. The SQUALUS itself was tediously raised from the bottom of the sea. She was repaired and put back into commission, and eventually she sailed again under a new name, the U.S.S. SAILFISH. Today, she is a potent and effective unit of our submarine fleet in the Southwest Pacific.
Then I was attracted by something flashing in the water nearer the boat than my fish. Suddenly a sailfish leaped, straightaway, over my line. Then two leaped at once, both directly over my line. "Sam, they'll cut my line!" I cried. "What do you think of that?" Suddenly I saw sharp, dark, curved tails cutting the water. All was excitement on board that boat then. "A school of sailfish! Look! Look!"
I yelled to the boatman to let go, but either I was not quick enough or he did not obey, for the hook snapped free and the sailfish slowly swam away, his great purple-and-blue spotted sail waving in the water, and his bronze sides shining.
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