American Angler in Australia (1937) (13 page)

When Peter turned to me his broad breast heaved--his breath whistled--th
e
corded muscles stood out on his arms--he could not speak.

"Pete!--Good work. I guess that's about, the hardest tussle we've ever ha
d
at the gaff."

We towed our prize into the harbor and around to the dock at Watson'
s
Bay, where a large crowd awaited us. They cheered us lustily. The
y
dragged the vast bulk of my shark up on the sand. It required twenty-od
d
men to move him. He looked marble color in the twilight. But the tige
r
stripes showed up distinctly. He knocked men right and left with hi
s
lashing tail, and he snapped with those terrible jaws. The crowd
,
however, gave that business end of him a wide berth. I had one good lon
g
look at this tiger shark while the men were erecting the tripod; and I
a
ccorded him more appalling beauty and horrible significance than all th
e
great fish I had ever caught.

"Well, Mr. Man-eater, you will never kill any boy or girl!" I flung a
t
him.

That was the deep and powerful emotion I felt--the justification of m
y
act--the worthiness of it, and the pride in what it took. There, I a
m
sure, will be the explanation of my passion and primal exultance.

Dr. Stead, scientist and official of the Sydney Museum, and Mr. Bullen o
f
the Rod Fishers' Society, weighed and measured my record tiger shark.

Length, thirteen feet ten inches. Weight, one thousand and thirty-si
x
pounds!

Chapter
IX

As luck would have it, my manager, Ed Bowen, had the honor of catchin
g
the first striped Marlin swordfish ever brought in to Sydney. The fea
t
pleased me almost as much as if I had done it myself.

We had seen several swordfish tails cutting the swells off Sydney Heads
,
from three to ten miles out, and we were satisfied that we could catc
h
some Marlin if only we had some good weather. But out of three weeks a
t
Watson's Bay we had only a few days when we could fish. And it s
o
happened that the day I caught a five-hundred-and-forty-pound whaler shar
k
and an eight-hundred-and-five-pound tiger was the one on which Bowe
n
snagged the coveted prize of the first Marlin for Sydney.

He deserved credit for it, too. The sea was rough out wide, as th
e
Australians call offshore, and he followed my pet method of running th
e
wheels off the boat. Fishing out of Bullen's boat, with the genial Errol
l
as companion, Bowen ran along the cliffs, catching bait as far down a
s
Bondi, then struck out to sea. Twelve miles or so out they hit into tha
t
warm blue south-bound current I have mentioned so often, and trolled t
o
and fro, up and down, from ten until three without a rise.

About three, however, Bowen saw a blue streak shooting in toward bait an
d
teasers. He yelled lustily. Bullen then saw the fish and swiftly reele
d
in his bait. It was an even break for the anglers, both baits abreast
,
with fame for the lucky one. Bullen's action would be incredible unde
r
ordinary circumstances, but considering that he had started the big-gam
e
fishing at Sydney, and had been three years trying and learning unde
r
many handicaps, this sporting deed, this generous sacrifice, was one o
f
singular and extraordinary self-effacement and sportsmanship. I have don
e
this trick a few times in my life, mostly for my brother R
. C
., but I
d
oubt that I could have done it in this peculiar case.

The Marlin was ravenous, and gobbling Bowen's bait he was off to th
e
races. Bowen said he had never been so keen, so tense to hook a fish, an
d
that he had the thrill of his life when he came up on the weight of th
e
Marlin. This Marlin was one of the wild ones and ran and jumped all ove
r
the ocean. In due course Ed whipped this fish and Bullen gaffed it. Wit
h
the beautiful purple-striped specimen on board they headed for Sydne
y
Harbor, and ran in to Watson's Bay just before sunset. The fish wa
s
weighed in before a record crowd, and registered one hundred an
d
seventy-two pounds. The size, however, had nothing to do with th
e
importance of the event. Telephones began to buzz and in an hour all th
e
reporters in Sydney were on the job. The feat was heralded as i
t
deserved. Before eight o'clock every vestige of that Marlin, except th
e
backbone, was gone, for souvenirs and morsels of meat to cook.

Even before the capture of this game species of sporting fish, I ha
d
already envisioned Watson's Bay, Sydney, as one of the grea
t
fishing resorts of the world. I can see a fine hotel and cottages go u
p
in that delightful bay, and many high-powered fast launches with capabl
e
boatmen to take care of the anglers from overseas.

Australians, with few exceptions, will go slowly for this new sport. The
y
have not been born to it. Nothing has been known of the swordfish, an
d
the great sharks were considered as vermin, hardly worth the use of
a
hand line. But the overseas anglers will change all this. Thei
r
experience, their reputation, their fishing-gear, and their incredibl
e
passion for the game will intrigue the hundreds of rich sportsmen i
n
Australia, and excite in them a spirit of rivalry. "Here," they will say
,
"what's all this about? All this expense and persistence. What are w
e
missing?"

The big sharks will interest the overseas fishermen. Every last one o
f
them will want to capture a huge tiger shark. Personally, I don't se
e
anything lacking in this tiger to make him a prize. He is a strong
,
heavy, mean fighter. He is full of surprises. He is huge and frightful
,
beautiful and savage in the water, and terrible out of it. If, in an
y
particular case, there is something lacking in this tiger shark, it i
s
more than made up for by the nature of the beast, by the fact that h
e
is a killer and will eat you. In my mind that is a feature formidabl
e
and magnificent.

For myself the catching of some tiger sharks was an outstandin
g
achievement, and that of my record tiger something never to be forgotten.

The sensations this fish roused in me during the strike and battle, an
d
especially my first sight of him, and then when he was hauled up on th
e
sand, stand out in my memory as marvelous and indescribable.

I have written elsewhere about the wonderful setting Sydney Heads and th
e
harbor and Sydney provide for the appreciative angler. Big sharks, bi
g
black Marlin, and his smaller cousin, the striped Marlin, will make
a
growing appeal to all anglers in the world who love the big rod-and-ree
l
game, and who will take the time and spend the money to obtain it. Th
e
fact is it is not a game that can be had cheaply, although Sydney, lik
e
Avalon, California, will afford angling within the means of mos
t
sportsmen. The thing is to have them realize its greatness. Time alon
e
can prove that. Here's to the Sydney of the future generations o
f
anglers!

Only one thing I fear that might interfere in some degree with m
y
prediction. And that is the weather. All I saw off Sydney Heads, excep
t
for a few days, was wind. It can blow there. This, however, would onl
y
bother the overseas anglers. Australians like Bullen will fish when th
e
weather is good. It is always irksome for anglers to come a long way an
d
fall upon evil days, gales and rough seas. Only the persistent an
d
passionate angler can prevail in spite of these. I do not see, however
,
that any really great fishing anywhere can be had without hard work
,
incredible patience and endurance.

During an early hour of Bowen's red-letter day with the first Marlin fo
r
Sydney Heads, I hooked a mean shark that felt like the bottom of th
e
ocean.

It did not convince me it was a tiger, for which reason I was loath t
o
let the boatmen pull up anchor. I fought this fish tooth and nail, an
d
never gave it a foot of line that I could hold. All the same it kep
t
taking yard after yard until there was a long line out. Over five hundre
d
yards! Which is too many when there are other anchored boats around. On
e
great feature of the Kovalovsky reel was that with five hundred yards o
f
line out you still had a full spool left. With a long line, however, yo
u
need gradually to loosen your drag. Finally we had to up anchor and g
o
after this mean devil.

I decided that he was a whaler shark. He worked in a manner I had learne
d
to associate with this species. He resembled a submarine going places.

But we soon caught up with him and I got most of my line back. Then I ha
d
it out with him and stopped him in a little short of an hour.

Nevertheless, hauling him up to the boat was a different proposition.

Peter does not often indulge in remarks at my expense, but he mildl
y
observed that I always liked to have a fish on for a good few hours. Tha
t
English crack--"a good few hours"--nettled me, although I had to laugh.

Wherefore, instead of enjoying myself I settled down to grim business. I
m
ight as well have done this in the first place.

On a heavy fish deep down, the method of procedure is a short strong lif
t
of the rod and a quick wind of the reel. You don't get in many inche
s
each time. For a little while this is okay, but it grows to b
e
monotonous, then tiresome, and at length painful. Of course, I had th
e
whaler coming and he did not recover a single foot of line I gained.

While I was doing this he swam inshore and obligingly returned to th
e
neighborhood of the spot where he had made the fatal mistake of taking m
y
bait. There, at the end of two hours and something, I heaved that whale
r
up to the waiting boatmen. They treated him pretty rough, I was bound t
o
admit, and they added insult to injury by cutting a strip of meat out o
f
him for my next bait.

This whaler was one of the bronze-backed kind, about which Dr. Stead ha
d
talked at length. It was rather rare, and a harder fighter than the blac
k
or ordinary whaler. I could corroborate that, as it had given me as har
d
a fight as the eight-hundred-and-ninety-pound whaler I had caught a
t
Bateman Bay.

Presently we were anchored again and I was fishing with a long line ou
t
and a float which buoyed my bait somewhat near the surface. Peter wa
s
boiling the billy and Love was puttering around, setting the lunch table.

As I seldom ate any lunch while fishing, this procedure meant little t
o
me, except to amuse me. I hoped to hook a fish before they sat down t
o
tea, as I had done so many times with Peter in New Zealand. Usually w
e
drifted while the lunch process was under way. I hooked and caught th
e
first broadbill swordfish ever landed in New Zealand at this hour. I
t
required several hours, to be exact, and for one monumental occasio
n
Peter Williams forgot all about the boiling billy.