American Angler in Australia (1937) (6 page)

In the United States the consumption of fish as food has increased fort
y
per cent in the last ten years.

Chapter
V

Crossing the river on the ferry at Bateman Bay, from which the wonderfu
l
Toll Gates can be seen out at sea, I conceived an idea that this plac
e
had marvelous potentialities for fishing. As a matter of fact, the plac
e
haunted me so that I went back, motored all around the bay, walked ou
t
upon the many wooded capes that projected far out toward the sentine
l
Toll Gates, patrolled the curved sandy beaches, and finally interviewe
d
the market fishermen. The result was that I broke camp at Bermagui an
d
chose a lovely site three miles out from Bateman Bay, where we pitche
d
camp anew. It turned out that the vision in my mind's eye had been right.

This camp was the most beautiful and satisfactory of all the hundreds o
f
camps I have had in different countries. How it will turn out from
a
fishing standpoint remains to be seen. But I would like to gamble on m
y
instinct.

I fished all the way up from Bermagui, and the distance must have bee
n
all of fifty miles. I trolled a good-sized bonito for eight hour
s
without a rise. The north-east breeze had freshened the day, and at fou
r
o'clock the sea was ridged white and blue. It was rough enough to make m
e
hold on to my chair with one hand and my rod in the other. I wanted t
o
take the first swordfish in to Bateman Bay.

There was a long cape to the north-west, standing far out into the ocean.

It appeared we would never reach it. But at last we did, and saw th
e
grand opening of Bateman Bay guarded by those noble Toll Gates, grea
t
bare rocks, standing aloof and august, facing the sea, and shadowed wit
h
the western sunset lights.

It was with most unusual excitement that I sighted the familiar an
d
thrilling purple flashes of a swordfish back of my bait. "There he is!"

And he had the bait, to swerve and speed away.

"Well, it's about time. Nine hours!" called Peter, as he threw out th
e
clutch. "Be sure you hook him."

I made sure of that, and for half an hour, in a rough sea, I had a har
d
fight with a game fish. He almost got away. We were proud to run into th
e
little cove we had renamed Crescent Bay, where my camp had been pitche
d
while I fished the day through.

There was an enthusiastic crowd waiting, but nothing to the large an
d
vociferous one that greeted us when we trucked the swordfish up to town.

Most, in fact almost all, of the inhabitants had never seen a swordfish.

The reception the townspeople gave me was second only to what they gav
e
the fish. So my start at Bateman Bay was auspicious.

Then, following that lucky opening, we had bad weather. Days of storm! N
o
sooner would it clear up and give us hope of sunshine and warmth when i
t
blew again. From all directions!

We ran out almost every day, certainly the days that it was possible t
o
fish. We did not see a swordfish. I was not discouraged at this, becaus
e
I have learned that patience and endurance are imperative for a deep-se
a
fisherman. Besides, we occasionally hooked a shark, and really I wanted
a
big shark more keenly than a swordfish.

After ten days the weather cleared and grew warm. That very firs
t
morning, drifting with a bait deep off Black Rock, I had a magnificen
t
strike which I was sure came from a black Marlin. He took the bai
t
easily, slowly made off, began to go faster and faster, and rise to th
e
surface, until Peter and I yelled for the inevitable jump. It did no
t
come. That fish got rid of the hook without leaping or showing his size;
a
nd I was a bitterly disappointed angler.

I did not, however, have long to bemoan my bad fortune. The camera-boa
t
hooked up with a fish, and I couldn't miss that. There were alway
s
excitement and fun galore when my camera crew got hold of a fish. So I
r
an out to them. It would be quite beyond me to describe adequately wha
t
I witnessed. I shall record it in Bowen's terms:

"Gus Bagnard, my second camera man, was most eager to catch a swordfish.

From his conversation I was sure that he thought it a simple matter
,
merely a case of tossing a bait overboard and pulling in the fish.

"He had been on the camera boat the day that I conceived the idea that i
f
two teasers were good, more would be better. The idea may have been al
l
right, but the execution was terrible. The extra teasers were tied wit
h
cord that had long since outlived its usefulness, and consequently kep
t
breaking.

"A pleasant morning was had by all, in circling about, netting los
t
teasers. It was because of this that Gus hooked his swordfish.

"A teaser dropped off on the windward side and the boatman, forgettin
g
all about the trailing lines, cut back so sharply that lines and tease
r
cords were twisting and twirling about, making a grand tangle. The
y
missed the teaser on the first attempt at it, and again the boatman swun
g
sharply, again not helping matters in the least. This occurred severa
l
times, and mind you the sea was quite rough. Suddenly I, who had bee
n
most busy keeping my bait from fouling, sighted a swordfish some distanc
e
in back. I yelled at Gus, whose bait was twisting around one of th
e
teasers, to clear his line. Gus was making frantic effort to do so whe
n
the fish came up directly under his bait and swallowed it withou
t
ceremony.

"For some inexplicable reason Gus's line pulled free from the teaser an
d
ran out with a mighty zip. In his excitement Gus forgot to keep enoug
h
tension on his reel and line was pouring all over the place. I jumped t
o
his aid and between us we managed to pull out the loose overrun line, fo
r
the fish had by now conveniently stopped. Things were well in hand--tha
t
is except for the lost teaser which the boatman was still seeking. 'Sto
p
the boat!' I yelled. Whether my voice did not carry or whether th
e
boatman was going to get the teaser or bust, I never shall know, but a
t
any rate they kept on, slowly of course, while the fish merely sulked o
n
top of the water, shaking his head and paying little or no attention t
o
Gus, who was pulling for all he was worth to take the slack out of hi
s
line.

"'Give me the harness!' Gus yelled. Thereupon Andy, my camera man
,
brought forth the harness and proceeded to help Gus put it on. Maybe i
t
was the swaying of the boat, a gust of wind, putting on the harness, o
r
all three things, but at any rate Gus's hat flew off his head and joine
d
the teaser, which was floating by off the starboard.

"'I've got it!' yelled one of the boatmen, coming up with a dip net ful
l
of teaser. Just then the fish grew tired of this horseplay and made
a
wild rush out to sea. The boatman started after him, when Gus screamed
,
'Hey, don't forget my hat!'

"I was laughing so hard by this time that I almost fell off the boat. Th
e
boatman, drawn between two evils, chose the lesser one and went after th
e
hat. Gus was trying to keep a tight line on the fish while at the sam
e
time he was twisted around like an ostrich, in attempting to keep trac
k
of his hat.

"It might have been all right if the fish had continued to go one way an
d
the boat the other, but just about the time they were nearing the hat
,
the fish looped back and came swimming towards the boat. The movement o
f
the boat kept the line taut, but the fish in making the circle ha
d
evidently slacked enough of the line to free himself from the hook.

"'Here it is!' yelled the boatman as he dipped up the droopy hat. 'Al
l
right,' stated Gus, with relief. 'Now I'll show you how to catch thi
s
fish.' He reeled in hard and fast. Poor Gus, how he must have felt whe
n
he saw a baitless hook come dancing over the water. Anyway, he got hi
s
hat, the boatman got his teaser, and the rest of us got a laugh."

Following that event of the camera crew I trolled around and on out fo
r
an hour, when we discovered the other boat in trouble again. This time i
t
proved to be Bowen who had gotten himself fast to a heavy fish. As soo
n
as we had ascertained that, we trolled on, circling his boat at a goodl
y
distance. As Brown did not make any apparent headway with this fish, w
e
ran over again, to find him in sore straits.

That boat was not a comfortable one from which to fight a fish which ha
d
sounded deep. The chairs were wrong. There was a high railing on th
e
stern which made it hazardous when a fish worked round astern. A sudde
n
rush would snap the rod. If the fish sheered under the boat--well, then i
t
was goodnight. Bowen was hunched on the side, his rod on the gunwale, th
e
tip wagging, and the line stretched like a banjo string. Gus held him b
y
the belt to keep him from being pulled overboard. In truth, he was in
a
grievous state, one I had suffered a thousand times. And it gave me
a
feeling of glee. I called through my megaphone:

"Ed, you've been on that fish two hours."

"Yaas!" bawled Bowen. "That's no news to me. What's it to you?"

"Your face is fearfully red and wet. Your shirt is coming off. And you
r
efforts are appreciably ineffectual."

"Are you telling me?" yelled Ed, frantically. "Go 'way!"

"But you are doing a lot of things wrong," I protested.

"Oh, I am! Ha! Ha! For instance what?"

"If you want to hold a fish in that position or stop him, take hold o
f
the line with both hands. If you can't do either, let him have line--le
t
him run off so you can straighten up--rest your arms--give him a chance t
o
come to the surface, so you can have a different leverage."

"Aw!--look at that! He's taking line, millions of yards!--How 'n hell wil
l
I ever reel him back?"

"Ed, listen," I called. "You don't reel a fish up. You pump him with th
e
rod to get slack line--then you reel that..
. B
ut I'm afraid this fis
h
is too much for you. He's licked you."

"He has--not!" panted Ed, wildly. "I've got him licked, only he won't com
e
up..
. B
esides, it's no fish, I tell you. It's a whale or something."

"Ed, you betray every evidence of late hours, and cigarettes, the bottle
,
and in fact a misspent life..."

"Go 'way!" shouted Bowen. "You'll make me so weak I'll lose him."

Bowen always claimed my advice would make him lose his fish. Wherefore I
d
iscreetly ran off, and trolled for two hours. Upon my return they ha
d
his fish tied up to the boat--a shark, of black hue and ferocious aspect
,
and of heavy frame. I did not know what kind it was.