The book of the Tarpon

tide was strong, and through the deep channel of the mile-wide pass the smooth waves rolled without breaking. Here and there through the pass appeared patches of spattering water, marking places where shoals of minnows had been driven to the surface by bigger fish. Quickly gathering flocks of pelicans and gulls attacked the doomed little fish from above, sharks plowed the water beneath, and tarpon leaped among them, while swift andtrue as the flight of an arrow, schools of fierce cavally were headed for the fray. We paddled for the scene of biggest disturbance, which was near the middle of the channel. As we advanced the big waves, which had looked so smooth from a distance, became rolling hills down the sides of which we slid to the bottoms of deep valleys. From each of these we were smoothly lifted, up, up to the crest of a higher wave. Before we could reach them the last of the school of minnows we were chasing had been eaten and already the predatory birds and fish were busy with another bunch of their victims farther up Charlotte Harbor and an eighth of a mile distant. The wind was with us and the slackening tide still favorable, so a few minutes brought us to the battle-ground. Leaving control of the canoe to the Cameraman, who sat in the stern, I took in my paddle and, picking up the tarpon rod, cast the bait into the midst of the fray. As it touched the water it was seized by a big cavally, known to the Florida fisherman as jack-fish. The fish was ... --This text refers to the Paperback edition.