By Rock and Pool on an Austral Shore, and Other Stories by Louis Becke
page 47 of 216 (21%)
page 47 of 216 (21%)
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to begin fishing.
Each man had baited his hook with the third of an _atuli_--at this stage of their life about four inches long and exactly the colour and shape of a young mackerel--and within five minutes after "_Tu'u tau kafa_!" ("Let go lines!") had been called out several of the canoes around our own began to pull up fish--four to six pounders. I was fishing with a white cotton line, with two hooks, and Marèko with the usual native gear--a hand-made line of hibiscus bark with a barbless hook made from a long wire nail, with its point ground fine and well-curved inwards. We both struck fish at the same moment, and I knew by the zigzag pull that I had two. Up they came together--three spotted beauties about eighteen inches in length and weighing over 5 lbs. each. Then I found the advantage of the native style of hook; Marèko simply put his left thumb and forefinger into the fish's eye, had his hook free in a moment, had baited, lowered again and was pulling up another before I had succeeded in freeing even my first hook which was firmly fixed in the fish's gullet, out of sight. I soon put myself on a more even footing by cutting off the small one and a half inch hooks I had been using and bending on two thick and long-shanked four inchers. These answered beautifully, as although the barbs caused me some trouble, their stout shanks afforded a good grip and leverage when extracting them from the hard and keen-toothed jaws of the struggling fish. Then, too, I had another advantage over my companions; I was wearing a pair of seaboots which effectually protected my feet from either the terrible fins or the teeth of the fish in the bottom of the canoe. I had caught my eighth fish, when an outcry came from a canoe near us, as a young man who was seated on the for'ard thwart rose to his feet and began hauling in his line, which was standing straight up and down, taut |
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