8
MR. EXPERT
ed.
The next instant from. eddying circles a huge, sided creature, flashing
the sword
sunlight like a mammorz inva
blade tossed by a giant, leaped high in the air, curved, fell, and disappeared in a cataract of spray. The reel screamed, as,“ în spite of the resistance of the drag, the line was dragged from it.
Mrs. Cutter had commanded her husband to hook a big tar- pon. The order had been obey- ed.
Ziba, Ryder came out of his. meditation. With a yell he sprang to his feet, but not so quickly as Mr. Cutter sprang to his. The little man went up in the air as if an infernal machine had ex- ploded beneath him. He screamed. shrieked. And then, to his skip- per's utter amazement, he flung the rod from him as if it were red-hot.
screamed
"Wha-wha-what?” Mr. Cutter. "Oh! Oh! What?” Cap'n Ziba's answer was a roar. "You've got one!" he bellowed.
"What you doin' with that pole? Pick it up!"
*.
The butt of the rod had, by a lucky chance, caught and wedged beneath the projecting stern thwart of the launch, otherwise it would have gone overboard. The heavy tip bent like a hoop. The reel screamed.
"Pick it up!" howed the fran- tic Ziba. "Grab it! Do you want to lose him? Grab it, I tell you!"
But Mr. Cutter made no move
Instead, to grab it.
he wrung his hands and lifted his voice in "My fingers!" he wailed. agony. "My fingers! I-I think they're cut off!"
Back of the Good Day, but more than a hundred feet farther back this time, the water again broke into foam. Once more the great taipon leaped, curved, and fell. Ziba forgot that this little jumping jack, hopping about and waving bleeding fin-
gers, was the person who had engaged his services for the day. He forgot diplomacy, tact, poli- teness, everything-except that
on the hook at the end of that jerking, straining line fish, a big fish, a whale of a fish.
3
was
He left the wheel and scrambl- ed headlong aft. He seized the butt of the jammed rod, jerked it loose, and held it in a desper-
ate clutch. "Now," he vowed
between his teeth.
see who's boss!"
-
"Now we'll
He had never caught a fish with
a rod and real in all his life, but ...... he had seen them so caught. He “ground” vigorously. The reel handle turned, but the line con- tinued to go out instead of com- ing in. The tarpon leaped again. Ziba reeled desperately, but to no avail. He lost patience. "By the Lord Harry!” he snarled. “If I can't grind you in I'll haul you, man-fashion."
He thrust the rod butt between his knees and seized the line with both hands. "Now I callate you'll come aboard,” he soliloquiz- ed. "Ow! Je-rusalem !” The palms of his hands and the inside of his fingers were cut to the bone. He let go of the line and gingerly grasped the rod once more.
Again the tarpon leaped, this time.farther from the boat than
was
ever. Ziba, grinding frantically but to no purpose, became aware that behind him someone speaking, groaning pleading. "Captain, Captain," quavered Mr. Cutter. "The boat! The boat! Where are we going? Don't you see-?””
*“Eh?" "Ziba turned "What!" he gasped. gosh!""
look. "Good
Had Gus Rockford been in charge of that boat he would have thrown the engine out of gear the moment the fish struck, but he had neglected to inform Cap'n the proper Ziba that this was procedure. Left to herself, the Good Day, with no on
one at the wheel and under the urge of the breeze on her quarter, had veer- ed from her course.down the middle of the river and was now the heading directly toward shore.
forward almost
Ziba plunged. as fast as he had plunged aft. Not quite so fast, for he was still clinging to the rod. He reach- ed for the wheel with one hand and whirled it over. The Good Day's nose swung away from the shore. The line, which had mo- now drew mentarily slackened, tight again and the rod jerked almost free. But Ziba had no intention of letting it go free. his Steadying the wheel with knees and regardless of the pain in his mutilated hands, he clung to it.
was
And Cap'n Ziba had an idea. "Here!" he ordered, addressing his passenger, "Here! I tell you what you do. You set in front
. of that wheel. Take hold of them wheel spokes and don't let the turn half an inch. She'll run all right that way.”
"But-but, Cap'n,
I-I can't. I've never steered a boat in my life. And I—I couldn't take hold · of anything, my hands are so sore."
"Eh? Your hands? I ain't got any hands. All I've got is a hot cockstove at the end of each arm. You grab that wheel and let me handle this damn' fish."
"But
you you can't handle him. Nobody could. He is he is as big as this boat. Oh, let him go! We we shall be drown- ed."
2
"Let him go nothin'! I'd handle the critter if he was big as a schooner. No fish is goin' to lick
me.
What you settin' there
for? Grab them spokes! If you don't I'll—I'll kick you overboard. Then you will drown.”:
Mr. Cutter grabbed the spokes. He winced as his sore fingers touched them, but he held on. The effects of the "fruit juice” had been scared out of him by the unexpected arrival of the tar- pon.
Ziba, back in the stern sheets of the Good Day, was learning his lesson. When the tarpon wanted to run there was nothing to do but let him run. When he stopped running and the line slackened, then was t the time to grind at the reel, for the line came in then. True, it went out again as soon as the fish started away, but that could not last forever.
"I'm gettin
to this fool crank and pole fishin'," he soll- loquized. “It's just a case of seein' who plays out first, him or me. All right, old boy warn you "I'm pretty tough."
*
I
Ten minutes passed, fifteen, twenty and still the battle rag- ed. Ziba's arms ached, his cut
THE CHINA MAIL THURSDAY SUPPLMENT, APRIL 22, 1937-
(Continued from Page 3)
hands were like fireballs, and the perspiration streamed down his face. But now now the tension was a trifle easier. The fish leap- ed no more, but he was out there -Ziba could see his broad back
-rolling on the surface.
Ten more minutes and the end came. Ziba, the butt of the rod tucked beneath his arm and the
to big gaff hook, attached
its chain, in his right hand, leaned. over the rail and carefully slid the point of the hook beneath the spreading gills. A quick tug, one more tremendous splash, and the war was over. Cap'n Ziba Ryder thrust a rope through the gills, -made the end fast to à cleat, leaned over the rail, and gloated.
A voice, shaking with excite- ment, was heard at his elbow. "Oh! Oh! Oh!” squealed little Mr. Henry Cutter. "Look at than him! Why, he is bigger Hendricks's-ever so much big- ger! I wouldn't have believed it. Captain, are you sure he can't get away?"
"Get away, with that rope What? Eh?" as through him? the thought suddenly flashed to his mind. "Eh? What are you doin' aft here?"
He dived headlong for the wheel. Too late. The next ins- tant there was a soft scraping beneath the Good Day's bow. The launch slid, careened slightly, and stopped.
Mr. Cutter, in the wild excite- ment attendant upon the landing of the great tarpon, had forgot- ten his duties as helmsman, had left the wheel, the Good Day's nose had swu y shoreward, and now here they were, hard and fast aground on a mud bank
Hours later, half past six by the Ryder watch, the Good Day, with its substitute skipper and its passenger, was moving toward the little pier. Cap'n Ziba sat by the wheel, Mr. Cutter sat in the chair, the big tarpon towed easi- ly alongside. Not a word had been spoken for at least forty minutes. Prior to that many had been spoken, Ziba being the speaker.
Ziba was a picturesque ruin. He had spent an hour and a half
in the wading about
mud and water, shoving, lifting, heaving, doing his best to get the launch off that bar and afloat. His wound- ed hands were wrapped în im- provised bandages.
But he was empty of conversa- ∙tion. He had said all there was to say. During the period while he was overboard, wrestling with the Good Day's bow, he had pressed his opinion of Mr. Cutter fully, copiously, and without re- serve. And Mr. Cutter had listened in silence.
ex-
And now Mr. Cutter, for the twentieth time, looked at his watch and groaned.” “Oh, dear!”. he muttered..
Ziba grunted. "What ails you now ?"
"I was thinking of
wife. She has been waiting since five.".
"Humph! Whose fault
it?"
Another pause and ther other long sigh.""""Well,'
ob-
· served Mr. Cutter "we can show her our big tarpon, anyway.”
"Our tarpon; huh! All right, F'll tell her you caught it, Mr. Expert. You and the fruit juice together":
"Perhaps," he faltered, “you
had better not mention the tar- pon, Captain. Of course, I rea- lise that it is all yours.
course,
J
“Um-hm, 30 was cl'clatin. Of
twas on your
pole, but bein' as you started to chuck the whole rig overboard I judged you was tired of it. Twa'n't mine, have let so perhaps I'd ought it go. I'll be glad explain to
no,
.....
your wife about
"Oh,
"No, I wouldn't do that. We won't men- tion that tarpon at all, Captain. You keep it."
say."
a
“Thanks,” dryly: “Just as you
in The Good Day moved on, the gathering dusk, toward the little pier. Mr. Cutter's gaze was fixed upon it, as condemned man's upon the scaffold where he is to hang. Cap'n Ziba regarded him. He was a pitiable specta- cle, that was a fact. Hands wound with a bloodstained handkerchief, narrow shoulders stooped, face the picture of misery dread. Poor little shrimp! and his bluff about being an ex- pert fisherman! That wife of his certainly had him buffaloed. Well, that was what a feller gót by marrying for just money.
his
and He
The Good Day was hailed be- pier. fore it drew alongside the "Henry!" called Mrs. Cutter. "Henry, is that you at last???
"Yes-yes, my dear. I'm late, but-"
"Late! Good heavens and earth! Do you realise what time I have been frightened it is? almost out of my senses
Mr. Cutter climbed stiffly up the steps. “I am very sorry, Caroline," he sighed.
you
think "Sorry! I should might be. Really, I-I-What in the world is that dirty rågon your hand?”
Mr. Cutter looked down at the handkerchief. "Why-why-" he stammered.
Ziba Ryder came to his res- cue: "His hands are sore maʼam,"
"When he explained,
you see the tarpon he caught you'll un- derstand why. Look here."
the He stepped to
Landing stage at the foot of the steps and, stooping, dragged the mam- moth tarpon from the water.
Mrs. Cutter bent, looked, and "Oh! gasped. "Oh!" she cried. Did my husband catch that that enormous creature?"
Mr. Cutter's mouth opened and closed. He looked at the fish, then at his wife, and then, finally, at Ziba Ryder.
And Ziba nodded. "Yes'm," he lied cheerfully. “Caught it with the pole and reel he told me you gave him. Can't land a fish like that in a couple of minutes; like even if you be an expert your husband. Don't wonder now that we was late, do you,
ma'am?"
Mrs. Cutter did not reply. She was still staring at the tarpon, and over her rubicund counten- ance was spreading a glow like a summer sunrise. “Oh!" she sigh- ed
"O-oh! Why, it is ever and ever so much, bigger than that one of the Hendrickses' Henry, darling. you are -why
wonderful!”
you're
She wrapped her husband in close embrace. From above one of her plump arms the upper part of his face showed. His eyes were fixed upon the grinning countenance of Ziba Ryder, and in them was an expression of deep, doglike gratitude.