dry at low tide. When we arrived the tide was rising. Water scarcely a
foot deep, very clear. Bottom white, with patches of brown grass. We saw
bonefish everywhere and expected great sport. But no matter where we
stopped we could not get any bites. Schools of bonefish swam up to the
boat, only to dart away. Everywhere we saw thin white tails sticking
out, as they swam along, feeding with noses in the mud. When we drew in
our baits we invariably found them half gone, and it was our assumption
that the blue crabs did this.
At sunset the wind quieted. It grew very still and beautiful. The water
was rosy. Here and there we saw swirls and tails standing out, and we
heard heavy thumps of plunging fish. But we could not get any bites.
When we returned to camp we were told that the half of our soldier-crab
baits had been sucked off by bonefish. Did not believe that.
Tide bothered us again this morning. It seems exceedingly difficult to
tell one night before what the tide is going to do the next morning. At
ten o'clock we walked to the same place we were yesterday. It was a
bright, warm day, with just enough breeze to ruffle the water and make
fishing pleasant, and we certainly expected to have good luck. But we
fished for about three hours without any sign of a fish. This was
discouraging and we could not account for it.
So we moved. About half a mile down the beach I thought I caught a
glimpse of a bonefish. It was a likely-looking contrast to the white
marl all around. Here I made a long cast and sat down to wait. My
brother lagged behind. Presently I spied two bonefish nosing along not
ten feet from the shore. They saw me, so I made no attempt to drag the
bait near them, but I called to my brother and told him to try to get a
bait ahead of them. This was a little after flood-tide. It struck me
then that these singular fish feed up the beach with one tide and down
with another.
Just when my brother reached me I got a nibble. I called to him and then
stood up, ready to strike. I caught a glimpse of the fish. He looked big
and dark. He had his nose down, fooling with my bait. When I struck him
he felt heavy. I put on the click of the reel, and when the bonefish
started off he pulled the rod down hard, taking the line fast. He made
one swirl on the surface and then started up-shore. He seemed
exceedingly swift. I ran along the beach until presently the line
slackened and I felt that the hook had torn out. This was
disappointment. I could not figure that I had done anything wrong, but I
decided in the future to use a smaller and sharper hook. We went on down
the beach, seeing several bonefish on the way, and finally we ran into
a big school of them. They were right alongshore, but when they saw us
we could not induce them to bite.
* * * * *
Every day we learn something. It is necessary to keep out of sight of
these fish. After they bite, everything depends upon the skilful hooking
of the fish. Probably it will require a good deal of skill to land them
after you have hooked them, but we have had little experience at that so
far. When these fish are along the shore they certainly are feeding, and
presumably they are feeding on crabs of some sort. Bonefish appear to be
game worthy of any fisherman's best efforts.
It was a still, hot day, without any clouds. We went up the beach to a
point opposite an old construction camp. To-day when we expected the
tide to be doing one thing it was doing another. Ebb and flow and
flood-tide have become as difficult as Sanskrit synonyms for me. My
brother took an easy and comfortable chair and sat up the beach, and I,
like an ambitious fisherman, laboriously and adventurously waded out one
hundred and fifty feet to an old platform that had been erected there. I
climbed upon this, and found it a very precarious place to sit. Come to
think about it, there is something very remarkable about the places a
fisherman will pick out to sit down on. This place was a two-by-four
plank full of nails, and I cheerfully availed myself of it and, casting
my bait out as far as I could, I calmly sat down to wait for a bonefish.
It has become a settled conviction in my mind that you have to wait for
bonefish. But all at once I got a hard bite. It quite excited me. I
jerked and pulled the bait away from the fish and he followed it and
took it again. I saw this fish and several others in the white patch of
ground where there were not any weeds. But in my excitement I did not
have out a long enough line, and when I jerked the fish turned over and
got away. This was all right, but the next two hours sitting in the sun
on that seat with a nail sticking into me were not altogether
pleasurable. When I thought I had endured it as long as I could I saw a
flock of seven bonefish swimming past me, and one of them was a whopper.
The sight revived me. I hardly breathed while that bunch of fish swam
right for my bait, and for all I could see they did not know it was
there. I waited another long time. The sun was hot--there was no
breeze--the heat was reflected from the water. I could have stood all
this well enough, but I could not stand the nails. So I climbed down off
my perch, having forgotten that all this time the tide had been rising.
And as I could not climb back I had to get wet, to the infinite
amusement of my brother. After that I fished from the shore.
Presently my brother shouted and I looked up to see him pulling on a
fish. There was a big splash in the water and then I saw his line
running out. The fish was heading straight for the framework on which I
had been seated and I knew if he ever did get there he would break the
line. All of a sudden I saw the fish he had hooked. And he reached the
framework all right!
I had one more strike this day, but did not hook the fish. It seems this
bonefishing takes infinite patience. For all we can tell, these fish
come swimming along with the rising tide close in to shore and they are
exceedingly shy and wary. My brother now has caught two small bonefish
and each of them gave a good strong bite, at once starting off with the
bait. We had been under the impression that it was almost impossible to
feel the bonefish bite. It will take work to learn this game.
* * * * *
Yesterday we went up on the north side of the island to the place near
the mangroves where we had seen some bonefish. Arriving there, we found
the tide almost flood, with the water perfectly smooth and very clear
and about a foot deep up at the mangrove roots. Here and there at a
little distance we could see splashes. We separated, and I took the
outside, while R. C. took the inside close to the mangroves. We waded
along. Before I had time to make a cast I saw a three-pound bonefish
come sneaking along, and when he saw me he darted away like an arrow. I
made a long cast and composed myself to wait. Presently a yell from R.
C. electrified me with the hope that he had hooked a fish. But it turned
out that he had only seen one. He moved forward very cautiously in the
water and presently made a cast. He then said that a big bonefish was
right near his hook, and during the next few minutes this fish circled
his bait twice, crossing his line. Then he counted out loud: one, two,
three, four, five bonefish right in front of him, one of which was a
whopper. I stood up myself and saw one over to my right, of about five
pounds, sneaking along with his nose to the bottom. When I made a cast
over in his direction he disappeared as suddenly as if he had dissolved
in the water. Looking out to my left, I saw half a dozen bonefish
swimming toward me, and they came quite close. When I moved they
vanished. Then I made a cast over in this direction. The bonefish came
back and swam all around my bait, apparently not noticing it. They were
on the feed, and the reason they did not take our bait must have been
that they saw us. We fished there for an hour without having a sign of a
bite, and then we gave it up.
To-day about flood-tide I had a little strike. I jerked hard, but failed
to see the fish, and then when I reeled in I found he still had hold of
it. Then I struck him, and in one little jerk he broke the leader.
* * * * *
I just had a talk with a fellow who claims to know a good deal about
bonefishing. He said he had caught a good many ranging up to eight
pounds. His claim was that soldier crabs were the best bait. He said he
had fished with professional boatmen who knew the game thoroughly. They
would pole the skiff alongshore and keep a sharp lookout for what he
called bonefish mud. And I assume that he meant muddy places in the
water that had been stirred up by bonefish. Of course, any place where
these little swirls could be seen was very likely to be a bonefish bank.
He claimed that it was necessary to hold the line near the reel between
the forefingers, and to feel for the very slightest vibration. Bonefish
have a sucker-like mouth. They draw the bait in, and smash it.
Sometimes, of course, they move away, drawing out the line, but that
kind of a bite is exceptional. It is imperative to strike the fish when
this vibration is felt. Not one in five bonefish is hooked.
We have had two northers and the water grew so cold that it drove the
fish out. The last two or three days have been warm and to-day it was
hot. However, I did not expect the bonefish in yet, and when we went in
bathing at flood-tide I was very glad to see two fish. I hurried out and
got my rod and began to try. Presently I had a little strike. I waited
and it was repeated; then I jerked and felt the fish. He made a wave and
that was the last I knew of him.
Reeling in, I looked at my bait, to find that it had been pretty badly
chewed, but I fastened it on again and made another cast. I set down the
rod. Then I went back after the bucket for the rest of the bait. Upon my
return I saw the line jerking and I ran to the rod. I saw a little
splash, and a big white tail of a bonefish stick out of the water. I put
my thumb on the reel and jerked hard. Instantly I felt the fish, heavy
and powerful. He made a surge and then ran straight out. The line burned
my thumb so I could not hold it. I put on the click and the fish made a
swifter, harder run for at least a hundred yards, and he tore the hook
out.
This makes a number of fish that have gotten away from me in this
manner. It is exasperating and difficult to explain. I have to use a
pretty heavy sinker in order to cast the bait out. I have arranged this
sinker, which has a hole through it, so that the line will run freely.
This seems to work all right on the bite, but I am afraid it does not
work after the fish is hooked. That sinker drags on the bottom. This is
the best rigging that I can plan at the present stage of the game. I
have an idea now that a bonefish should be hooked hard and then very
carefully handled.
I fished off the beach awhile in front of the cabin. We used both kinds
of crabs, soldier and hermit. I fished two hours and a half, from the
late rising tide to the first of the ebb, without a sign or sight of a
fish. R. C. finally got tired and set his rod and went in bathing. Then
it happened. I heard his reel singing and saw his rod nodding; then I
made a dash for it. The fish was running straight out, heavy and fast,
and he broke the line.
This may have been caused by the heavy sinker catching in the weeds. We
must do more planning to get a suitable rig for these bonefish.
* * * * *
Day before yesterday R. C. and I went up to the Long Key point, and
rowed in on the mangrove shoal where once before I saw so many bonefish.
The tide was about one-quarter in, and there was a foot of water all
over the flats. We anchored at the outer edge and began to fish. We had
made elaborate preparations in the way of tackle, bait, canoe, etc., and
it really would have been remarkable if we had had any luck. After a
little while I distinctly felt something at my hook, and upon jerking I
had one splendid surge out of a good, heavy bonefish. That was all that
happened in that place.
It was near flood-tide when we went back. I stood up and kept a keen
watch for little muddy places in the water, also bonefish. At last I saw
several fish, and there we anchored. I fished on one side of the boat,
and R. C. on the other. On two different occasions, feeling a nibble on
his line, he jerked, all to no avail. The third time he yelled as he
struck, and I turned in time to see the white thresh of a bonefish. He
made a quick dash off to the side and then came in close to the boat,
swimming around with short runs two or three times, and then, apparently
tired, he came close. I made ready to lift him into the boat, when, lo
and behold! he made a wonderful run of fully three hundred feet before
R. C. could stop him. Finally he was led to the boat, and turned out to
be a fish of three and a half pounds. It simply made R. C. and me gasp
to speak of what a really large bonefish might be able to do. There is
something irresistible about the pursuit of these fish, and perhaps this
is it. We changed places, and as a last try anchored in deeper water,
fishing as before. This time I had a distinct tug at my line and I
hooked a fish. He wiggled and jerked and threshed around so that I told
R. C. that it was not a bonefish, but R. C. contended it was. Anyway, he
came toward the boat rather easily until we saw him and he saw us, and
then he made a dash similar to that of R. C.'s fish and he tore out the
hook. This was the extent of our adventure that day, and we were very
much pleased.
Next morning we started out with a high northeast trade-wind blowing.
Nothing could dampen our ardor.
It was blowing so hard up at No. 2 viaduct that we decided to stay
inside. There is a big flat there cut up by channels, and it is said to
be a fine ground for bonefish. The tide was right and the water was
clear, but even in the lee of the bank the wind blew pretty hard. We
anchored in about three feet of water and began to fish.
After a while we moved. The water was about a foot deep, and the bottom
clean white marl, with little patches of vegetation. Crabs and
crab-holes were numerous. I saw a small shark and a couple of rays. When
we got to the middle of a big flat I saw the big, white, glistening
tails of bonefish sticking out of the water. We dropped anchor and, much
excited, were about to make casts, when R. C. lost his hat. He swore. We
had to pull up anchor and go get the hat. Unfortunately this scared the
fish. Also it presaged a rather hard-luck afternoon. In fishing, as in
many other things, if the beginning is tragedy all will be tragedy,
growing worse all the time. We moved around up above where I had seen
these bonefish, and there we dropped anchor. No sooner had we gotten our
baits overboard than we began to see bonefish tails off at quite some
distance. The thing to do, of course, was to sit right there and be
patient, but this was almost impossible for us. We moved again and
again, but we did not get any nearer to the fish. Finally I determined
that we would stick in one place. This we did, and the bonefish began to
come around. When they would swim close to the boat and see us they
would give a tremendous surge and disappear, as if by magic. But they
always left a muddy place in the water. The speed of these fish is
beyond belief. I could not cast where I wanted to; I tried again and
again. When I did get my bait off at a reasonable distance, I could feel
crabs nibbling at it. These pests robbed us of many a good bait. One of
them cut my line right in two. They seemed to be very plentiful, and
that must be why the bonefish were plentiful, too. R. C. kept losing
bait after bait, which he claimed was the work of crabs, but I rather
believed it to be the work of bonefish. It was too windy for us to tell
anything about the pressure of the line. It had to be quite a strong tug
to be felt at all. Presently I felt one, and instead of striking at once
I waited to see what would happen. After a while I reeled in to find my
bait gone. Then I was consoled by the proof that a bonefish had taken
the bait off for me. Another time three bonefish came along for my bait
and stuck their tails up out of the water, and were evidently nosing
around it, but I felt absolutely nothing on the line. When I reeled in
the bait was gone.
We kept up this sort of thing for two hours. I knew that we were doing
it wrong. R. C. said bad conditions, but I claimed that these were only
partly responsible for our failure. I knew that we moved about too much,
that we did not cast far enough and wait long enough, and that by all
means we should not have cracked bait on the bottom of the boat, and
particularly we did not know when we had a bite! But it is one thing to
be sure of a fact and another to be able to practise it. At last we gave
up in despair, and upon paddling back toward the launch we saw a school
of bonefish with their tails in the air. We followed them around for a
while, apparently very much to their amusement. At sunset we got back
to the launch and started for camp.
This was a long, hard afternoon's work for nothing. However, it is my
idea that experience is never too dearly bought. I will never do some
things again, and the harder these fish are to catch, the more time and
effort it takes--the more intelligence and cunning--all the more will I
appreciate success if it ever does come. It is in the attainment of
difficult tasks that we earn our reward. There are several old bonefish
experts here in camp, and they laughed when I related some of our
experiences. Bonefishermen are loath to tell anything about their
methods. This must be a growth of the difficult game. I had an expert
bonefisherman tell me that when he was surprised while fishing on one of
the shoals, he always dropped his rod and pretended to be digging for
shells. And it is a fact that the bonefish guides at Metacumbe did not
let any one get a line on their methods. They will avoid a
bonefishing-ground while others are there, and if they are surprised
there ahead of others, they will pull up anchor and go away. May I be
preserved from any such personal selfishness and reticence as this! One
of these bonefish experts at the camp told me that in all his years of
experience he had never gotten a bonefish bite. If you feel a tug, it is
when the bonefish is ejecting the hook. Then it is too late. The
bonefish noses around the bait and sucks it in without any apparent
movement of the line. And that can be detected first by a little sagging
of the line or by a little strain upon it. That is the time to strike.
He also said that he always broke his soldier crabs on a piece of lead
to prevent the jar from frightening the fish.
Doctor B. tells a couple of interesting experiences with bonefish. On
one occasion he was fishing near another boat in which was a friend. The
water was very clear and still, and he could see his friend's bait lying
upon the sand. An enormous bonefish swam up and took the bait, and
Doctor B. was so thrilled and excited that he could not yell. When the
man hooked the fish it shot off in a straightaway rush, raising a ridge
upon the water. It ran the length of the line and freed itself. Later
Doctor B.'s friend showed the hook, that had been straightened out. They
measured the line and found it to be five hundred and fifty-five feet.
The bonefish had gone the length of this in one run, and they estimated
that he would have weighed not less than fifteen pounds.
On another occasion Dr. B. saw a heavy bonefish hooked. It ran
straight off shore, and turning, ran in with such speed that it
came shooting out upon dry land and was easily captured. These two
instances are cases in point of the incredible speed and strength
of this strange fish.
R. C. had a splendid fight with a bonefish to-day. The wind was blowing
hard and the canoe was not easy to fish out of. We had great difficulty
in telling when we did have a bite. I had one that I know of. When R. C.
hooked his fish it sheered off between the canoe and the beach and ran
up-shore quite a long way. Then it headed out to sea and made a long
run, and then circled. It made short, quick surges, each time jerking R.
C.'s rod down and pulling the reel handle out of his fingers. He had to
put on a glove. We were both excited and thrilled with the gameness of
this fish. It circled the canoe three times, and tired out very slowly.
When he got it close the very thing happened that I feared. It darted
under the anchor rope and we lost it. This battle lasted about fifteen
minutes, and afforded us an actual instance of the wonderful qualities
of this fish.
Yesterday R. C. hooked a bonefish that made a tremendous rush straight
offshore, and never stopped until he had pulled out the hook. This must
have been a very heavy and powerful fish.
I had my taste of the same dose to-day. I felt a tiny little tug upon my
line that electrified me and I jerked as hard as I dared. I realized
that I had hooked some kind of fish, but, as it was wiggling and did not
feel heavy, I concluded that I had hooked one of those pesky blowfish.
But all of a sudden my line cut through the water and fairly whistled. I
wound in the slack and then felt a heavy fish. He made a short plunge
and then a longer one, straight out, making my reel scream. I was afraid
to thumb the line, so I let him go. With these jerky plunges he ran
about three hundred feet. Then I felt my line get fast, and, handing my
rod to R. C., I slipped off my shoes and went overboard. I waded out,
winding as I went, to find that the bonefish had fouled the line on a
sponge on the bottom, and he had broken free just above the hook.
* * * * *
Yesterday the fag end of the northeast gale still held on, but we
decided to try for bonefish. Low tide at two o'clock.
I waded up-shore with the canoe, and R. C. walked. It was a hard job to
face the wind and waves and pull the canoe. It made me tired and wet.
When we got above the old camp the tide had started in. We saw bonefish
tails standing up out of the water. Hurriedly baiting our hooks, we
waded to get ahead of them. But we could not catch them wading, so went
back to the canoe and paddled swiftly ahead, anchored, and got out to
wade once more.
R. C. was above me. We saw the big tail of one bonefish and both of us
waded to get ahead of him. At last I made a cast, but did not see him
any more. The wind was across my line, making a big curve in it, and I
was afraid I could not tell a bite if I had one. Was about to reel in
when I felt the faint tug. I swept my rod up and back, hard as I dared.
The line came tight, I felt a heavy weight; a quiver, and then my rod
was pulled down. I had hooked him. The thrill was remarkable. He took a
short dash, then turned. I thought I had lost him. But he was running
in. Frantically I wound the reel, but could not get in the slack. I saw
my line coming, heard it hiss in the water, then made out the dark shape
of a bonefish. He ran right at me--almost hit my feet. When he saw me he
darted off with incredible speed, making my reel scream. I feared the
strain on the line, and I plunged through the water as fast as I could
after him. He ran four hundred feet in that dash, and I ran fifty. Not
often have I of late years tingled and thrilled and panted with such
excitement. It was great. It brought back the days of boyhood. When he
stopped that run I was tired and thoroughly wet. He sheered off as I
waded and wound in. I got him back near me. He shot off in a shoal place
of white mud where I saw him plainly, and he scared a school of bonefish
that split and ran every way. My fish took to making short circles; I
could not keep a tight line. Lost! I wound in fast, felt him again, then
absolutely lost feel of him or sight of him. Lost again! My sensations
were remarkable, considering it was only a fish of arm's-length at the
end of the line. But these bonefish rouse an angler as no other fish
can. All at once I felt the line come tight. He was still on, now
running inshore.
The water was about a foot deep. I saw the bulge, or narrow wave, he
made. He ran out a hundred feet, and had me dashing after him again. I
could not trust that light line at the speed he swam, so I ran to
release the strain. He led me inshore, then up-shore, and out toward sea
again, all the time fighting with a couple of hundred feet of line out.
Occasionally he would make a solid, thumping splash. He worked offshore
some two hundred yards, where be led me in water half to my hips. I had
to try to stop him here, and with fear and trepidation I thumbed the
reel. The first pressure brought a savage rush, but it was short. He
turned, and I wound him back and waded inshore.
From that moment I had him beaten, although I was afraid of his short
thumps as he headed away and tugged. Finally I had him within twenty
feet circling around me, tired and loggy, yet still strong enough to
require careful handling.