HUNTING THE SWORDFISH.

Northern Advocate, 8 September 1913, Page 2

HUNTING THE SWORDFISH.

A DREADED DENIZEN OF THE SEA

PUTS UP A TERRIBLE CHARGE

All along the New England coast of the United States the fishing schooners and sloops have been fitting out for swordfishing. As with the mackerel, no one knows where the swordfish comes or whither th-y go. They generally show up first off Block Island, and then remain around the Georges Banks and the Maine shores for about three months. They are most plentiful in July. Apparently they follow mackerel, herring, and squid along the shore.

I It is only within comparatively recent years that there has been a market for swordfish. Formerly they were not considered edible, but to-day they are booked among the choicest of piscatorial delicacies. The flesh has a strong, high flavour, which probably makes it esteemed by many for the same reason that Limburger, Roquefort, and Camembert cheeses are preferred to the mild cream cheeses.

The swordfish is the only known natural enemy of the dogfish, which it pursues relentlessly, mangling the adults and. devouring the "pups." With the decimation of swordfish the dogfish increase alarmingly. Each year it grows harder and harder for the swordfisherman to get full fares; the fish are growing scarcer and scarcer.

When it comes to putting up a scrap the swordfish is one of the most dreaded denizens of the sea. On many occasions the whale has felt liis sharp weapon, and has been glad to turn tale and run. Before the fleet has finished its swordfishing operations this season the fishermen will have many thrilling experiences. Up in the "pulpit" at the end of the bowsprit the harpoonist stands. His weapon has a sharp-pointed barb «.t the end, to which is made fast a stout warp. Unless the fish are frightened it -ist not difficult to get into the midst of the school, as they swim round in circles. The fins show just above the water. When one comes within range of the man in the pulpit lip hurls his barb. The handle comes off, and is pulled back by the lanceman, but the barb, with the warp attached, remains in the flesh. To the other end of the warp is fastened a keg, which is then thrown overboard. The dory is put over, and then begins the chase of the bobbing keg. The barb never kills the fish; it takes a lance to do that. Once the dorymen reach the keg they begin hauling it in, gradually tiring out the quarry until they get him to the surface, when the lance is thrust into the gills and the fish killed. A strap is then buckled round his tail, and when the schooner comes up he is hoisted aborad. He is cleaned, scrubbed of blood and dirt, and packed solidly in ice in the hold. This operation is repeated until a full fare is obtained —anywhere between 25 to 100 fish —when they are taken to market. THROUGH OAK PLANK. Prof. Richard Owen once testified in and English court: "The swordfish strikes with the accumulated force of fifteen double-headed hammers. Its velocity is equal to that of a swivel shot, and is as dangerous in its efects as a heavy artillery projectile."

When first struck by the barb the swordflsh will sometimes charge directly for the bottom, hitting its sword with such force as to break it. Generally, too, the fish's neck is broken. This also results when he charges a vessel or dory- Last season the schooner Albert W. Black, of Portland, began to leak from some .mysterious cause, and it became so bad that Captain Doughty put into Gloucester and hauled out. Then a broken sword was found sticking in

the schooner's bottom. It had gone through two inches of solid white oak and two and a half inches of hard pine ceiling. Twice last season Jean Nooman, of South Portland, sat in a dory and saw three feet of sword crash through the bottom directly in front of him, once so close that the sword grazed his leg. In each case the fish's neck was broken. Nooman says the craft was almost lifted from the water. Joel Silva, of Provincetown, was sitting in a dory when a sword struck one of his legs, severing a big artery, eventually causing his death. KILLED IN HIS DORY. Ernest Gledhill was fishing - on the Georges Banks a few seasons ago (says the Xew York "World"). A fish had been struck, and Gledhill and a companion were rowing after the trawl keg. They caught it, and began haul'ng the fish in. They had it nearly to the top when they carelessly allowed the line to become slack. The infuriated fish took advantage of it to make a sudden dash downward, jerking the rope from Gledhill's hands. This caused him to loose his balance, and he fell flat in the bottom of the dory. Before he could get up the fish turned and charged. There was a shock, a splintering of wood, and an agonised cry from Gledhill as the sword passed through his prostrate form between the shoulder blades and protruded from his breast six inches. Almost simultaneously the grey-white body of the swordfish, with kneck broken and sword snapped off, rolled out. from under the dory and floated, belly up, on the surface. Gledhill was dead when his dory mate pulled him from the sword. In 1871 a swordfish inflicted such a wound on the thin hull of the yacht Redhot that she went to the bottem. In 1875 the Gloucester schooner Wayoming was attacked by a swordfish on the Georges Banks; it drove its sword right through the side, just below the water line. The fish struggled so to escape that it broke the sword off. The schooner leaked so badly the crew made port. It was night, and they pumped until morning. Owing to the darkness the trouble could not be located. Had the fish succeeded in pulling its sword out the schooner would undoubtedly have foundered.