Catching A Swordfish
pp. 44-45 · Read in the full issue
By W. S. Bond
ONE day recently, spectators on Avarua waterfront watched a spectacular sea-battle. An elderly native fishing with a handline from a small, one-man canoe hooked a hefty swordfish and fought it to a finish. In the typical maner of its kind, the big fish tore around and leapt into the air and it seemed almost impossible that the fight ing fury could be subdued single-handed from such a frail and delicately-bal anced cra ft Big-game fishing from a powerful motor launch is recognised as a most thrilling sport but to the native fisherman, the swordfish just means a few hundred pounds of good “kai-kai” on the end of a line a few hundred pounds of ob streperous kai-kai that has to be sub dued by sheer strength and skill to bring it to the frying-pan.
The marlin is not popular with the native fisherman owing to its violent tactics, although an occasional one is hooked when deep-fishing for tuna. In fair weather or even in not-so-fair weather if the fish are biting the patient, deep-sea fishermen form a wide spread semi-circle, riding the ocean swells in their outrigger canoes and tend ing baited lines reaching down fifty fathoms or more. The luck varies and sometimes a whole day may pass with out a bite. Viewed from a distance it appears to be a monotonous and tiresome business. But the fishermen manage to find quite a lot of entertainment among themselves; there is much joking and leg-pulling along the line and when a lucky man makes a catch the rest of the fleet yell advice and encouragement—not unmixed with sarcasm.
Strange curses rend the air when a hooked fish makes a wide sweep and fouls a number of other lines. Several lines snarled together far below the sur face with a large, fighting fish in their midst makes a pretty tangle to unravel.
A favourite joke is played on occasions when the fishing is slow. A skilful diver will slip quietly into the water and swim beneath the surface to a; position under the canoe of a drowsy-looking individual further along. Taking a grip on the line
the diver tugs strongly and the rest of the crowd roar encouragement as the victim rouses suddenly from his siesta and starts to wrestle excitedly with what appears to be a “big-’un.” The fisher man relaxes as the strain eases and a grinning brown face pops up behind him with a startling “Boo!”
NOW for a hint on what to do about some of those big fish which refuse to take your hook. An old fishing joke when the going is slow is, “How about going down and hooking one on?”
Well, why not? It can be done!
The scene is Penrhyn lagoon where two natives were fishing from a canoe for a smaller type of fish. The fishing was ruined when a swordfish, attracted by the “chumming” and gathering of lesser fishes, decided to come and help himself. Further fishing was out of the question with this marauder around, so one of the men made a quick decision.
“I will fix him!” he said as he proceeded to fasten a large hook to a length of stout line. Grasping the shank of the hook in his right hand he ordered his companion to tend the line, then he lowered himself into the water and swam down to where the swordfish was cruis ing.
Watching for his chance, he lunged for ward as the big fish swept close past him and slammed the hook into its throat.
Quickly returning to the surface, the man joined his companion on the other end of the line and the swordfish was soon brought alongside and finished with a club.
Penrhyn divers are in the first rank of the most skilful and daring divers of the South Seas. An experienced Pen rhyn diver will tackle a shark in his own element armed only with a sheath knife.
One of the biggest swordfish ever caught in Rarotonga was brought in by a Mangaian fisherman or to be strictly accurate, the Mangaian was brought m by the swordfish. After a furious acro batic display, the hooked giant decided to get away from this annoying vicinity and heading for the open ocean, made (Continued next page)
Beach Road, Penrhyn Island.
off at a great pace. There was nothing the fisherman could do to check this mad rush and the small canoe was towed sea ward as though propelled by an outboard motor.
The Mangaian strove desperately to keep the slender craft on an even keel and he cast many an anxious glance over his shoulder as the island fell astern and the marlin showed no sign of stop ping except to throw an occasional wild leap, which threatened to destroy the canoe and it’s occupant.
Meanwhile, there was great concern ashore as the canoe steadily vanished towards the horizon. From all sides came the cry, “Why doesn’t he cut the line? He must have completely lost his head with fright!”
Out on the darkening ocean the Man gaian began to think that he was at tached to some legendary monster of the deep that was bent on towing him to some unknown destination. Then at long last, the swordfish decided that he had had enough of hauling this heavy load and abruptly turned about and headed back the way he had come. Right back to the island he came, tiring now, and his leaps grew less spectacular and threatening.
THE spectators on shore watched with astonishment as the strange pro cession cruised straight into the harbour. Right among the piles of the wharf the big fish floundered, zig-zag ging around and tangling the line, un til eager hands ended his career with a hardwood club.
The crowd gathered round the ex hausted fisherman and congratulated him on his remarkable escape from disaster. “But tell us,” they asked, “why ever didn’t you think to cut the line?”
The Mangaian straightened up and stared at the questioners. “What? Cut the line?” He was incredulous. “Cut a brand new coil of line? Why, you people must be crazy!”