IN Florida the tarpon may be found during the winter east of Cape Sable in Barnes and Cards Sounds, and in Biscayne Bay. As the water becomes warmer, in February and March, it ascends the coasts. On the Gulf side it appears first at Marco, back of Cape Romano, then in the vicinity of Naples and Charlotte Harbor. Punta Rassa was formerly, and is yet, a favorite resort for Northern anglers, but Fort Myers, twenty-five miles above, on the Caloosahatchie, is now the principal rendezvous for tarpon fishing from March to May. Later the silver king wanders farther north, and during summer good fishing is abundant at any of the inlets. It is also abundant on the Texas coast. On the east coast of Florida, Jupiter and Indian River inlets are the best grounds for tarpon. The largest I have ever seen were at Indian River inlet.The tarpon is a fish of the tropical seas and is peculiarly sensitive to cold. I happened to be in Florida during the winters of 1886 and 1895 when most of the orange groves were killed by freezing. At Tampa the temperature fell to 19° F. As a result of the sudden chilling of the water I saw windrows of dead fish along the shores of the bays, especially at Charlotte Harbor. They were mostly sub-tropical fishes, and among them were hundreds of tarpon, large and small, many upward of a hundred pounds.

While the tarpon will take any kind of fish bait, or artificial bait for that matter, especially at the inlets or up the streams, mullet bait is generally used; and the prevalent method of allowing the fish to swallow the bait so as to hook him in the gullet will probably always be practiced, for it is the only sure plan to bring him to gaff. If hooked in the mouth or tongue when trolling or casting, he almost invariably shakes out the hook and escapes. Once in a while, however, one will be landed in this manner, and even with the artificial fly, in which event the honest angler feels a just pride in his happy performance and is the envy of them all.

I have had the best sport with tarpon, as early as 1878, up the fresh water rivers, using a salmon fly-rod and large gaudy flies. These were the small fry, however, running from ten to forty pounds, but even at these weights they demanded the best skill of the angler, inasmuch as they were hooked in the mouth, and only occasionally could one be landed.

At that time my old friend, Dr. Kenworty, of Jacksonville, Florida, was wild over tarpon fishing at Mayport, at the mouth of St. John's River. But the Doctor and his friends were using handlines, believing it impossible to kill one on the rod, and moreover, thought it quite a feat to land one with the handline, hooked in the mouth, as indeed it was. I remember well a wonderful array of big hooks attached to a metal strip that the good Doctor showed me as his latest invention to hold fast to a silver king. I think it was owing to Dr. Kenworty's enthusiasm in the matter that induced Colonel W. H. Wood, of New York, an old striped bass angler, to go to Florida to try conclusions with the tarpon with striped bass rod and tackle. At any rate, to Colonel Wood belongs the credit of bringing rod fishing for tarpon into the prominence and popularity it now holds.

In the winter of 1880–1 Mr. Samuel H. Jones, of Philadelphia, while trolling with the spoon in the Fort Pierce channel of Indian River Inlet, hooked and landed, after a contest of two hours, a tarpon weighing one hundred and seventy pounds with striped bass rod and tackle. This was the first tarpon of more than one hundred pounds killed on the rod. I was at that locality the following winter, and learned the full particulars of the extraordinary performance from Mr. Thomas Paine (son of Judge Paine, of Fort Capron), who was Mr. Jones's boatman on the occasion. Afterward I received a full account of it from a son of Mr. Jones, who was with him and witnessed the capture of the immense fish. It is worthy of note that the fish was hooked in the mouth and not in the gullet. Honor to whom honor is due.

In 1885 Colonel W. H. Wood, of New York, made rod fishing for tarpon famous at Puntarassa. In March, 1886, I was present when he brought in from Estero Bay his record fish of one hundred and forty-six pounds, and two others weighing nearly a hundred each. They were hung up and photographed by my shipmate, Judge Nicholas Longworth, of Cincinnati.

My friend, Mrs. T. J. Bachmann, of Florida, formerly Mrs. Stagg, of Kentucky, was high hook for many years with her two hundred-and-five-pound fish, which was mounted and exhibited in my department at the Chicago World's Fair, together with one of one hundred and ninety-six pounds caught by Mr. McGregor, of New York. Mr. Edward vom Hofe, of New York, in 1898, caught one at Captiva Pass weighing two hundred and eleven pounds, and Mr. N. M. George, of Danbury, Connecticut, afterward took one at Biscayne Bay of two hundred and thirteen pounds.

The equipment for tarpon fishing consists of a heavy striped bass rod, seven or eight feet long, a first-class multiplying reel, 100 to 150 yards of Cuttyhunk line of from 18 to 21 threads, and knobbed hooks, Nos. 8–0 to 10–0. The tarpon has no sharp teeth, but the edges of its jaws are sharp enough to cut an ordinary line, and open vertically. Owing to this fact it is imperative that a snell of wire, whit-leather, or of heavy braided cotton line be used.

Tarpon fishing, as usually practiced, requires a level head, considerable muscle, and a just appreciation of the tensile strength of tackle. With no thought of disparagement, it is none the less true, that not much real angling knowledge—as that term is understood in relation to salmon, trout or black bass fishing—is required. The hook is baited with mullet or other fish bait, a long cast made, and the bait allowed to remain on the bottom until "negotiated" by the huge fish. Usually a lot of slack line is pulled from the reel and coiled in the boat, in order that the fish may carry off the bait without hindrance, and so be induced to swallow it, when he is hooked in the gullet. Then the trouble begins. Feeling the prick of the hook he vaults into the air several feet, and continues to do so until exhausted, when he is reeled in to the gaff or taken ashore into shallow water, the latter plan being the best.

Huge fishes like the tarpon, jewfish or tuna are sooner brought to gaff by "pumping," as it is called. It is effected in this way: The rod is raised upward and backward and then quickly lowered to a horizontal position, when advantage is taken of any decreased tension or slack line by reeling it in as rapidly as possible. This operation is repeated whenever practicable, and as often as possible.

The plan of having a quantity of slack line in the boat, as mentioned, is really not necessary with a reel of the best quality, and is open to several obvious objections. A tarpon would not notice the slight pull on the line from such a reel, as it renders on the slightest provocation. A leather brake sewed to one of the bars of the reel, or one of the patented drag-handles, is absolutely necessary in playing a tarpon, otherwise the fingers are likely to suffer in consequence of the fierce rushes of the fish for freedom.

My good friend Major-General Eustace Hill, a retired officer of the British army, whom I initiated in tarpon fishing, declared to me—after an experience of thirty-five years in India, and ten summers in Norway, salmon fishing—that the two finest sports in the world were pig-sticking and tarpon fishing, notwithstanding he has a record of two hundred salmon in a single season—and there you are. But the General is one of the "strenuous" type of sportsmen. By the way his grandfather, Admiral Keppel, the ranking officer of the British navy, died a few years ago at the advanced age of ninety-four years; by a special Act of Parliament he was continued in active service until the day of his death.

During the winter months the tarpon may be found in the shallow water of bays of southern Florida, basking in the sun, under the mangroves. In such situations many are speared, or "grained," as it is called by native fishermen. But during the summer they may be seen by hundreds rolling and playing on the surface, at any of the deep inlets of either coast. At this time the angler, by trolling or surface fishing, may get scores of strikes in an hour, but as to landing them—that is another fish story.

The tarpon breeds in the West Indies and Central America, but not, I believe, in Florida. At all events, as a collector of fishes I have combed the shores and rivers of Florida, with a fine-meshed seine, from Titusville on the east coast to Tampa on the west coast, but never found a tarpon of less size than a foot in length. If they breed in the bays or rivers I certainly would have found some smaller ones.

Late in the winter of 1892, when engaged in the preparation of the United States Fish Commission exhibit for the Chicago World's Fair, my duties took me to Florida to collect fishes for the purpose of making gelatin casts of them for the great exposition. I was very desirous of obtaining a tarpon, but the season being backward and the water cold, none had been taken on the west coast up to that time—about the middle of March.

One day John Savarese, a prominent fish dealer of Tampa, informed me that he was putting in a pound net in Sarasota Bay as an experiment, it being the first ever introduced on the west coast of Florida. Here, then, seemed to be my only chance of getting a tarpon, as the time allotted for my stay in Florida was rapidly drawing to a close. Mr. Savarese promised to give me carte blanche instructions to the man in charge when the net was ready.

Accordingly, in a few days I left Tampa on the steamer for Braidentown, on the Manatee River, at the beginning of a norther. At Braidentown I engaged a carriage and drove across country, through the pine woods, to Sarasota Bay, arriving at The Palms, the charming little hotel built by good Mother Jones, who is now in Heaven. I enjoyed one of her matchless suppers after my drive through the rain and in the face of the fierce norther.

I found that the shanty of Captain Faulkner, who had charge of the pound net, was adjoining the hotel grounds. I interviewed him that evening, when he promised to go out to the net the next afternoon if the wind abated. As I knew that the northers of Florida lasted several days, and my time was limited, I replied that I would visit the net the next day.

On the next afternoon the norther was in full force and the sea running high. It required a good deal of persuasion for Faulkner to consent, but fortunately he yielded at last to my entreaties. We embarked in a sixteen-foot rowboat—Faulkner, a white man, a negro, and myself. The net was two miles down the bay. The wind was behind us, so we were soon there, drenched with spray, and quite cold.

The painter of the boat was made fast to one of the net stakes, and the men got into a large bateau that was moored alongside the trap of the net. After closing the tunnel of the net and loosening the stays they began hauling up the trap. Then the expected happened. A tarpon leaped high in the air in his attempt to escape, but striking one of the stakes, he fell back again into the trap.

"Captain!" I cried, "don't let him get away; that's the fellow I'm after!"

The net was swarming with fish of all kinds and sizes, from a ten-inch mullet to a ten-foot shark. Finally Captain Faulkner got his gaff-hook into the tarpon's gills. "What shall I do with him?" he asked.

"Put him in my boat," I answered.

Which was easier said than done, for it took the three of them to transfer him to my craft, from which I removed the middle thwarts to make room for his silver kingship. He was deposited on the bottom of the boat and the men resumed work.

Then the silver king rose up in his majesty and stood on his tail, towering above me, for he was over six feet tall. I immediately grabbed him in my arms with a grip born of desperation, for I knew it was my last and only chance to secure a tarpon. The boat was dancing about on the crest of the sea and the north wind howled. The palmettos on shore lashed their broad fronds as they bent before the gale. It was a difficult matter at best to keep one's feet, but with a slippery silver giant in one's arms it was a wonder that we both did not go overboard.

But I held on to him and got him down in the bottom of the boat. No sooner down, however, than he was up again. This time he slipped from my grasp and went down full length on the bottom with a noise like the felling of an ox in an abattoir, causing the men to pause in their work and look around.

"Let him go!" shouted the Captain. "He'll knock the bottom of the boat out and drown you!"

"I'll risk it," I replied. "I won't let him go if I have to go overboard with him. I am bound to land him in Washington if I have to go by water."

I tried sitting on him then, but he would not be sat down upon, and up he came again. Again we had it, dancing about in the slippery boat on a raging sea. It was a medley of waltz, two-step, polka, and galop, with a slimy silver king for a partner. He seemed to weigh a ton and to be ten feet tall. At last I got him down again and replaced one of the thwarts above him. I got out my knife, lifted up his immense gill cover and severed his heart.

The men were scooping out their fare of mullet, red-fish, and sea-trout. The large shark, a number of smaller ones, plenty of rays, and hundreds of other fish were still in the trap. Seeing a fine whip ray some four feet across and as spotted as a leopard, I shouted, "Captain, I want that whipparee!"

They soon gaffed him and deposited him on top of my tarpon. Then observing a huge sting ray, larger than the whip ray, I again called out: "Cap, gaff that big stingaree!"

"Not much," he answered.

"Yes," I continued, "I really want him; put him in my boat."

"You don't mean it. Why, he'll kill you."

"I'll risk it," I said; "haul him over in my boat."

"I'm afraid of him. His sting is six inches long!"

I prevailed on him finally, and after much careful management they hove it into my boat. "Look out for his sting!" cried Faulkner. "It's sure death!"

"'Fore God! Marse Doctor," said the negro, "I wouldn't stay in de boat wid dat debbil stingaree for a hundred acres in de promise' land!"

But I covered the sting, the dreaded weapon, with a piece of sailcloth and planted a foot on each side of it. The men then put their fare of marketable fish on the top of my specimens, which kept them in place, and then emptied the trap of the rest of the fish. "A Blue Norther"Strange to say, the large shark, at least ten feet long, was completely smothered under the mass of fish and had to be gaffed and hauled overboard by main strength. It was now dark, with two miles to row in the teeth of a blue norther. We arrived at the hotel pier nearly frozen.

"Captain Faulkner," said I, "it's ten dollars in your inside pocket if you get my fish up to Hunter's Point by morning to meet the Tampa fish steamer."

The wind lulled somewhat at midnight, when they started in the sailboat; but it took them until daylight to beat up the fifteen miles to Hunter's Point, where my specimens were put on ice with the market fish and taken on the steamer Mistletoe to Tampa.

The next day but one I went to Faulkner's shanty, by previous appointment, for another trip to the pound net. I found the Captain sitting by his stove in a sorry plight. His head and face were swathed in bandages and badly swollen.

"Why, Captain!" I exclaimed, "what's the matter? I want to go out to the net this afternoon."

"Matter enough," he replied ruefully. "I've been nearly dead with neuralgia from going out to the net day before yesterday. Look at my face! I wouldn't go to-day for all the fish in Sarasota Bay. You must be made of whit-leather or whalebone!"

Next morning the storm subsided and I returned to Tampa. At the fish house of Mr. Savarese, I found my specimens in fine condition in an immense icebox. We at once began to pack them for shipment to Washington. As the tarpon lay on the floor Mr. Savarese asked, "What will he weigh?"

"Well," I replied, "you may guess his weight, but I have had a GrÆco-Roman wrestling match with him and I know his weight to a pound."

Mr. Savarese then measured him with a tape line.

"Six feet and three inches," he announced, "and he will weigh one hundred and fifty pounds.""No," I rejoined, "not so much. He might weigh your figure in a few months with plenty of food and warmer water, but his present weight is one hundred and twenty-five pounds."

We put him on the scale, which he tipped at one hundred and twenty-four pounds.

The hundreds of thousands of visitors to the World's Fair who admired the graceful proportions of this tarpon, in the gelatin cast, painted in life colors, and hung in the Government building, little imagined the hardships and excitement attending its capture, or the subsequent swelled face of poor Captain Faulkner.