Wreckfishes—Family Polyprionidae

Illustrations 1-3 from Pacific Coast Fishes, Peterson Field Guides, Eschmeyer/Herald/Hammann

Species: Stereolepis giga (Ayres, 1859); from the Greek words sterolepsis (firm scales) and gigas (giant).

Alternate Names: Commonly called black sea bass in our fair state although I like the more impressive names given by the French—bar gigantesque and barréan géant. At one time called Jewfish, California Jewfish and ocean hippos. Called mero pescada or pescara in Mexico.

Identification: Like many fish, the looks change with age, an all too common trait also common to “Pier Rats.” Adult fish are bass-shaped, heavy and robust. Colors are dark gray or dark brown with black spots on sides (that fade after removal from water), paler below. More spines than soft rays in dorsal fin; caudal fin slightly indented in adults.

Teenage fish are brownish to dusky.

Juvenile fish (to about 6 inches) are perch-shaped, bright red with black spots, and with very large pectoral fins.

A good description of the differences between juvenile and adult is given in California Fish and Game, Volume 6, Number 1, January, 1920. “One of the most picturesque fishes of Southern California, well known and appreciated by sportsmen and commercial fishermen alike, is the giant black sea-bass or California jewfish, Stereolepsis gigas Ayres. It is a common sight to see one of these huge fishes hung up by the jaw before fish markets and on pleasure piers, surrounded by wondering tourists. But although over a million pounds are landed yearly in the markets, the fish caught all range in size from about three to six feet in length. The commercial fishermen never admit having seen a jewfish less than one and a half or two feet in length, and all declare them to be dull black in color and without markings, as are the larger ones. Imagine our surprise then, when we discovered that certain pretty little bass-like fishes from the hails of the boat “Albacore” were the young of the jewfish! These resembled the huge, ugly adults neither in form, color, nor markings… the younger specimens are a rich brick-red in color and market with conspicuous dark brown or black spots irregularly scattered over back and sides. There are also white or pale yellow splashes here and there on the body, especially on the throat and ventral side of the tail. The vertical fins are black with conspicuous transparent edges, the ventrals black, and the pectorals pale or transparent. As the fish grows older the body color darkens and the spots become indistinct until the whole color is a uniform dark brown or dull black, except for the light patches on the throat and ventral surface of the tail, which often persist even in the larger adults. All the fins become black except the ventrals, which, though black in the young, are lighter than the pectorals in the adult, showing white membrane between the black fin rays.”

Size: Length to 7.4 feet and over 600 pounds. The California record weighed 563 lb 8 oz and was taken at Anacapa Island in 1968. Reaches an old age: a 7-foot fish found beached at San Clemente weighed 539 pounds and was about 60 years old; another fish, weighing 435 pounds, was 72-75 years old. Mature at age 11 to 13 years, 50-60 pounds.

428-Pound Giant Sea Bass taken at Catalina in 1906

Range: Gulf of California to Humboldt Bay, including Guadalupe Island. Uncommon north of Point Conception although once they were fairly common in Monterey Bay.

Habitat: Primarily bottom dwellers found in rocky areas, outside kelp beds, and along drop off areas. The young are common near shore. Depth varies from fairly shallow to 100 feet with the larger fish typically in deeper water. Their diet includes a myriad of fish species (especially small rays and skates) as well as crabs, lobster, mantis shrimp, squid, and octopus—basically almost anything that swims or scoots around the bottom where they’re hanging out.

Piers: There was a time in California when giant sea bass were a fish that was pursued by those filled with hope—and equipped with heavy tackle. Most oceanfront piers in SoCal reported at least a few of the giant sea bass each year.

Giant (Black) Sea Bass taken from the Coronado Pier — 1905

Shoreline: Rarely hooked by shore anglers.

Boats: Once a prize sought out by southern California anglers; Anacapa Island in particular was noted for really large giant sea bass. Now illegal to keep although increasing numbers are being reported hooked (and hopefully released) from boats.

384-Pound Giant (Black) Sea Bass taken by Franklin Schenck at Catalina in 1900

Bait and Tackle: Illegal to take.

Food Value: None since they’re illegal.

425-Pound Giant (Black) Sea Bass taken at Catalina

Comments: Though once fished to almost extinction, a fact that required a prohibition on take, they appear to be making a good comeback. Each year seems to see more and more fish hooked—and returned—from SoCal piers. The largest number appear to have been seen at the Oceanside, San Clemente and Goleta piers but almost every pier sees a few fish each year albeit most of these are young fish in the 30-60 pound range. We’ve seen several of these large giants slowly swim by, practically under our feet, while fishing from the Green Pleasure Pier in Catalina. The water is only about fifteen feet or so deep, crystal clear, and the sight never fails to amaze.

Small Giant (Black) Sea Bass from the Venice Pier

Although increasing in numbers, some studies still show the comeback to be taking longer than expected due in large part to toxins (especially DDE and PCB) that have been found in examined fish. The big fish spend much of their time near the bottom and many of the bottom lurkin’ species they eat contain toxins themselves. These toxins can affect everything from development of the larvae to normal reproductive behavior including (possibly) changing males into females (just say no Gabby/Gabrielle). It’s a tangled web we’ve spun in our local waters. Due to overfishing, they are currently illegal to keep in California.

Giant (Black) Sea Bass caught and released from the Paradise Cove Pier in 2008

J. Charles Davis, 2nd, California Salt Water Fishing, A.S. Barnes and Company, New York, 1949  

Picture and text from the author’s 1933 book — Giant Black Sea Bass

Perhaps one of the most underrated big game fish to be found in Pacific waters is the fish commonly, and quite incorrectly, called “jewfish” or the black sea bass.

To the fisherman who has taken the jewfish found in Florida and some other waters the name causes him to think of a huge grouper which has little to recommend it save vast bulk, so he shies away at the mention of it. For this he cannot be blamed but he misses some great sport by so doing.

The black sea bass of California is a true bass. Years ago when Dr. Charles Frederick Holder was pioneering big game fishing as a sport, he wrote of this fish that some considered a greater game fish than the tuna, although he went on record as saying he did not agree with this. In that he was right for, actually, there is no comparison. They are vastly different fish and it is unfair to compare them as it would be to compare a trout with an albacore. Both are great fish but they are not in the same class.

Picture a bass that weighs anywhere from a measly 100 pounds up to about 600 pounds, a bass that has all of the fighting heart of the bass family, and you have an idea of the sport in store for you when you hook one. Forgo your prejudice and take on this largest of the bass family and you will become a strong supporter of the merits of this all-too-little-appreciated fish.

Picture and text taken from the author’s 1949 book 

There are those anglers who do not like the kind of fishing needed for the catching of these big fish, and with them I have no quarrel. It is still fishing and seems slow to many who prefer to troll or to cast. It just so happens that the black sea bass is a bottom inhabitant of fairly deep waters and not always to be easily located. You have to seek out his haunts, rig for him and wait. You may be lucky and get a pick-up almost immediately and again you may go all day, or even several days, without any luck.

Your waiting will be well repaid, however, when your reel sings and you are hooked up. It is what good old Izaak Walton referred to when he wrote of “the contemplative man’s recreation,” a chance to sit and smoke, think and rest, to enjoy the quiet and peaceful life. Of course you need not spend your time awaiting the strike in idleness. You can have your big outfit rigged with the bait over, and then go to the light gear and catch smaller fish. It will not interfere with your chances of taking the bigger game.

Off Anacapa, a favorite spot for the big bass, you will find excellent whitefish grounds. The whitefish is a good bait for black sea bass, and I believe the reason so many of these fish have been taken there is because of the fact that whitefish are present in quantities. Whitefish are very game and furnish plenty of action and if they suddenly stop biting, your experienced fisherman knows this is a sure sign that the big fish are around. Nine times out of ten, it will only be a matter of minutes until your reel will give a warning sound, you’ll pick up your outfit and the battle will be on. It will be a fight that, even if you are using heavy tackle, will last an hour or more. No grouper here to haul in like a sunken log, but rather a fighting fish that won’t give up until thoroughly whipped and unable longer to continue.

It is not necessary to go to Anacapa to catch the big bass. They can be taken from barges and boats all along the coast from Anacapa southward into Mexican waters. I say Anacapa as the northerly limit because this is the known fishing ground. I believe they range much farther north but that remains to be proved when anglers seek them there. Around any of the islands is a good place to fish for them. We’ve taken them at Anacapa, Catalina, San Clemente and the Coronados; off Malibu and in Santa Monica Bay, out of San Pedro and Huntington Beach and off the Horseshoe Kelp as well as along the coast line down to San Diego. They like to be near shore, around rock piles, sunken wreckage and in or near great beds of sunken kelp.

It is my firm belief that a knowledge of the fish you seek is an important factor in the success of any trip. Giant black sea bass are true bass and have the same habits as their smaller relatives. They like kelp and rocks, they like live bait but, due to their huge bulk and consequent slowness, are not always able to catch it and so are forced to eat what they can get. The practice of anglers fishing for them with dead bait gave rise to the belief that they are scavengers and that was another thing against them. They will take dead bait, but prefer live, and if several people are fishing for them from the same boat and all but one are using dead bait the one with the live bait will get the first pick-up every time.

From barges, live bait boats and piers it is almost impossible to use whitefish or mackerel because your bait will swim about and tangle other lines and neither you nor the other fishermen will have any luck. If you have your own boat or charter a boat, you can fish for them properly with live bait.

If you do not have your own boat or do not feel like spending the money to charter one, you can still fish for them with a reasonable chance of success. Before the war when huge barges of 300 feet (and even more) in length dotted the coast line, each barge had what was known as a “jewfish platform.” This was simply an affair built out over the prow of the ship and it was reserved for “Jewfishermen.” No one else could fish there.

Legislation did away with the big barges and now only smaller ones may operate but they still have their quota of “jewfishermen” and they catch their share of fish. If you fish from one of these barges and hook a big bass, you will at once be transferred to the shore boat and can follow your fish and fight it with all the conveniences of a charter boat. It is not impossible to land a fish from a barge or anchored boat and we have repeatedly done so, but it is a lot more difficult and your chances of losing the big fish are far greater.

Let’s take the barge, pier or open boat fishing first.

You should have a heavy-tackle outfit with 9/0 reel, 500 yards of 24-thread line, cable leader of 15 feet equipped with a hook of anywhere from 9/0 to 12/0, belt socket, harness, and a lot of patience.

Attach your leader by means of the rawhide thong as described elsewhere, get a large mackerel and shove a sinker down its gullet, hook the mackerel through the lips and drop your outfit over. Allow the bait to sink to the bottom, reel up until your bait hangs about ten feet off the bottom or, if necessary, allow it to remain on the bottom. Put your reel in free spool and put on the click and wait. That’s where the patience comes in.

It is important that the reel be in free-spool because these bass are very suspicious and if they feel any drag on the line when they pick up the bait they will drop it and leave, never to return. The click gives warning of the pick-up and should be removed instantly when you get a strike.

Now fishing with a dead bait for the bass is a vastly different from fishing with live bait. The bass takes a dead bait very gingerly;n as a rule it will pick it up and move off very slowly a matter of only a few feet and drop the bait. Don’t do a thing. Wait. It may be a matter of several minutes before the bass again picks up the bait. This time it will go a little farther and again drop it. Wait. On the third pick-up get set and after the fish has taken a good run, allow it time for it to get the bait in its mouth, strike and the battle will be on. From there on it is up to you, and a matter of give and take with the bass doing most of the taking and you giving line because you have to. You can’t hold him but if there are kelp beds nearby, and there are sure to be, he’ll head for them and once in the kelp, you will probably lose your fish. If he does get buried in the kelp, wait it out. He may come out of his own accord and if you have 24-thread line you can probably come through this experience with no greater damage than increased blood pressure.

Stop him before he gets in the kelp if you can and when he wants to rest is the time to “pour it on” as the boys call it when you give him every thing your tackle will stand. You will have several runs, each probably a little shorter than the previous one as the big fish gradually weakens and, finally, if all goes well, you will whip him and have to start worrying about how you are ever going to get your catch home.

With live bait you use the same tackle, save that if you are an experienced fisherman you will probably elect to use light tackle. Many really big fish, better than 300 pounds, have been killed on light tackle. If you do break your fish off, there is no need to worry about the damage to the fish. Your pride and tackle will be all that will suffer. I’ve caught them with several old hooks in their jaws and even with pieces of leader wire hanging out of their mouths. There was an old whopper that became famous at Malibu as “Whiskers” because he had so many leaders in his jaw he looked like a catfish. He finally took one bait too many.

But let us get back to our live bait fishing. Once on the grounds you will fish with  light tackle for whitefish and mackerel and when you’ve caught your bait, put it on your big outfit and start fishing for the big fellows. You should have a sinker above your leader to hold the bait down at the desired depth; about 10 feet off the bottom. If you have been lucky enough to catch a whitefish your chances will be better and you won’t have to worry about putting on fresh bait every so often, for the whitefish is a hardy fish and will live all day, even after you have punctured its air bladder to keep it from coming to the surface.

The whitefish should be hooked on the under side back of the vent. This keeps it swimming right side up in a natural position. If using mackerel you can hook it the same way or through the nose, crosswise as you hook a sardine, or through the fleshy part back of the neck and ahead of the dorsal fin. Be careful not to hit the backbone.

Again you play a waiting game but when you get a strike this time there must be no waiting. The bass will grab the bait and start going places and you must strike and set the hook at once. The fight will be the same as previously outlined except that if you have a charter boat the skipper will lose no time in slipping the anchor and following your fish, a necessary maneuver, if you are using light tackle and a good idea even with heavy, unless you are one of those he-men type of anglers who like a good knock-down-and-drag-out fight. It’s a lot of fun but hard on tackle and has been responsible for losing many a fish.

Disposing of your catch presents a problem. several hundred pounds of fish is not something you laugh off. California law prohibits fish caught under a sport fishing license or from a sport fishing boat to be sold. You can take as many steaks as you can use and give the rest away if you happen to have enough friends to absorb a few hundred pounds of solid meat. Or you can do as one angler from Wisconsin did. When he first came to California, being an ardent bass fisherman, he went after the giant black sea bass as soon as he learned about them. He was lucky and caught one weighing around 250 pounds, had his picture taken with the catch and rushed it off to the fellows back at the club he belonged to in the days when they fished the lakes for bass.

In due time came back an acknowledgment but it was not what he had expected. Instead of paeans of praise for his prowess, here was an embossed scroll attesting that they had always thought he was a liar, but now they knew it, and hereby conferred upon him the title of World’s Champion Liar.

It did not strike him at all funny and the more he thought of it the madder he got. He determined to make them eat their words and so fished every day he could get away, determined to catch another one. In time success rewarded his efforts and this time it was a 400-pounder. He took it to a taxidermist to have it mounted. Now mounting a fish in those days went by the scale of $1.00 per pound and 400 pounds meant $400. This the taxidermist explained and suggested that, in view of the cost, he have only the head mounted.

“To hell with the cost,” boomed our fisherman. “Mount the fish and ship it to this address. I’ll show those so-and-so’s who is a liar!”

History failed to record just what the boys back at the bass club in Wisconsin did when that leviathan arrived.

Alas, the quest for giant black sea bass resulted in far too many being caught and eventually the fish was prohibited from capture. Today the fish are making a comeback, many are caught each year from piers and boats, and hopefully all are returned unharmed to the waters. Nevertheless, these old stories and the quest for the “giant” fish still bring excitement and thrill to what was and may become again some day a part of California fishing.

Totuava — San Felipe, Mexico — 1925

Today totuava are endangered and illegal to keep

Giant (Black) Sea Bass taken at Coronado in 1905

Today the number of Giant (Black) Sea Bass has decreased and they are illegal to keep

A 428-pound Giant (Black) Sea Bass taken at Catalina

White Sturgeon

In California today you have to release white sturgeon over 72-inches in length

Fish on the Santa Cruz Wharf in the early part of the 1900s — Giant (Black) Sea Bass, White Seabass, Salmon, etc.

                                       A Black Sea Bass from Catalina

By Charles Frederick Holder, 1891

It is said that when the purchase of the Northwest coast was contemplated by the United States Government, an old English raconteur and fly-fisherman remarked, “Oh, let the Yankees have it; the salmon won’t rise to a fly.”

Southern California might go by default in this way, as fly-fishing, compared with that of the East, is not to be had, though the San Gabriel, Aroyo Leco, and other canons have many pools where gleams of light and color flash, telling of the living rainbow lurking in the shadows. If southern California is deficient in black-bass streams and salmon pools, it possesses the finest marine fishing in North American waters; not only in the size and gamy qualities of the fish, but in the variety of forms which follow each other as the seasons advance, adding new and constant zest to the sport.

The striped-bass fishing has its prototype here in the gamy yellow-tail, seriola dorsalis, which attains a weight of forty or fifty pounds, and is as rapid in its movements as the tarpon. An important personage is he who lands a yellow-tail on an ordinary striped-bass rod, reel, and line. Equally gamy as the yellow-tail is the sea-bass, ranging up to sixty pounds, while the barracuda, tuna, albicore, and others afford the sport esteemed by blue fishermen in the East.

From the Santa Barbara Islands to the Coronados, and beyond, is the field of the southern California Walton; the islands of the Santa Barbara channel, particularly famous in the piscatorial annals and the Mecca of lovers of this sport – winter and summer. The island of Santa Catalina is the principal rallying-point, being the largest, possessing the small town of Avalon, a popular summer resort, with numerous bays and harbors protected from the in-shore wind that blows in beneath the steady trade. An ideal spot it is – a series of mountain ranges, from one thousand to twenty-six hundred feet, rising green-hued from the blue waters of the Pacific and extending twenty-two miles down the coast, and an equal distance from it. From the slopes of the Sierra Madre, forty miles away, the island appears formed of two lofty peaks, sloping gently to the sea; but standing upon its highest summit I looked down upon range after range, cutting the island into a maze of canons that wound in every direction to the sea. Near its northern portions two harbors extend in from opposite sides; the island evidently at one time having been separated, the isthmus, as it is called, being but a few hundred feet across; from this it widens out to six miles or more. The island seems in reality a gigantic mountain projecting from the ocean. The cliffs are majestic, beetling, rising sheer from the sea, broken into strange forms, and tinted with folds and splashes of color. The only beaches are at the mouths of the canons or perhaps where the continued falling of rocks in land-slides caused by the winds have formed a vantage-ground for waves. On the west coast the sea assails the cliffs with sullen roar, and the in-shore wind whirls up the canons, beating the fog against the rocks and bearing it aloft, where it is dissipated by the radiating heat of the mountains. On the east the water is calmer and often like glass, affording favorable conditions for boating and fishing.

The air of this island in the sea seems redolent with romance. Three hundred years ago Cabrillo, a Spanish adventurer, cast anchor in one of its harbors and named it La Victoria, after one of his vessels. In 1602 Viscaino visited and gave it the present name of Santa Catalina. Father Ascencion, who accompanied him, describes the inhabitants as sun worshippers, one of whose temples he found near the two harbors. In these early days the island had a large and prosperous native population; every well-watered canon had its village, and I have found evidences of them on some of the highest ranges.

One of my first visits to Santa Catalina was for the purpose of opening some of the ancient graves of these people, and while thinking the matter over with “Mexican Joe,” who has lived thirty years on the island, I took out an old bass-rod that had seen service on the St. Lawrence, and began looking it over.

“What you catch with that?” asked my companion, with a curious look on his strong Indian face.

“Bass, black,” I answered, nonchalantly, whirling the reel and listening to the music.

“What!” retorted Joe, laughing; the, “how much he weigh?”

“Five pounds,” thinking of a certain afternoon on the river.

“Oh! continued Joe, “I thought you mean black sea-bass.”

“Well, how much does he weigh?” I asked.

“How much he weigh? You want catch with that? said Joe, pointing to the rod with scorn. “Why, man, he weigh five hundred pounds. Yes, black sea-bass run from seventy-five to five hundred, seven hundred pounds.”

I ran over in my mind the various heavy-weight tackles — the tarpon, striped-bass, salmon rods, and came to the conclusion that a flag-staff with a donkey-engine reel attachment might do; yet decided, then and there, to take a black sea-bass, if it was among the possibilities. I announced my determination, interrogatively to my guide and oarsman.

“Of course you catch one if you know how. I show you where he live. It take patience, if you have it,” was the reply.

I was well supplied with this necessary, and a few days later found myself gliding away in the deep shadows of the rocks, headed for one of the haunts of the deep-sea bass. The water here was so clear, objects forty feet below could be distinctly seen, glances into the depths showing an almost tropical condition of things. Bright-hued fishes, yellow and orange, darted by, while patches of wiry sea-weed gleamed with blue and iridescent tints. In the watery space, fairy-like medusae moved lazily about, rising and falling, while here, there, and everywhere flashed a veritable gem in red, gold, blue, green, and amber, the minute crustacean sapphirina.

When off a point which juts boldly into the sea, the keeper of the fortunes of the black sea-bass ceased rowing, cast anchor, and we swung in the current that ran along the rocky shores to the north. The tackle produced by my oarsman was not aesthetic. The line was almost as large as that employed in the halibut fisheries of the East, while the hook was perhaps twice as large as a tarpon-hook, arranged with a well-working swivel. Live bait, a white fish which we soon caught, was attached, with a sinker sufficient to carry it down. The line was then dropped over, and that patient waiting, which makes all successful fishermen philosophers, begun.

Black Sea Bass taken from near the Hotel Del Coronado, San Diego

Three hundred — yes, one hundred years ago, a boat could not have dropped anchor here without being the object of hundreds of eyes, and the news would have been flashed from hill-top to canon to the various camps; now the only observers were the shag that flew along near the boat, its long, snake-like neck extended, startling the flying-fish into the air in fright, and a wondering pair of eyes that stared at us, telling of a sea-lion making the grand rounds; while the leaping forms near shore were seals, bound for their rookery around the bend. The whistle of the plumed quail ca,e softly over the crags from the neighboring canon, and the gentle musical ripple of the waves lulled us to fancied repose.

I had been watching the interesting face of my Mexican guide, wondering at his life, when I noticed his eyes suddenly grow large; then he lifted the line gently with thumb and forefinger. It trembled, thrilled like the string of a musical instrument touched by some player beneath the sea. Slowly it took his fingers down to the water’s edge.

A bass? Yes. No snap, no sudden rush, no determined break for liberty as I had seen the black bass make. I was disappointed; a simple drag. But the Mexican smiled and passed me the line, arranging with the other hand the coil in the bottom of the boat.

“He’s a young one,” he remarked. “Pay him out ten feet, then jerk an’ stan’ clear the line.

These instructions took but a few seconds, yet the line was now gliding through my hands like a living thing – four, eight, ten feet. Suddenly it tautened, and for a single second the tension hurled the sparkling drops high in the air; then, leaning forward, I jerked the line with all my strength. I have watched the silvery form of the tarpon as, like a gleam of light, it rushed into the air, shaking, quivering before the fall, and have handled large fish of many kinds, but I was unprepared for the deep-water tactics of this king of the bass. For a brief period there was no response, as if the fish had been stricken with surprise at this new sensation; then a smoke, a succession of snake-like forms rising into the air – nothing but the line leaping from its coil. ” Ah, he only a young one, said Joe; take hold.”

In some way I had lost the line in this rush. Watching my opportunity, I seized it again, and by an effort that thoroughly tested the muscles, brought the fierce rush to an end. Then came heavy blows distinctly given, as from the shoulder, evidently produced as the fish threw its head back in quick succession.

“Take it in!” said my companion, excitedly and bending to the work I brought the line in, fighting for every inch that came; when the Mexican shouted a warning. Whizz! and the coils leaped again into the air. Nothing could withstand the rush – a header directly for the bottom and away.

The anchor had been hauled up by the Mexican at the first strike, and now, with line in hand, we were off, the boat churning through the water, hurling the spray over us, and bearing waves of gleaming foam ahead.

“Take in! cries Joe, who stands by the coil, and again, slowly fighting against the dull blows, the line comes in. Ten feet gained, and, whizz-eee! as many more are lost. In it comes once more, hand over hand, the holder of the line bending this way and that, trying to preserve a balance and that tension which would prevent a sudden break. Now the fish darts to one side, tearing the water into foam, leaving a sheet of silvery bubbles, and swinging the boat around as on a pivot. Now it is at the surface – a fleeting vision followed by a rush that carries the very gunwale under water. This, followed by a sudden slacking of the line, sends despair to the heart; he is gone, the line floats. No, whizz! and away again, down. All the tricks of the sturdy black bass this giant of the tribe indulges in, except the mid-air leaps which gladden the heart of the angler. Quick turns, downward rushes, powerful blows, mighty runs this gamy creature makes, fighting inch by inch, leaving an impression upon the mind of the fisherman that is not soon forgotten.

With a large rope, and by taking turns, the fish could have been mastered, but such methods were not considered sportsman-like here. It must be taken free-handed, a fight at arm’s-length, and being such, the moments fly by; it is half an hour, and we have not yet seen the outline of our game. Gradually the rushes grow less, the blows are lighter, and what is taken is all gain.

“It take your wind,” said Joe, with a low laugh.

So it had, and I stood braced against the gunwale after a final dash-a burst of speed-to see a magnificent fish, black, lowering, with just a soupcon of white beneath, pass swiftly across the line of vision, whirling the boat around end for end.

“You’ve got him,” from astern, is encouraging; yet I have my doubts; an honest opinion would have brought the confession that I was in the toils. But the flurry was the last. Several sweeps around the boat, and the black sea-bass lay alongside, covering boat and men with flying spray with strokes of its powerful tail.

“It is a small one,” ejaculates my man, wiping the spray from his face. Imagine a small-mouthed black bass enlarged, filled out in every direction until it was six feet long, and plump in proportion; tint it in rich dark lines, almost black, with a lighter spot between the pectoral fins; give it a pair of eyes as large as an ox, powerful fins and tail, a massive head, ponderous, toothless jaws, and you have the black sea-bass, or Jew fish – the best fighter, the largest bony deep-sea fish in Pacific waters. Too large to be taken into the boat, it had to be towed in, and finally, after being stunned with an axe after the quieting method applied to muskallonge in the St. Lawrence, we got underway, the huge body floating uncomfortably behind, materially retarding the progress.

The entry to Avalon harbor was one of triumph, as at that time the capture of a bass was a new thing to visitors; and as the magnificent creature was hauled up on the sands by willing hands, the entire population gathered about to listen to the details of the sport. Then came the weighing. “Three hundred and forty-two and a half, sir,” said a Mexican youth who had triced the fish up; “better than average.” Glory enough for one day.

During this summer, at Catalina, about twenty of these fish were caught, ranging from eighty pounds to three hundred and fifty. All were females, ready to spawn, and had come in to Pebble Beach for this purpose, depositing their eggs in August and September. This locality has always been a famous place for them, and ten thousand pounds were taken there in a single day four years ago. At that time there was a systematic fishery, the meat being dried and – tell it not in Gath! sold as boneless cod. My oarsman informed me that the bass had been frightened off. These fishermen killed the fish on the spot, throwing the heads overboard, and so the bass left, only comparatively few having been seen since.

This is a native version. The fish undoubtedly migrate, going into deeper water during the winter, or possibly to the south.

It is often said that there is little pleasure in taking deep-sea fish; but to capture the black sea-bass, free-handed, play it fairly, and bring it to the gaff, is an experience that well compares in sport and excitement with hand-line tarpon fishing on the Gulf coast.