Note 1 — Chapter XXIX · Rod, Shotgun and Rifle

In Coron Passage during July, 1911, I fought a very large fish, probably a jewfish, for an hour and twenty minutes, at the end of which time his dead weight broke my line when Governor Forbes, who was with me, attempted to lift him by it after he had indulged in a prolonged sulk in deep water. Although I had fought him steadily, I could not see that I had tired him in the least. In the course of the fracas the butt of my rod had made a two by three inch black and blue spot on my right leg and had worn the skin off over a similar area on my left leg, while my abdomen lacked a good deal of epidermis and I was tempted to believe that it lacked some dermis as well. My companions who witnessed the fruitless fight christened this particular fish the “sea carabao.”1