H. De Vere Stacpoole

H. De Vere Stacpoole

Black Bass (1916)

Summary

Portrait of H. De Vere Stacpoole H. De Vere Stacpoole Black Bass (1916)

Politics, trade, cotton, or railway stocks may be mentioned casually, but the one serious thought occupying all men's minds—the idea dominating all other ideas—is fish.
They turned Bonito Point, clearing the southern end of the island, and there, twenty miles away across the blue, blue sea, lay the island of San Clemente, like a dream of the golden morning, and beyond San Clemente the Pacific, a sheet of azure stretching right to the coast of Japan.
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of H. De Vere Stacpoole H. De Vere Stacpoole Black Bass (1916)

The tuna grounds lie to the south-east, and, working round the south of the island, you strike the haunts of the barracuda, swordfish, sunfish and the great kelp beds where hide the black sea-bass. You find yellow-tail near these kelp beds, too, and whitefish by chance.
The Colonel had brought his breakfast with him—sandwiches and a Thermos flask of coffee—and as the yawl, with full way upon her, turned due south, he ate his sandwiches and chatted with Joe on the subject of fish.
There is no other subject at Avalon.
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of H. De Vere Stacpoole H. De Vere Stacpoole Black Bass (1916)

Avalon, with the Stars and Stripes waving above the Presidio, looked like a toy village, and far away across the blue morning sea a freighter in ballast showed the foam , of her propeller, the faint thud-thud of which came like the beating of a pulse through the voices of the morning.
"There's the Pinckney yawl gettin' ready, and there's Pinckney himself puttin' off," said Joe, who was shading his eyes and looking shoreward. "He's not always so early out, and he's got Bill Robbins for a gaffer, and he's got a blame fool.
Source: Wikisource

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