It happened in Adelaide in those memorable days when all newcomers, who took refuge in Australia after the Second World War, had to pay the price for their freedom by working in factories or doing labouring work elsewhere no matter what their abilities or qualifications were.

One beautiful sunny day in early autumn there was not much work in the factory owing to the lack of material. So the foreman sent Pranas Batulis, a Lithuanian, Ivars Gulbis, a Latvian, Les Goodenough, a local boy, and Leo Niit, an Estonian, to rearrange some boxes in a remote corner of the factory's compound. Les Goodenough was put in charge of the trio of Baltic intellectuals and instructed by the foreman to make sure that these damned New Australians did a good job, instead of arguing with him about politics.

So the trio made off under the leadership of Les Goodenough.

"Now, boys, take it easy!" said Goodenough when the trio duly arrived at the spot. "Let us have a good rest first. These damned boxes can wait."

And he made himself comfortable on the grass.

The trio followed his example and settled down on the grass around him.

Ivar Gulbis offered everybody a cigarette and all of them endulged in the pleasure of smoking.

Due to some coincidence all of them felt hungry and it was only natural that their conversation began to revolve around food.

Such a turn to the conversation was originated by Pranas Batulis by his beginning to describe many delicious dishes he had on various occasions of his life. As he gave a particular attention to fish dishes, it happened that fish became the sole topic of their conversation.

It was a fascinating discussion. They spoke with animation of delicious pink salmon; of smoked fat eels; of French sardines in oil Provencal; of fried trout, soft and juicy; of fat and tender Scotch herrings; of Riga's and Tallinn's anchovies and Narva's lampreys; of stuffed pike a la Jue they liked in Kaunas; of fried or smoked silks, flounder and many other fish of the Baltic Sea and Baltic lakes and rivers. Les Goodenough took an enthusiastic part in the conversation and described, in his turn, the unique delight of an Australian dish called fish and chips.

From that exciting theme they went over to fishing. Les Goodenough was first to declare that he was a passionate fisherman and a very successful one at that. And like every great fisherman, he became very eager to let them know of his fishing exploits.

"Listen, chaps," he said, "to what happened to me once upon a time while fishing at the Murray River. Do you know, by the way, where the Murray River is?"

All three migrants knew it.

"Well," said Les Goodenough, "this is the biggest river in the world and there are very big fish in it. We call such fish 'big game'. You, chaps, have, I think, neither such a big river nor such big game in your countries. So, I was fishing one day on the bank of the Murray River. It was a good few years ago, before World War II. Well, I was fishing and suddenly I felt a mighty pull. Before I could even realise what was the matter, I fell into the water. Having still a firm grip on my rod, I was pulled into the middle of the river and then down its current towards the sea. "Tug as much as you like," I said to the fish, "I will stick to my rod and won't let you go." Well, I don't know what would have happened, if a motorboat hadn't been nearby. The people from the boat seized my hand and dragged me into the boat. Then we all together began a desperate struggle with the fish. But what a fish! When, at last, we got it into the boat, we saw that it was a real giant of sweet water: a Murray cod something about ten feet two and a half inches long. The whole of Australia acclaimed me for having caught such a monster. My picture was in every newspaper. Wasn't it a really big fish, my friends?"

"O yes, it really was an unusually big fish," Leo Niit said., "and I hope that it tasted well, too."

"I vaguely remember that I saw your picture and read your story even in Lithuanian newspapers," said Pranas Batulis. "Your catch was the talk of the day everywhere."

"You have reminded me of one of my own fishing adventures," said Ivars Gulbis. "Let me relate my story, too, before we start to shift boxes. It happened while I was fishing once upon a time at the Daugava River. Do you know, Les, where this river Daugava is?"

"Daugava River? Hm ... " said Les Goodenough. "I think it is somewhere in Europe, between Germany and Russia, from where you people have come. I have heard of it, of course, but not much."

"This river is in my native country Latvia," explained Ivars Gulbis, "near our capital Riga, I do not know exactly which river is bigger, Murray or Daugava. Perhaps Murray River is a little bigger, but Daugava is a mighty river, too."

"How broad is this river of yours?" asked Les Goodenough.

"O, it is quite broad," said Ivars Gulbis. "To cross the river on foot would take at least 25 minutes. On bicycle you would get to the opposite side much faster, of course."

Les Goodenough frowned wistfully.

"Then ... then it must be second to Murray River," he admitted. "Well, it might be so." agreed Ivars Gulbis.

"What? What did you say?" Les Goodenough exclaimed all of a sudden, lifting his eyebrows. "On foot? On bicycle? Over the river? Sounds like a good bit of nonsense!"

"I mean along the bridge," said Ivars Gulbis.

"Ah, bridge," said Goodenough. "Yes, if there is a bridge then it makes all the difference."

"Well, I was fishing on the bank of the River Daugava. It was not far from the mouth of the river. I stood a long time there without any success. Then suddenly something or somebody pulled my line from beneath the water with the strength of a horse. I fell at once into the water (just like yourself, Mr. Goodenough) and was immediately dragged to the middle of the river. In spite of such a dangerous situation, I didn't want to let the fish (or whatever it was on the hook) go, and continued to cling to my rod. Then a motorboat passed by. My troubles were noticed by the people in the boat and they threw a rope to me. I seized the end of the rope with one of my hands and continued to have a firm hold of my rod with the other hand. And what do you think had happened then? The fish was so powerful that it was able to drag not only myself along the river, but also the motorboat which was pulling in the opposite direction! So we moved along the river, a big fish under the water pulling me by my fishing rod and I dragging the motorboat behind me. Well, seeing that there was no help from the boat I let the end of the rope loose and let the boat go her own way. I again was alone with the fish which was pulling me with a great speed towards the mouth of the river. In such a way we soon passed the estuary and were in the open sea. And, believe me, I don't know how this adventure would have ended without help which unexpectedly arrived at the most appropriate time. While struggling desperately among the waves, I suddenly noticed an aeroplane flying low over the surface of the sea. It flew over me at such a low altitude that with my free hand I was able to take hold of its tail. As it thereafter immediately started to take height, I was soon out of the water and so was the fish. So I flew high in the air, hanging by one hand to the underneath of the tail of the aircraft and holding with my other hand the rod with its long line at the end of which a tremendous fish was hanging. In such a way I flew non-stop with my fish all the way from Riga in the North-Eastern Europe to New York in the U.S.A., which was the airplaine's destination. In the U.S.A. my arrival with that gigantic fish caused a good deal of sensation. Nobody there had seen such a big fish before. It was, I must say, a red salmon, about forty five feet nine and three quarter inches long. Have you ever seen such a big salmon, Mr. Goodenough?"

"I have seen even bigger salmon many times," said Les Goodenough. "But how did you come back from Yanky's land?" he added.

"I sold the fish to a museum and got enough money not only to return home, but even to make a world tour at first. While I was travelling around the world, I visited Australia, and I happened to be near the Murray River just at the time you were struggling with your big fish. It was a desperate struggle, indeed, Mr. Goodenough, and as to the size of the fish it really was a colossal one."

Les Goodenough looked uneasy. He got up trying to avoid everybody's eyes.

"We'd better do some work!" he said wearily.

Leo Niit saw that the boss was offended and wished to smooth his feelings. "Wait a little while, Les," he said. "These boxes can still await. I would like to tell a fishing story, too. A short one, as a matter of fact."

"Well," said Les Goodenough after a moment of hesitation. "It must be a reliable one."

He sat down and began to roll a cigarette.

"Yes, it will be a reliable one, at least as far as the size of the fish goes," Leo Niit reassured him. "Well then. Once upon a time I was fishing on the bank of the Pirita River near my native town of Tallinn. As I was already aware of your adventures, my friends Les Goodenough and Ivars Gulbis, I had lifebelt around my waist (so that I wouldn't drown while being pulled in the water by a big fish) and a parachute upon my back (so that I could land in case I, too, would have to deal with an airplane during my fishing action). Supplied in such a thorough way with the necessary gear, I patiently sat at the bank watching my float. Suddenly it sank indicating that a fish took the bait. I began to wind up the string and pulled the fish out. And what do you think, Les? How big was the fish I caught?"

"As big, I suppose, as a dreadnought," answered Les Goodenough grimly.

"No, it was much smaller," Leo Niit said. "As a matter of fact, it was a very small fish, not bigger than four inches."

"Such a little fish makes a poor story," remarked Les Goodenough.

"This little fish nevertheless had caused me a lot of trouble as you will see for yourself. Well, hardly had my little fish appeared upon the surface of the water as a dark shadow eclipsed the sun and I suddenly beheld a gigantic bird of an unusual appearance falling down like a meteor. It seized my fish by its terrible claws and ascended into the sky with the speed of thought. All this happened so quickly that I didn't even realise what was the matter before I was high above the earth hanging at the end of my rod to which I was convulsively clinging with both my hands. At the same time I quivered from horror and a wave of cold perspiration ran over my body, for I understood that it was not an earthborn bird, but one from some other planet. There was no doubt that it was now heading for its home-star. And I must say, by the way, that this monster of a bird flew with a speed incomparable to anything we can imagine. The speed of a bullet or a rocket or even sound was nothing in comparison to the speed of this mysterious bird. Because of its terrible speed I was unable to see clearly enough its shape while we were racing in space. I do not know how long we sped in such a manner in the nothingness of space before I suddenly noticed that it had become dark and the stars — one by one — had lit around me. They were, of course, much bigger and brighter than while being looked at from the Earth.

The moon had lit also, and it was so big and so near that I could clearly see everything on its rugged surface. Then I looked down and beheld with consternation that the Earth beneath me was already so far that it looked like a big globe only, shining in the darkness like a gigantic moon. It became unbearably cold. There was a lack of air, too, and I could hardly breathe. It was obvious to me that I had reached the end of my life. A few more minutes and there would be no air whatsoever. Realizing that it was either now or never, I let loose my hold of the rod. But heavens! Instead of beginning to fall down towards the Earth, I began speeding parallel to the Earth at the same altitude. I understood with horror that I was out of the Earth's gravitational force and that I would never come down.

While thinking so, I raced, being dragged by a mysterious power, in the cold darkness of the interplanetary space like a little satellite of the Earth. At the same time I felt that I was not the only artificial satellite rushing around the Earth. Some invisible bodies sped past me with infernal velocity, howling and rattling like devils pursued by their mothers-in-law. I realized that they could be those mysterious atomic rockets put up by the Americans or Russians into space to circle around the Earth. Suddenly a terrible bang resounded nearby and then a mighty glare, smoke and the heat of an explosion filled the space around me. "Two rockets had collided", raced through my mind. Being badly hit by the force of the explosion, I fainted. When I regained consciousness, I was falling like a stone towards 'the Earth. While falling, I realized that the force of the explosion had thrown me out of the. sphere of inter-gravitation into the sphere of the gravitational pull of the Earth. At the same time, I realized that I was going to live a short while only, for in a few minutes I would crash against the Earth and then nothing would remain of me. Yet, I was not supposed to die. Unexpectedly — it was at the height of the clouds — my parachute (which I forgot in my distress) opened. So, instead of falling down like a rock with frightening speed, I began to glide down slowly, and soon landed safely on the roof of the Negus Negisti's palace in Addis Ababa, deep in Africa. Now you have a good idea, my friends, how much trouble even a small fish can cause!"

"I see that only one person can compete with us as regards fish," said Pianas Batulis with a smile. "and this man is Jonah of the Bible. So let us establish an Australian Big Game Fishermen's Association with Jonah as a patron saint or an honorary chairman, and Les Goodenough as a president."

Les Goodenough laughed.

"It is impossible to tell lies to you boys! I will never tell you fishing stories again," he said. "And now, chaps, let's go back to the factory."

"But what about the boxes? We haven't touched even one of them!" said Pranas Batulis. "What will the foreman say?"

"Lie can stick these boxes into his arse," said Les Goodenough, and began moving in the direction of the factory.

Pranas Batulis, Ivars Gulbis and Leo Niit followed their superior.