That big eye and plump body tell the story: Blackfin tuna have keen vision to select prey, but feed with abandon at times.

Anglers jockeyed for position, bumping into each other and stepping on each other’s feet. Lines snapped and reels screamed. Conversations turned to cavemen grunts and yells as the hookups continued. During all this confusion, I took time out to ransack my tackle box, wherein lay 20 artificial lures which I had hoped to field-test amidst frenzied blackfin tuna. With unsteady hands, I snatched up the heaviest plug in the box and tied it to 50-pound monofilament leader and 20-pound fishing line. I knew that these tuna would smack a chunk of cutbait in a New York second, but would they crash an artificial surface lure?

It took only one cast to answer that question.

Hungry, aggressive blackfins and bonito churned the water around us. They were agitated into a violent feeding spree by the handfuls of bonito chunks, sardines, cigar minnows and ballyhoo that we tossed overboard. Dropping a baited hook was an automatic hookup. But the big mystery for me was: Which would reach the lure first, a blackfin or a bonito?

Sailing above the ocean surface like a high-soaring flyingfish, the heavy Windcheater surface plug put plenty of distance between me and the farthest surface activity, but I sensed that some larger blackfins might be lurking along the outskirts of the action. This plug and this method had worked for me on Gulf Stream trips for big yellowfin tuna, but would it work on their smaller cousins, the blackfins? The instant the big lure hit the crest of a wave with a splash, I began reeling as fast as I possibly could, chugging the plug along the surface and trying to create as much commotion as possible. It traveled only a few feet before a big blackfin nailed it with authority.

The fish struck with such force that I really did not have to set the hook. However, my reflexes took over and I reared back on the rod, thrilled by the sound of line singing from the reel. As the strong fish continued its run, I wondered if perhaps I had hooked a wahoo. I passed the rod to Capt. Doug Unruh of Juneau, Alaska, who was standing next to me.

“Here, Doug, take this one; it’s a good one.”

Unruh had taken my son Bob and me fishing in Alaska and had put us on some big halibut and hefty king and coho salmon; I wanted to treat him to some good Florida fishing. Little did I suspect that this bruiser blackfin would not only test my friend, but would also test the light equipment we were using. Early into the battle, the tuna fought with such force that the bail came off the reel. Doug had to pop it back into place, without a screw. He was in for an hour-long struggle.

Meanwhile, my fishing pal from Orlando, Capt. Ward Michaels, who likes to tackle big sailfish on a fly rod, sensed the challenge. A nice tuna had just cut him off after taking his cutbait.

“Can I use one of your lures?” Ward asked.

“Help yourself,” I said, digging into the box for another topwater plug. I knew that Ward was in for a real contest because he was busy tying another Windcheater to 12-pound line and 30-pound mono leader, tackle even lighter than Unruh’s.

A big blackfin crashed Ward’s plug immediately. Now we had two battles going on as tunas in the 20- to 30-pound class fought with tackle-straining tugs. Each time the anglers got their fish up, the blackfins would see the boat and streak like torpedoes out to sea, turning their bodies sideways and pumping with their powerful tails.