"I say, Bracebridge, we must try our new rod before we break up," said
Ellis, one Saturday, just before the boys were going in to dinner.
"It's a capital afternoon for fishing, cloudy and soft. I'll see about
bait if you will promise to come. Buttar and Bouldon say they will, and
so will Gregson; so we shall be a jolly party, and shall gain something
even if we don't catch fish." Ernest, who always appeared to have more
spare time than any one else, consented to go, provided he had
half-an-hour's reading after dinner, to get up some work. Ellis had
learned to be almost as eager as his friend in anything he was about.
He now hurried off to send Jim, a lame boy, who was allowed to go on
errands for the young gentlemen, to prepare the baits for the
fishing-party. They all assembled at the appointed hour, with capital
rods in hand, with the exception of Gregson, who declared that he always
made his own rods, and that his, though uncouth in appearance, would
catch as many fish as all the rest put together. The young fishermen
had very little excuse for not catching fish. There was a large pond,
about two miles off, with a clear full stream running into it. In the
stream were trout, grayling, roach, and dace, and the pond was full of
fine carp, and tench, and perch, while occasionally the other fish from
the stream condescended to swim into it. The fishing belonged to a
gentleman in the neighbourhood, who took a great interest in the Doctor
and his school, and always allowed a dozen boys at a time to fish there.
They had to go to the Doctor or one of the masters for leave, and as
seldom more than a dozen wished to go at a time, it was not often that
any were disappointed. Off they set, with their fishing-rods over their
shoulders, singing away as merrily as crickets. There were one or two
ponds and streams in the way, where they proposed to try their fortune
for a few minutes, as it was reported that sometimes very fine fish were
caught in them. The first they came to was a quiet dark pond, shaded by
trees. Gregson declared that he thought it must be full of fish, and he
was considered an authority on such matters. Ellis, who knew also a
good deal about fishing, rather doubted that such was the case.
"Come and try," said Gregson; "there is no great harm in doing that, at
all events." Gregson prevailed, and no one perceived a quiet chuckle in
the tone of his voice. He persuaded them all to fish with very small
hooks and red worms, which he gave them. They had not fished long
before Bouldon exclaimed, "I've a bite, I've a bite!" His float began
to bob; down it went, and up he whisked his rod. "A fine fish," he
cried out; "but, hillo, it has legs--four legs, I declare! Why, it's a
monster; a terrible monster. Hillo! Ellis, Gregson, Buttar, come and
help me. Will it bite, I wonder?" Gregson ran laughing up to Bouldon
to see what was the matter.
"Why, it is a water-newt!" he exclaimed. "A harmless, curious little
creature--there, don't hurt it! It has not swallowed the hook. I'll
put it into my basket and take it home. It will live in a tub of water
for a long time. Look! it is something like a lizard, but it has a flat
tail made for swimming. What curious little feet and legs! Now, though
the newt has four legs, it lays eggs; and to guard them from injury,
wraps them up in the leaves of water plants, with its four paws. When
the young newt is hatched, it is very like a tadpole. It is like a
fish, for it breathes through gills; but as it increases in size the
gills go away and the front legs appear, and then the hind ones. In a
frog-tadpole the hind legs appear first, and then the front ones."
"Curious sort of fellows," observed Tom Bouldon, who had been listening
attentively to Gregson's account; "but, I say, I thought fellows, when
they grew bigger, took to gills instead of throwing them aside."
"Oh! Tommy, Tommy, what a pun!" was the general cry.
"What a good pun, or what a bad one?" asked Bouldon with perfect
simplicity. "But, I say, Gregson, are there any other fish but your
friends, the newts, in this pond, do you think? because if there are
not, I vote we move on."
"I never heard of any; but I wanted a newt, and so I proposed that we
should fish here."
On hearing this, there was a general proposal that he should be left
behind to catch newts by himself; but he promised faithfully to show
them where the best fish were to be caught, if they would forgive him.
On these conditions he very easily obtained pardon for his trick.
"I say, did you ever catch a fresh-water lobster?" asked Gregson. No
one had, and no one believed that there was such a thing. "I'll soon
show you one," said Gregson; and when they came to a shallow stream with
highish banks, pulled off his shoes and stockings, tucked up the sleeves
of his shirt and the legs of his trousers, and was soon busy feeling
under the banks, just below water.
"Why, he has got one; he has indeed!" shouted Bouldon, as Gregson
produced, by the antennae, a crayfish, which, to prevent himself from
being bitten, he caught by the back; its claws, though they stretched
wide open, as if they had the cramp very badly, being utterly harmless.
"This is a Crustacea," cried Gregson, holding him up in pride; "and if
not a lobster, it may well be called one. I have often caught two or
three dozens of them, and found them capital for tea or breakfast. In
my opinion, if a person has his senses about him, and will but study
natural history, he would be able to live entirely on the herbs and
fruits of the field, the birds of the air, and the animals of the earth
and water."
"Ho, ho! a pretty sort of existence that would be!" exclaimed Bouldon.
"I suppose you would have us to eat grass, like sheep or cows, or
snails, or vermin, or tadpoles."
"No, no! Tom, but I will undertake to place a capital dinner before
you; and, except the trouble of catching the animals, it shall cost
nothing beyond a halfpenny, which I will expend in mustard and pepper.
I cannot grow the pepper, so I shall buy a farthing's-worth of that and
a farthing's-worth of mustard seed, which I would grow, and could then
give you mustard to eat, and also a salad."
"What would you do for salt?" asked Buttar.
"I would make that very quickly by the seaside. A few pails of
salt-water thrown into any clean hollow of a rock would soon evaporate
and leave some excellent salt," answered Gregson. "Then I would give
you several sorts of fish, and crayfish, and, if I can get to the sea,
fish of all sorts, and lobsters, and crabs, and shrimps, and oysters,
and every variety of shell-fish, and sea-weeds also, some of which are
excellent and very nutritious; but I can do very well without going to
the sea. Of animals in England there are not many; but I can snare
rabbits, and so I could hares, but that would be poaching, and therefore
I cannot give you hares; but you shall have all sorts of birds--larks,
and blackbirds, and sparrows, and young rooks, and wildfowl, and many
others; and then there is no end of vegetables. Nettle-tops, when well
boiled, are excellent, and so are a number of other plants which are
looked upon as weeds; and you have no idea of the number of roots which
grow in the fields, and hedges, and hill-sides, which are fit to eat.
Then, to give flavour to our birds and rabbits, I can find mushrooms in
abundance, and, indeed, several flavoury seeds and roots. While I think
of it, I can do without pepper; we have some native pepper. I can make
several teas which have a very nice taste, and I can produce very fair
coffee from the root of the dandelion. If I was in Canada, I could
manufacture excellent sugar from the maple-tree. Here I could make it
out of beetroot, but it would be troublesome. I can give you as a
dessert some delicious strawberries, and raspberries, and filberts, and
I could get plenty of chestnuts, and no one would accuse me of stealing
them; indeed, with a little consideration and trouble, I could place
before you a first, second, and third course, which ought to satisfy the
taste of the most fastidious. For my own part, I do not object to
frog's legs and snails; and if I was hungry, and could get nothing else,
I would eat a snake without hesitation; but I do not ask others to
entertain my views."
"Oh, oh! Greggy, you cannibal! you would eat grubs and caterpillars, I
suppose? Why, you are no better than an Australian savage," exclaimed
Bouldon, with a look of ineffable disgust.
"That is the worst of you, Gregson, you go into extremes," observed
Ernest. "We tried once, at home, for curiosity's sake, just the dinner
you describe, and a very good dinner we had, though it was more suited
to a Frenchman's than an Englishman's taste. My father says that if
people studied the subject, many more things would be found fit for food
than are now used. For instance, if two people were cast on shore on an
uninhabited island, or were travelling through the wilds of America or
Australia, one might starve from ignorance of what was fit to eat, while
the other, from having a thorough knowledge of botany and natural
history generally might find an abundant supply of nutritious food.
When fruits are not in season, there are nearly always roots to be found
under ground, and various herbs, and even the leaves, and gum, and stems
or bark of trees. The inhabitants of Terra del Fuego live on mushrooms
which are found growing on the stems of the evergreen beech; indeed, I
might multiply instances without end. The naturalist not only knows
that such things exist, but, from having studied their habits, knows
exactly where to look for them. I have often read of poor fellows
starving in the midst of plenty, simply from their ignorance that food
was close around them. Others have been afraid to eat what they found
for fear of being poisoned. I tell you what, Greggy, I think that you
are perfectly right, only you should take care not to disgust people by
talking of being ready to eat things for which they may have an
antipathy. We know that locusts, and sea-slugs, and bird? nests, are
considered great delicacies in some countries, and so are dogs by
several people, and really I do not see why a dog should not be as
delicate as a pig."
"Well! I declare that it is next door to cannibalism to eat a dog,
man's faithful friend and protector," cried Buttar, who was more of a
sportsman than any of the rest of the party. "I would sooner starve
than eat my old dog, Ponto."
"I am not at all an advocate for the practice of dog eating," said
Ernest. "But I do argue that civilised and educated people, as we
profess to be, should obtain a far greater knowledge of the productions
of the earth than we possess." Gregson was glad to find himself so well
supported, and the rest finally agreed that they would get books and try
and pick up some knowledge on the subject.
"Books are all very well, and very important indeed; but they alone
won't do; you must study and examine for yourselves. Books will, by
themselves, never give you a practical knowledge of natural history."
This conversation lasted till the merry party arrived at the stream
where they proposed to fish. They all set to work, each in his own way.
Ernest was the only fly-fisher of the party. There was a light breeze
which just rippled some of the deep pools in the stream, and as he
walked up it, passing his companions one after the other, he seldom
passed ten minutes without getting a rise and catching a fish.
"Hillo, Gregson," said Bouldon; "I thought you, with your stick, were
going to catch more than any of us. There's Bracebridge far ahead of
you already; you'll be beaten, old fellow."
"Wait a bit," answered Gregson quietly. "My fish have not begun to bite
yet. I am thinking of trying the pond for an hour or so. I
ground-baited it as I came by, and I have no doubt I shall catch
something." Bouldon, who was the worst fisherman of the party, in
consequence chiefly of his want of patience, accompanied Gregson in the
hopes that he might benefit by the ground-bait.
"What is it you put in?" he asked. The young naturalist showed him some
balls which looked like balls of clay with some red seams, but they were
composed of clay and bran, and gentles, and red worms, and one or two
other ingredients, which Gregson averred would attract all sorts of
fish. "You must not interfere with my sport, but you shall have a spot
to yourself; and I'll answer for it before long that you will have
plenty." Gregson himself, as he spoke, threw in his line, and as Tom
looked on, caught several perch and roach in rapid succession.
"Oh, I can't stand that; I must go and see what I can do," exclaimed
Bouldon, moving on.
"Very well, just go a little on this side of that willow," said Gregson;
"you will find a deepish hole there. Throw in your ground-bait, and
before long you are very likely to get some bites. See; I've caught
another. What a whacking big perch! Three pounds' weight, I should
say. I'll have him out soon; don't stay for me, I can tackle him."
This success of Gregson's made Bouldon still more anxious to be off to
try and catch some fish. Hitherto he had got nothing. Having thrown in
all the ground-bait he had got, he baited his hook with the full
expectation of catching a basket-full. He cast in his line and stood
patiently watching his float. It would not bob. He altered the depth
of the hook several times; the worm wriggled, as at first, untouched.
He began to grow very impatient.
"This will never do," he muttered; "I must shift my ground till I find
the fish more inclined to be caught." He looked round towards Gregson,
who was pulling up fish as fast as he could. "His basket must be
already nearly full, and I have not caught even a wretched gudgeon."
On this Tom went round the pond, throwing in his line here and there
with the same want of success. At last he got a bite; "A big fish," he
thought to himself. "I'm sure it is; hurra! perhaps my one fish may
weigh as much as all Gregson's and Bracebridge's together." He hooked
his fish, which after one or two tugs, poked his nose to the surface
just to see who was at the other end of the line, which somehow or other
had got hold of his lips.
"A grand, magnificent pike!" shouted Tom with delight, letting go his
reel as the fish began to pull, and darted off into the centre of the
pond. Bouldon stood ready to turn him as soon as he began to slacken
his pace. Never had he felt so eager about catching a fish, for never
had he held a bigger one at the end of his line. It would have been
better for him had it been much smaller. There was a quantity of weeds
in the pond; and numerous large flat leaves of the beautiful white
water-lily floating near, moored to long tough stems, among which he was
in a dreadful fright that the fish would get, when he felt sure it would
contrive to carry line and hook and float away. The pike, if pike it
was, seemed fully aware of the advantage it possessed, and darted about
in every direction.
"The hook must have caught the very edge of the upper lip, or it would
have bitten through my line long ago," thought Tom. "What can I do? I
wish Gregson were here to help me. He would know some dodge to get this
fellow on shore. I'm sure I don't. Hillo! Greggy! Ellis! Do come
and help me. Any of you fellows there?" He dared not for a moment turn
his eye away from the water, lest the fish should take the opportunity
of getting off.
"Hillo! does no one hear? Hillo, I say! Come, my good fellows, lend a
hand to land this monster!" No one answered. The fish had run out with
the whole of his line; the rod was bending almost double. He advanced
to the very edge of the pond; he thought that he might give a little
more scope by going to the right hand, where there was what he supposed
to be a projection of the bank. So there was, but it was only of grass,
and had nothing under it. He put his foot on it; the fish pulled harder
than ever; he never dreamed of letting go his rod, and over he went, the
impetus of his fall, and the pulling of the fish, carrying him a
considerable distance from the shore. His head went under water, and he
got a good quantity of it in his mouth; but at last he came up to the
surface, spluttering and blowing, and trying to strike out, but still,
like a true Briton, keeping fast hold of his rod. He now shouted out
with all his might, his shout becoming a sharp cry for help, for he felt
very truly that life was in imminent danger. The water was deep; he had
thick heavy shoes and trousers on, and he could not make up his mind to
lose his rod. For some time he positively swam away from the shore, not
knowing what he was about, but fortunately at last he found out what he
was doing, and tried to get back. His heart sank within him when he
found how far off he was from the land. His clothes were pressing him
down, and the long slimy stems of the weeds began to twist and turn
round his legs. "Oh, I shall be drowned--I shall be drowned!" he cried
out in an agony of fear. "Help--help!--help, oh help!" he shouted,
struggling to keep himself above water. His eye looked on either side
of the pond. He saw some one approaching the spot where he had stood,
but coming leisurely, and evidently not aware that he had tumbled into
the water. "Help, help;" he again shouted, and he felt that in another
minute he must go down, for the more he attempted to approach the shore,
the more his legs became entangled by the fatal weeds. He thought that
he recognised the gaunt figure of Ellis.
"Oh, if it had been Bracebridge now! he swims so well, he might have got
me out," he thought to himself; but he had very little confidence that
Ellis would help him. Just then his last cry must have reached the ear
of the person approaching, for he set off running towards the spot as
fast as his legs would carry him. Bouldon began to hope once more that
he might be saved. Then he saw that it was Ellis.
"Keep up, keep up!" shouted Ellis; "I'll be with you." He disencumbered
himself of his basket as he ran, and the moment he reached the spot he
threw off his shoes and his jacket, and, rod in hand, having broken off
the hook from his line, plunged into the water without an instant's
hesitation. All the time, however, he shouted, "Help! help! help!" He
swam out bravely towards Bouldon, poking his rod before him till the end
reached his struggling school-fellow. "Catch hold of this--catch hold
of this!" he sang out lustily. Bouldon heard him, but his senses were
becoming confused, and he could not exert himself to reach the point of
the rod. Ellis swam on still further, but he saw the weeds, and he knew
that, should his legs once become entangled in them, he should be unable
to help his friend, and should probably lose his own life.
"Oh! come nearer, come nearer!" gasped out poor Bouldon, making vain
efforts to get free.
Ellis, against his better judgment, generously made the attempt. He
instantly felt that he, too, was among the weeds. He tried to get back.
His only consolation was to see that Tom had got hold of the end of his
rod. Ellis exerted himself to the utmost. Move forward he dared not;
but throwing himself on his back, he lifted up his legs, and endeavoured
to disentangle them from the weeds which were round them. At last he
felt that he could strike out with them; and paddling with one hand at
the same time, he gently pulled on his rod, so as to tow Bouldon towards
him. The weeds had, however, got so completely round poor Tom's legs,
that Ellis found that he was not moving him.
"I'm sinking, I'm sinking!" Tom cried out.
Ellis struck away with all his might. "Hold on to the rod, whatever
happens, that's all," he cried out, tugging and tugging away. "I'm
moving you, I'm moving you!"
So he was, but it was only so far as the weeds would allow him to go.
Tom had followed his example, and thrown himself on his back. Just then
a shout was heard, and soon afterwards Ellis caught the words he had
been himself using, "Keep up, keep up!--never fear!" He thought it was
Bracebridge's voice; so it was. He was up to them in an instant.
Now, Bracebridge, by his father's advice, never went out on any
expedition without a supply of stout twine. Producing some from his
fishing-basket, he fastened one end of it to a drooping branch of the
willow-tree, which overhung the pond, and the other on to his own rod,
and, having thrown off his clothes, he boldly plunged into the water,
knowing that the weeds would have much less power over his naked legs,
than if he had kept on his trousers. He reached poor Tom with the end
of his rod just as he was sinking. Tom grasped it convulsively, and
Ernest holding on to the part of the line made fast to the tree had
sufficient force to drag him out from among the weeds. Ernest,
meantime, told Ellis to try and get to shore, so as to be able to help
him to draw in Bouldon. Ellis was not long in doing so; and climbing up
the bank, he hauled in the line Ernest had so thoughtfully made fast to
the tree. In a short time, by careful pulling, Bouldon was hauled clear
of the weeds, and Ernest was able to take hold of his arm, and to
support him while Ellis towed them both up to the bank. By this time
Bouldon was unconscious, but, notwithstanding, he still with one hand
held fast hold of the butt-end of his rod, and the rod had evidently
something else at the other end of it. They drew him up the bank still
holding on his rod.
The change of atmosphere from the warm water of the pond, perhaps, to
the cooler air, revived him, and opening his eyes he looked up at
Bracebridge.
"You, Ernest! I thought it was Ellis. Is he safe?"
"Yes, yes; all right, old fellow!" answered Ellis.
"Oh, thank you, thank you! Then do try and get my fish on shore," were
the first words exchanged between the party when they had got safe to
land.
"It's a whacking big pike, that I know," cried Tom. "Oh! Bracebridge,
don't let him go; that's all."
"I only hope no stranger will come near and find me, like a picture in
the `Boy's Own Book,' fishing _in statu quo_," said Ernest, laughing,
"But quick, Ellis, bring the landing-net; I shall have him directly, I
believe."
There was a broad laugh as Ellis put the net under the fish--for fish
there undoubtedly was. "Why, Tommy, your big pike has turned into a
perch after all," cried Ernest; "a good-sized one though. But how did
you come to fancy it a pike?"
"Because he pulled so horribly; and when I saw his big jaws above water,
I thought nothing but a pike could possess such a pair of gills,"
answered Tom, with much simplicity.
Ernest and Ellis laughed heartily at Bouldon's pike. Ellis took off his
clothes, and wrung them dry, and assisted Tom, who was getting rapidly
well, to do the same; and while Ernest put on some of his garments, he
lent the remainder to clothe his companions, while theirs were drying.
They very quickly got their fishing gear to rights again, and were soon,
as eager as before, engaged in their sport.
The disturbance they had made in the water had not frightened away the
fish, and they each of them caught several large perch. When they at
last got their clothes dry enough to put on, and worked their way up to
where Gregson was fishing, they found that he had actually filled his
basket completely full; fulfilling his promise that with his old stick,
as he called it, he would catch more fish than all the rest put
together. He bought his hooks, though he could make them; but the rod,
line, and float he had entirely manufactured himself, as he had all the
rest of the gear, and thus he certainly had reason to be proud of his
achievements.
He was horrified when he heard how nearly two of his companions had lost
their lives, while all the time he had been so close at hand. When,
however, they were joined by Lemon and Buttar, and Bouldon described the
way Ellis had come to his rescue, everybody was loud in their praises of
him except Ernest. He said nothing at the time, but as they were
walking home, he took Ellis's hand, and pressing it warmly, remarked,
"You have behaved very gallantly to-day, my dear fellow. I was certain
that when the opportunity offered, you would do so. No one could have
done better, or shown more coolness or courage. Had it not been for
you, Bouldon would have lost his life; of that I am certain. He was
almost gone when I came up."
"Why, Bracebridge, I considered that you saved both our lives,"
exclaimed Ellis, in a tone of surprise at hearing himself so praised.
"Had you not come up, we should both have been lost."
"Oh! I only used a little judgment, and followed one of the many bits
of good advice my father has given me from time to time," said Ernest.
"I neither ought nor will take any of the credit which belongs to you;
so pray, my dear fellow, do not talk of what I have done."
Ellis, however, argued the point; but Ernest took care that the way he
had behaved should be thoroughly known and well understood by all the
boys, as well as by the Doctor.
The fishing-party had a very pleasant walk home, and seldom had fuller
baskets of fish been brought to the school.
That evening, after prayers, the Doctor called up Ellis, and, placing
him on his right hand, said that he wished to compliment him, among all
his companions, for his bravery and coolness, which had enabled him to
have the inestimable gratification of saving the life of a
fellow-creature, a school-fellow, and a friend; "and," added the Doctor,
turning to Ernest, "I feel that you, Bracebridge, deserve not less
credit for the generous way in which you have acted in the matter."
Ernest did not obtain less credit, and Ellis found himself in a very
different position to what he had before held in the school.