It was a glorious evening, the aspect of the bay being grand, lit up as
it was by the golden light of the setting sun. Distant windows glowed
like fire; the rugged Cornish hills were like amber; and sea and sky
were gorgeous with brilliant hues.
"Oh! I do like this!" cried Dick. "I wish poor old--but you will bring
him next time. Now, then, what shall I do?"
"Sit still," said Josh gruffly, "and see him pay out the line."
Dick felt snubbed; but on glancing at Will he was met by a friendly nod
as the lad busied himself in making fast one end of the line, coiled up
in the basket, to the buoy-rope, and then, as Josh took both oars, fixed
his eyes upon a point on land, and began to row slowly due south, Will
let the line run over the side.
It was no easy task, and it required co-operation on the part of him at
the oars, for every now and then, in spite of the care with which the
line had been coiled, and the hooks regularly baited and laid in place,
there would be a disposition to kink, and for hooks to catch and go down
tangled with each other. But Josh always had an eye for this, and was
ready to ease the boat's progress, or in a bad case to back water, while
Will's quick clever fingers pounced upon every hitch, shook out the
line, and sent it down fathom after fathom with its hooks and baits
clear to lie upon the bottom.
"Shall I--shall I hinder you if I talk?" said Dick at last, when about
half the line was out.
"Hinder! No," cried Will; "talk away."
"Why didn't you put the line down there where we caught that beautiful--
what was it--pollack?"
"Because the bottom was all rocks, and we should have lost the line.
Besides, it isn't a good place for long-line fish."
"Oh!" said Dick; and he was silent, watching the line go over, and the
baits seem to dart down through the dark clear water and disappear,
while Josh rowed on and on, with his eyes now on the line-basket, now on
the land, his forehead wrinkled, and his countenance as solemn as if
this were the most serious venture of his life.
And what a wonderful sight it was! The waters of that great bay turning
to topaz, and then to ruby, as if the oars were plashing up wine, which
bubbled and foamed as the boat went slowly on, while close down in the
shadow, where Will lowered the line, all was of a dark transparent
slate.
Down went bait after bait, coil after coil of the line, till the uneven
rings in the basket grew fewer--fewer still--then there were only three
or four--two--one.
"Avast!" shouted Josh, throwing in his oars and dropping another little
grapnel anchor overboard, which ran out so much rope. Then a little tub
buoy was passed after it, and Josh held on by the ring, while Will
fastened the line to the rope, dropped it, and as the last bait rested
on the bottom, turned with satisfied face to the visitor.
"There!" he said; "that's done."
"But you did not tell me why you came here to lay the line," said Dick.
"'Cause it's a good place," growled Josh.
"Yes; it's a long even bank of sand, all about the same depth, five or
six fathoms; and the flat-fish lie here a good deal."
"And the trawler can't touch 'em, 'cause there's a rock here and there
as would stop their net."
"I see," said Dick dubiously. Then, determined to know all--"No, I
don't quite see," he said. "I don't know what you mean by the crawler."
"Trawler, lad--trawler. I didn't say crawler," cried Josh. "A mussy
me!" he added softly.
"Well, trawler, then. What's a trawler?"
"Fore-an'-aft rig boat."
"Oh, I say!" cried Dick merrily, "it's all like Dutch to me. How am I
to know what a fore-an'-aft rig boat is?"
"A mussy me!" groaned Josh, to Will's great delight; "how your
eddication have been neglected! Don't you know what rig means?"
"Yes; the rigging of a ship."
"Or a boat," said Josh. "Well, don't you know what fore-and-aft means?"
"Not unless it's before and after, or behind."
"It ain't no before and no after; it's fore-and-aft," growled Josh.
"He's quite right, Josh," said Will, taking his new friend's side; "fore
means before, or forward, and aft means after, or behind."
"Oh! very well; have it your own way," said Josh, putting a pellet of
tobacco in his mouth. "I call it fore-and-aft."
"That's right too, Josh. Look here, sir, we call the rig of a boat or
ship fore-and-aft when the sails are flat, like they are in a cutter or
sloop or schooner. When I say flat I mean stretching from the front of
the vessel to the stern; and we call it square-rigged when the sails are
put across."
"Then there's lug-sails like them," said Josh, pointing to some
fishing-boats, whose brown sails stood out against the amber sky; "and
there's lots of other rigs as well."
"Yes; but what's a trawler?" cried Dick.
"It's a fore-and-aft rigged boat that trawls," said Will. "She has a
great net like a big night-cap stretched over on a spar, which we call a
trawl-beam, and this is lowered down, and as the boat sails it is
dragged along the bottom, and catches soles, and turbot, and plaice and
sometimes john-dory, and gurnet, and brill. They like sandy banks, such
as this is; and if there were no rocks the trawler would soon sweep this
clean."
"On'y, they can't run their trawl along here a-cause o' the rocks," said
Josh.
"Which would catch the net, and they'd p'r'aps lose it."
"But they might fish it up again."
"Oh, yes! I daresay they would," replied Will with a smile.
"I say," cried Dick, "I wish you wouldn't call things by such names.
What's a creeper?"
"These are creepers that we've just put down; grapnels."
"Ah, we call them drags in London," said Dick. "I say, I should like to
go in a trawler."
"Well, you easily can," replied Will, "if you are going to stay here."
"Think you've got a bite yet?"
"What, at the baits? Let's try."
Josh was already putting the boat about, and was beginning to row back
over the same ground towards the first buoy.
"Oh, you're going to try there first!" said Dick.
"Of course, where the line has been down longest," said Will. "See how
the tide flows."
"Does it?" responded Dick, staring.
"Yes; can you see that Josh has to pull harder with one oar than with
the other, or else we should be carried right away from the buoy? The
line's set right across the tide."
"Is it? Why?"
"So as to be ready for the fish that come up with the tide to feed.
Look at that."
"Why, it rains," cried Dick. "No, it don't. Why, the water's all of a
patter. It's fish rising."
"Little school o' mack'rel," said Josh. "They'll be seeing o' them from
up the cliff bime-by."
"And does a _school_ of mackerel always play about on the top like
that?" said Dick, watching the dappled water where the fish were
swimming close to the surface.
"Not it, lad. They're oftener down below. Look at the mews coming
after 'em."
He nodded in the direction of half a dozen grey gulls which came
flapping towards them, and as the school passed off to the left and the
boat bore to the right Dick could see the flap-winged birds keep dipping
down with a querulous cry, splash the water, and ascend again.
"They're after the brill," said Will.
"Brill!"
"Yes; the small fish that the mackerel are feeding on. They keep
snatching them up from the top of the water. Little fish about half as
big as sprats. Look at them, you can almost see the little fish they
catch. There, that fellow has got a good one."
And so they watched the evolutions of the gulls for a few minutes, till
Josh called out "_Avast_!" and Dick turned, to find that they were back
at the first buoy.
"Now, then, are you ready?" said Will.
"Yes," cried Dick.
"Take Josh's gaff then, and you shall hook in the first big one."
Will's sleeves were rolled up above the elbow, and the line was drawn up
over the boat, which was so placed that the line was across it, Josh
helping with one oar, while Will hauled at the line, drawing it up one
side and letting it go down again on the other.
First bait untouched, and passed on to descend on the other side.
Second bait gone, and replaced by a fresh piece of squid from the
basket. Third bait gone, and replaced, to descend on the other side.
Then four baits untouched, six more gone, taken off.
"Why, if you'd been ready to strike, you might have had all these fish
when they began to bite," cried Dick.
"P'r'aps so," said Will. "Maybe it was only the crabs that bit the
baits off."
And all the time he kept on hauling in the line and examining the hook
till they were a long way on towards the farther buoy.
"Oh, I say," cried Dick at last, "this isn't half such good sport as--
what do you call it?--whiffing."
"Think not?" said Will.
"Yes, that I do. I should have thought you would have caught lots of
fish with a line like this."
"So we do," cried Josh, "sometimes."
"I wish you'd catch something now," said Dick in a disappointed tone.
"Here you are then," cried Will, laughing as he hauled on at the line;
"a big one."
"Where, where?" cried Dick, ready with the hook.
"Down below here; I can feel him."
"Let me haul him in."
"No, no," said Will. "You'd better let me. You'll get too wet. Be
ready with the hook."
"Yes, yes, I am," cried Dick, more excitedly than ever.
But he began to look disappointed as he saw three bare hooks drawn out,
all of which Will baited and passed on, to fall into the sea on the
other side.
"Why, there can't be," began Dick. "Yes, there he is; I can see him."
"Yes, here he comes," said Will, hauling strongly now as a great
quivering grey object changing to white could be seen below. "Ready
with the hook! slip it into him anywhere, and haul him aboard. Never
mind a bit of splashing."
But Dick did flinch for a few moments as something came to the surface,
beating, flapping, and sending the water flying; while before the lad
had recovered from his surprise, Josh had bent forward, taken the hook,
and lifted the great fish on board just as it freed itself from the
hook, and lay floundering at the bottom of the boat.
"Skate," cried Dick. "What a monster!"
"No," cried Will, coolly rebaiting the hook; "it's his first cousin.
That's a thornback. Mind his prickles."
The great ugly sharky fish was hooked forward by Josh and placed in a
great basket, where it lay writhing its eely tail, and flapping its
wing-like fins as the boat slowly progressed, and bait after bait was
replaced, many being untouched, the thornback, skate, or ray being the
only fish taken.
"But he's a very big one," said Dick, seeking to make up for the
disappointment.
"Yes, she's big enough," said Josh; "but they don't pay for taking."
"Better luck next run down," said Will, as they rowed back to the first
buoy, he helping this time with an oar. "The fish feed better when it
begins to be dusk; they can't see the line."
"But they would not be able to see the bait."
"Then they would smell it," said Will. "Fish generally feed best in the
dark."
The buoy was reached, and the line once more hauled aboard, this time
with a grey gurnard on the first hook. The second was bare. The third
and fourth both had gurnards upon them. Then there was an untouched
bait, and then a very large plaice, dotted with orange spots, whose
appearance made Josh grunt with satisfaction. Next came a large sole,
then a small one, and again a large sole, after which there was a long
array of empty hooks, and Dick began to feel dissatisfied, for there was
no work for the gaff-hook.
"Here's a conger, I think," said Will suddenly.
"A conger!" cried Dick excitedly, as he began to think of gigantic
creatures like sea-serpents.
"Yes, a small one. Get your knife, Josh."
The latter opened his big knife, and as a great eel about three feet
long was drawn over the side they did not trouble to extract the hook
which was swallowed right down; but Josh cut the string of the snooding
close to the living creature's jaws, and let it drop in the boat, about
which it began to travel serpent-fashion to Dick's great discomfort.
"She won't hurt you," said Josh, "unless you put your finger in her
mouth. She can bite, but not like the big ones."
"But is this a conger?" said Dick, watching the slimy creature as it
sought for a hiding-place, and strove to get under the grating in the
bottom of the boat.
"Conger! To be sure it is," said Will.
"But I thought congers were very big."
"They grow big, of course," said Will smiling.
"But this may be only a large eel. They do go in the sea, you know."
"Oh, yes! I know they do; but river eels don't have eyes like this.
Look at them," he said, pointing to the creature's huge eyes. "Sea fish
nearly all have very large eyes, so as to see deep down at the bottom.
Here's something better. Now try and gaff this."
"Why, it's another skate," cried Dick, determined this time not to give
up the hook; and as the large round white fish came up fighting hard
against capture he made a dash at it and hooked it firmly, drawing it
over the side, to lie flapping in the bottom of the boat.
"That's better," cried Will.
"Cheerily ho, my lad; well done," cried Josh. "That's the way to gawf
'em."
"But it's a turbot," said Dick excitedly. "Why, you don't catch turbots
here, and like this?"
"Seems as if we did," said Will laughing, "when we can. We don't often
have a bit of luck like this. He's worth seven or eight shillings."
"My father will buy it," cried Dick. "I say, let him have it."
"Oh, he shall have it if he likes," cried Will, as the turbot was thrown
into the basket to set the skate flapping, and the gurnards curling
their heads round towards their tails like cleaned whiting, and a
regular scuffle took place.
Meanwhile the boat was forced on beneath the line and a whiting and a
couple of small plaice were taken off. Then more bait had disappeared,
and then the last hook was being hauled up when Will snatched at the
hook, made a sharp stroke with it, twisted it round, and held it under
water for a minute before dragging out a nasty grey-looking bag, all
tentacles, and with a couple of ugly eyes, which dropped from the hook
as Will gave it a twist.
"Cuttle-fish," he said. "Did you see him squirt out his ink?"
"And make that cloud in the water?" said Dick. "Yes, I saw."
This curious object with its suckers took his attention as they rowed
back once more to the first buoy, where once more the line was overrun,
the first fish caught being a dog-fish--a long, thin, sharky-looking
creature, with its mouth right underneath and back from its snout, and
its tail not like that of an ordinary fish, but unequal in the fork,
that is to say, with a little lobe and a very large one.
"Game's over," said Josh. "Let's go back and get in the buoy and
creeper."
"Yes," assented Will; "it's of no more use to-night."
"Why?" asked Dick.
"Drove of dogs on the bank, my lad," said Josh. "They'll eat every bait
we put down. No use to fish any more to-night."
Dick did not believe it, but he said nothing as the first buoy was taken
on board, and the little creeper anchor hauled in. Then the oars were
laid in, and Josh set to work hauling in the line, leaving the boat to
drift, the line being strong enough for them to work it up towards the
second buoy, while both took off the baits and the fish--twelve of them,
and all dog-fish, to be killed and thrown overboard.
At last the boat was drawn right up to the last buoy, the hooks being
all cleaned and laid in place, and the line coiled in its basket, the
evening growing dark the while, and the lights twinkling on the shore,
when, all at once, as Josh was hauling in the little anchor, Will
happened to look up.
"Quick, Josh! oars! pull!"
Dick started and looked up, and as he did so it seemed as if a great
black cloud were coming to crush them down.