"It's of no good," said Bigley, as we tramped down over the rough sand
and pebbles. "When he says `no' he means it. We could have managed the
boat all right. I say, I'll get him some day to let Binnacle Bill take
us, and we'll buy some twisty Bristol for him, and make him spin yarns."
"But where's the weir?" I said, as we were getting close down to where
the sea was breaking, and where the fresh-water of the little river came
bubbling up from among the boulders after its dive down below, and was
now mingling with the salt water of the sea.
"Where's the weir?" cried Bigley. "Why, this is it."
"This?" said Bob, "why it's only a lot of hurdles." So it appeared at
first sight, but it was ingeniously contrived all the same for its
purpose; and in accordance with the habits of the salmon and other fish
that are fond of coming up with the tide to get into fresh-water, and
run up the different rivers and streams.
It was a very simple affair, and looked to be exactly what Bob had
said--a lot of old hurdles. But it was strongly made all the same, and
consisted of a couple of rows of stout stakes driven down into the
beach, just after the fashion of the figure on the opposite page, with
one row towards the sea, and the other running up beside where the
stream water bubbled up and towards the shore. In and out of these
stakes rough oak boughs were woven so closely, that from the bottom to
about four feet up, though the water would run through easily enough,
there was no room for a decent-sized fish to go through, while down at
the bottom all this was strengthened by being banked up with stones
inside and out, and all carefully laid and wedged in together, and
cemented with lime.
Now when the tide was up all these posts and hurdles were covered with
water, and as the fish swam up to meet the fresh stream, a great many
would sometimes be over the ground inclosed by the weir, searching about
for food washed down by the stream, or for the little shrimps and other
water creatures that hung about the hurdles, which were a favourite
place too with mussels, which cling to such wood-work by thousands. Now
though they are easily frightened it does not seem as if fish have much
brain, for sometimes they stopped swimming about inside these hurdles
till the tide had run down as low as the tops of the posts, and then,
feeling it was time for them to be off with the tide, they'd start to
swim off, but only to find themselves shut in.
Sometimes it would be a shoal of grey mullet, sometimes a salmon or two
that had tried to get up the stream, and could not get by the pebble
bar; and there they would be swimming about, not feeling their danger
till it was too late.
First of all they would try to get through the hurdles, and there they
would keep on trying till some wise one amongst them thought that by
swimming round the ends at A or B they would reach the open sea.
Sometimes they would do this and escape. They all follow one another
like sheep in a flock; but generally they do not try to get round the
ends till it is too late, for while there is still plenty of water at C
there is very little at B and none at all at A, and the consequence is
that the fish are left splashing when the tide goes out, in a few little
shallow pools, where there is nothing to do but scoop them out with a
bit of a net.
The tide was getting well down, and the hurdles were nearly all bare,
but there was too much water for us to see whether there were any fish
left, and so we stood on first one big boulder, and then upon another,
as they were left dry, every now and then making a bold leap on to a
rock, to stand there surrounded by water, and now and then obliged to
jump back to avoid a wetting.
But at last the hurdles and stones at the sea end of the weir were
completely left by the tide, so that we could walk down, and then, as
the water shallowed more and more in the triangular inclosure, we looked
out eagerly for fish.
"There they are--lots of 'em!" cried Bob excitedly, for he was too much
interested to be disagreeable and say unpleasant things.
"Oh, those are only little ones," cried Bigley, as the little silvery
fry kept flashing out of the surface. "They'll all go out through the
holes. You'll see none of them will be left."
And so it proved; for as the water in the inclosure sank lower and lower
the small fry were seen no more, but a swirl here and there showed that
one, if not more, good-sized fish were left, and in the anticipation of
a good catch we hopped about from stone to stone, and clambered along
the hurdles.
"Hooray!" shouted Bob, who was now in a high state of delight, "isn't
this better than learning our jolly old _hic_--_haec_--_hoc_, eh, Sep?"
"I should think so."
"Oh!"
There was a shout and a splash and we two roared with laughter, for
Bigley had just then made a jump to gain a stone standing clear of the
falling water, when, not allowing for the slippery sea-weed that grew
upon it in a patch, his feet glided over the smooth stone and he came
down in a sitting position in the water, which flew out in spray on all
sides.
"Here! Hi! Net!--net!" shouted Bob. "Come on, Sep, here's such a big
one--a Bigley big one. It's a shark, I know it is. Look at his teeth!"
"It's all very well to laugh," said Bigley, getting up and standing
knee-deep in the water to squeeze the moisture out of the upper part of
his clothes, "but how would you like it?"
"Ever so," cried Bob; "I'm as hot as hot. Mind how you go near him,
Sep, he'll bite. Oh, don't I wish I had a boat-hook, I'd fetch him
out."
"I don't care. It's only sea-water. I don't mind," grumbled Bigley
wading about in the pool. "I say, boys, here's a salmon and a whole lot
of mullet."
"Where, where?" cried Bob, and, without a moment's hesitation he jumped
in and waded towards Bigley.
"There! Can't you see 'em? There they go!" cried Bigley pointing.
"No."
"Why, out yonder! They're lying there quiet now amongst the stones."
"Oh, won't I give it you for this, old Big!" cried Bob. "There are no
fish there at all. You gammoned me to make me come in and get my legs
wet like yours are. Never mind, I'll serve you out."
"Why, there are some fish," cried Bigley indignantly.
"Don't you believe him, Sep," said Bob. "It's all nonsense."
"Yes, there are," I said from where I had climbed over the deepest part
by clinging to the hurdles, "I can see them."
"Oh no, you can't, my lad. You'd like me to come splashing through the
water there for you to laugh at me, but it won't do. There isn't a
single fish in the place, only old Bigley--old Babby as his father calls
him. I say, Sep, what a game! Did you ever see such a babby?"
"Don't do that," said Bigley sharply.
"Don't do what?--splash you?" cried Bob. "There--and there."
He suited the action to the word, and scooping up the water, he sent it
flying over our tall schoolmate.
"You know what I mean," said Bigley, speaking in a low angry tone such
as I had never before heard from him.
"Why, what do you mean?" cried Bob offensively. "Do you want me to
thrash you?"
"I want you to leave my father alone, and what he says to me," said
Bigley sharply. "I don't mind your making fun of me. I don't mind what
you call me; but that's his name he has always used since I was a little
baby, and you've no business to say it."
"Ha--ha--ha!" laughed Bob, "here's a game. Do you hear, Sep! He says
he was once a little baby. I don't believe it. Ha--ha--ha!"
Bigley did not take any notice, and I did not join in the laugh, so Bob
made a movement as if he were going to wade out of the pool, and his
lips parted to say something disagreeable. I knew as well as could be
that he was going to say that he should go home if we were about to turn
like that; but his legs were wet, and the walk home was long, and not
pleasant to take alone. And then there were the fish in the pool to
catch, and in spite of his expressions of unbelief he knew that there
must be some. So he altered his mind, and changed his tone.
"I didn't want to upset you, Big, old matey," he said. "I didn't, did
I, Sep Duncan? Here, what's the good of quarrelling when it's holidays?
There, I won't call you so any more."
Bigley's face cleared in a moment, and with a couple of splashes he was
at Bob's side with one hand extended, and the other upon his
school-fellow's shoulder.
"It's all right," he said quickly. "Shake hands, and let's get the
fish. There, I'll go for the prawn net and a basket."
He ran splashing out of the water, and up over the boulders towards the
cottage, leaving me and Bob together.
"I wouldn't be as big as he is," said Bob, "and I wouldn't have such a
nasty temper for thousands of pounds. Here, what are you grinning at?"
"At you." For there was something so comic in his speech, coming as it
did from the most ill-tempered boy in the school--Dr Stacey had often
said so, and Bob proved it every day of his life--that I burst into a
hearty laugh.
Bob stood knee-deep in the water staring hard at me. For the first few
moments he looked furious; then he seemed to grow sulky, and then in a
low surly voice he said:
"I say, Sep, it isn't true, is it?"
"Isn't what true?"
"About the--about what old stay-sail said?"
"About you being disagreeable?"
"Yes. It isn't true, is it?"