I went away to see if I could find Bigley, feeling very much put out,
and full of hope that Bob Chowne, when he came, would not ask me to take
him to see the mine.
For, truth to tell, I had made rather a fuss about that mine, talking
about silver-lead in a very important way at school; and, as I recalled
my words, I felt quite a shudder of horror as I thought of all the boys
in my class coming and standing at the mouth of the mine, and bursting
into a roar of laughter at this being the silver cavern in the earth.
There was no likelihood of any of them coming save Bob Chowne; but there
was no knowing what he would say when we got back if I offended him and
he was in one of his teasing fits.
I walked down to the end of the Gap, past the cottage, and was just
going to ask if Bigley had come back, when I saw old Jonas and Binnacle
Bill, with another man, putting off in the lugger, which was lying by a
buoy about a quarter of a mile from the shore.
After five months at school it seemed such a pretty sight to see the red
sails hoisted and fill out, and the lugger begin to move slowly over the
smooth water, that I sat down on a stone and watched the boat, wishing I
were in her, till she gradually grew more distant, and there was a dull
thud close beside me.
I looked round but saw nothing, and I was turning to watch the lugger
again, when I heard a fresh pat on the slate rubbish by me, and soon
after a piece of flat, thin shale struck the clatter stream behind me.
"Some one throwing," I said to myself, and looking up, there, about six
hundred feet above me on the cliff path, were Bigley and Bob Chowne.
I shouted to them, and they ran to the nearest clatter stream and began
to slide down standing. Sometimes they came swiftly for a few yards;
sometimes they stopped and each had a check, a fall, and a roll over,
but they were up again directly, and in less than half the time it would
have taken them to walk they were down by my side.
"Here, where have you been?" cried Bob, who was in the highest of glee.
"Old Big says it's such a dark quiet day that the fish are sure to bite,
and he's going to ask his father to let us have the boat, and row out."
"But Mr Uggleston isn't at home."
"No, that he isn't," said Bigley, who had just caught sight of the
lugger. "That is tiresome."
"But they haven't taken the boat," cried Bob, "so it don't matter."
"Yes, it does," said Bigley gravely, "because I shouldn't like to take
the boat without leave."
"Why, of course you wouldn't if your father was at home," said Bob
quickly; "but I'm quite sure Mr Uggleston wouldn't like us two to be
disappointed when we'd come on purpose to go."
"Oh, I don't think he'd mind," said Bigley.
"But I know he would," cried Bob, who spoke in the most consequential
manner. "Your father is rough, but he is very good at bottom."
"Why, of course he is," cried Bigley.
"Then he wouldn't like us to be cheated out of our treat, so you get the
mussels for the bait, and some worms, and let's go."
Bigley hesitated. He wanted to go, for the sea was as smooth as a
mill-pond--a rare thing in winter; and perhaps we should have to wait
for some time before another such day arrived.
He looked at me and I wanted to go too. That was plain enough, and the
chance seemed so tempting that, even if I did not openly abet Bob, I
said no word to persuade Bigley not.
"You'd got all the lines and bait ready, hadn't you?" said Bob
cunningly.
"Yes, everything's ready, and I meant to ask father as soon as I got
back. Here, hi! Mother Bonnet, how long will father be?"
"Oh, all depends on the wind," said the fresh-looking old lady coming
out, smiling and smoothing her hair. "They've gone across to Swansea,
my dear. It will be a long time 'fore they're back."
"There, you see, you can't ask, and it's no use to signal to them in the
lugger, because they couldn't understand, so you've got to take the
boat, and we shall be back long before they are."
"But it would be so horrible if we were to meet with any accident this
time," said Bigley. "You know how unlucky we were over the prawns.
There, we'd better not go!"
"There's a Molly for you!" cried Bob. "Just because we got in a muddle
twice over in catching prawns and crabs you think we're always going to
be in a mess."
"No, I don't," said Bigley; "but it would be so queer if we got into a
scrape the very first time we go out."
"Get out! Oh, I say, you do make me grin, old Big. There, go and get
your lines, and a gaff, and the basket of bait. Let's be off while the
sea is so smooth."
Bigley hesitated, and after a good deal of banter from Bob, and an
appeal to me, he went off, sorry and yet pleased, to get the lines and
bait.
"And now he'll be obliged to go, Sep. Don't let's give him time to
think, or he's such an old woman he'll back out."
"But--"
"Get out! Don't say but. There, we won't go out far, only to the mouth
there by the buoy, and we can catch plenty of fish without any trouble
at all."
I gave way--I couldn't help it, and we two went on, so that when Bigley
came with the baskets and lines we were waiting for them, and his
scruples were nearly overcome.
"Think it will matter if we take the boat?" he said dubiously, for he
evidently shared our longing to go.
I said no, I did not think it would, for we could clean it out after we
had done fishing, and we had been boating so often with other people
that I for one felt quite equal to the management of the little vessel.
But all the time there was a curious sensation of wrong-doing worrying
me, and I wished that I had not been so ready to agree. It was as if I
felt the impression of trouble that was coming; but I kept the feeling
to myself.
"Well," said Bigley, "I did mean to ask for leave."
"Of course you did," cried Bob Chowne; "but as your father is off you
can't. Come along, boys, and let's get a good haul this time."
He seized the bait-basket and made the shells of the mussels rattle as
he trotted down towards where the little five-pointed anchor or grapnel
lay on the beach, and began to haul in the boat.
As the light buoyant vessel came gliding over the smooth surface, and
grated and bumped against and over the stones, the thoughts of whether
we were doing right or wrong grew faint, and then, as the bait-basket
was thrown in, and the lines followed, they were forgotten.
"In with you, lads!" cried Bob, making a spring, and leaping from a dry
stone right into the boat; but his feet slipped, and he came down
sitting in the basket of mussels with an unpleasant crash.
"Now, look here!" he cried in a passion, "if you fellows laugh at me I
won't go."
Of course this made us all the more disposed; but we turned our backs
and went down upon our knees to begin seeing to the hooks upon one of
the reeled-up lines.
"There, you are laughing both of you!" cried Bob, who was easing the
pain he felt, or thought he was, by lifting up and setting down first
one leg and then the other.
"That we are not!" I cried, and certainly our faces were serious
enough, as we hurriedly popped the lines over the bows, when I jumped
in, and, catching up the little grapnel, Bigley took one big stride with
his long legs, and was on the gunwale, which went down nearly to the
water with his weight; but as the boat rose again, the impetus of the
thrust he gave her in leaping aboard carried her out a couple of
lengths.
There was no thought now of any wrong-doing, as Bob and I seized an oar
apiece and began to paddle as the boat rose and fell and glided over the
swelling tide.
"Pull away, Sep!" cried Bob. "Here, old Big, you're sitting all on one
side and making the boat lop. Get in the middle or I'll splash you!"
Bigley moved good-humouredly, and the boat danced beneath his weight.
"Heave ho! Steady!" shouted Bob. "Don't sink us, lad. I say, what a
weight you are! Let's put him ashore, Sep. He's too big a Big for a
boat like this."
"Make good ballast," said Bigley, laughing good-humouredly. "Boats are
always safer when they are well ballasted."
"I daresay they are, but I like 'em best without Big lumps in 'em. I
say, how far out shall we go?"
"Oh, about a quarter of a mile, straight out, over the Ringlet rocks.
You pull, I'll watch the bearings, and drop out the grapnel. Pull
hard!"
We rowed away steadily, while, to save time, Bigley took out his
pocket-knife and, taking a board from the bait-basket, laid it upon the
seat, and began to open the mussels and scrape out the contents of the
shells ready for placing them upon the hooks when we reached the fishing
ground.
For I may tell you that knowing the bottom well has a great deal to do
with success in sea-fishing. A stranger to our parts might think that
all he had to do was to row out in a little boat a few hundred yards,
and begin to fish.
If he did that, the chances are that he would not catch anything, while
a boat three or four lengths away might be hauling in fish quite fast.
The reason is simple. Sea fish frequent certain places after the
fashion of fresh-water fish, which are found, according to their sorts,
on muddy bottoms; half-way down in clear deeps; among piles; in gravelly
swims; at the tails of weeds; or under the boughs of trees close in to
the side of river or lake.
So with the sea fish. If we wanted to catch bass, we threw out in
places where the tide ran fast; if we were trying for pollack, it was
along close by the stones of the rocky shore; if for conger, in deep
dark holes; and if for flat-fish, right out in deep water, where the
bottom was all soft oozy sand.
Upon this occasion we had decided for the latter, and with Bigley giving
a word now and then to direct us, as he watched certain points on the
shore, we rowed away for quite half a mile, but keeping straight out
from the Gap.
"Now we're just over the Ringlets," cried Bigley suddenly.
"Heave over the anchor then!" I shouted.
"No, go on a bit farther, about fifty yards, and then we shall be on the
muddy sand. I know."
We boys pulled, and then all at once Bigley shouted "In oars!" and we
ceased rowing as the grapnel went over the side with a splash, and the
cord ran across the gunwale, grating and _scrorting_ as Bob called it,
till the little anchor reached the bottom, and the drifting of the boat
was checked.
"I say, isn't it deep?" I said.
"Just about nine fathoms," said Bigley. "You'll have plenty of hauling
to do."
"I say, look!" I cried, as I happened to look shoreward, "you can see
right up the Gap nearly to the mine."
"Isn't the sea smooth?" said Bob. "It's just like oil. Now then, first
fish. Put us on a good big bait, Bigley, old chap."
The hooks were all ready with the weights and spreaders, and Bigley
began calmly enough to hook and twist on a couple of the wet and messy
raw mussels for Bob, and then did the same for mine, when we two began
to fish on opposite sides of the boat, letting the leads go rapidly down
what appeared to be a tremendous distance before they touched the ooze.
It seemed quite a matter of course that we two were to fish, and Bigley
wait upon us, opening mussels, rebaiting when necessary, and holding
himself ready to take off the fish, should any be caught.
I never used to think anything about Bigley Uggleston in these days,
only that he was overgrown and good-tempered, and never ready to
quarrel; and it did not seem to strike either of us that he was about
the most unselfish, self-denying slave that ever lived. I know now that
we were perfect tyrants to him, while he, amiable giant that he was,
bore it all with the greatest of equanimity, and the more unreasonable
we were, the more patient he seemed to grow.
We fished for some few minutes without a sign, and then Bob grew weary.
"It's no good here, Big, they won't bite. Let's go on farther."
"Bait's off, perhaps," suggested Bigley.
"No, it isn't. I haven't had a touch."
"Perhaps not, but the flat-fish suck it off gently sometimes. Pull up."
Bob drew in the wet line hand over hand, till the lead sinker hit the
side of the boat; and Bigley proved to be right, both baits were off his
hooks, and as they were being rebaited I hauled in my line to find that
it was in the same condition.
By the time Bob's lead was at the bottom, my hooks were being covered
with mussel, and I threw in again.
As mine reached the sandy ooze, and I held the line in one hand, there
was a slight vibration of the lead, but it passed away again, and I
fished, to pull up again at the end of a few minutes and find both baits
gone.
Bob's were the same, and so we fished on till he declared that it was of
no use, that it was the tide washed the bait off, and that there wasn't
a fish within a hundred yards. "But I'm sure there are lots," said
Bigley. "Why, how can you tell?" cried Bob. "You can't see two feet
down through the water, it's so muddy."
"I know by the baits being taken off," replied Bigley decidedly. "There
are fish here I'm sure, and--"
"I've got him," I shouted, beginning to haul in, for I could feel
something heavy at the end of the line which had given several sharp
snatches as I hauled.
"Oh, what a shame!" cried Bob. "I don't see why they should come first
to old Sep. Here, I know what it is. Only an old bow-wow."
"No, it isn't," I exclaimed as I caught a glimpse of something white,
looking like a slice of the moon far down below the boat. "It's a
flat-fish, and a big one."
I proved to be right, as I hauled it flapping over the side, and Bigley
seized what proved to be a nice plaice, and took the hook from its jaws.
As the line, being rebaited, was thrown in again, there was a serious
examination of the prize, which was about to be transferred to the
basket brought to hold our captures, when Bob shouted, "I've got him!"
and began to haul in with all his might.
We both adjured him to be careful, but in his excitement he paid no
heed, only dragged as hard as he could, and hoisted in a long grey fish,
at which he gazed with a comical aspect full of disgust.
I laughed, and as I laughed he grew more angry, for his prize was what
he had previously called a "bow-wow" and attributed to me. For it was a
good-sized dog-fish, one which had to be held at head and tail lest in
its twining and lashing about it should strike with its spine and do
some mischief.
"Here, let me take him off," cried Bob.
"No, no; you mind the line isn't tangled," cried Bigley; but Bob gave
him a push, the dog-fish, which was nearly a yard long, was set free,
and began to journey about amongst Bob's line, while, when he placed his
foot upon its head, the fierce creature bent half round, and then let
itself go like a spring, with the effect that it struck Bob's shoe so
smart a blow with one of its spines that the shoe was pierced by the
toe, and it required a tug to withdraw the spine.
"Are you hurt, Bob?" we both cried earnestly.
"No, not a bit. My toes don't go down as far as that. Ah, would you?"
This was to the fish, which was lashing about fiercely.
"Let me do it, Bob. I'll kill it in no time, and I know how to manage
him."
"So do I," said Bob independently, as he made another attack upon the
dog-fish, which resented it by a fresh stroke with its spine, this time
so near to Bob's leg that he jumped back and fell over the thwart.
"I say, that was near," he cried. "You have a try, Big."
Our school-fellow wanted no second bidding, and taking hold of the line,
he drew the fish's head under his right foot, pressed down its tail with
his left, took out the hook, and then with his knife inflicted so
serious a cut upon the creature that, when he threw it over, it only
struggled feebly, as it sank slowly and was carried away.
"There's a cruel wretch!" cried Bob. "Did you see how vicious he was
with his knife?"
"It isn't cruel to kill fishes like that," retorted Bigley. "See what
mischief they do hunting the other fish and eating everything. See how
they bite the herrings and mackerel out of the nets, only leaving their
heads."
"He wouldn't have said anything if the dog had spiked him," I said.
"Why, so he did spike me," cried Bob; "and--"
"I've got another," I cried, beginning to haul up, and as I hauled Bob
sent his freshly-baited and disentangled hook down to the bottom.
I had caught another flat-fish about the size of the first, and directly
after Bob caught one. Then there was a pause, and I took another
dog-fish, and after that we fished, and fished, and fished for about
half an hour and caught nothing.
It was December, but the air was still, and we did not feel it in the
slightest degree cold. I suppose it was the excitement kept us warm,
for there was always the expectation of taking something big, even if
the great fish never came.
Just as we were thinking that it was of no use to stay longer the fish
began to bite again, and we caught several, but all small, and then all
at once, as I was lowering my lead, I cried out:
"Look here! I can't touch bottom."
"Nonsense!" said Bob, lowering his line, but only to become a convert,
and exclaim accordingly.
"Why, we're drifting," cried Bigley, going to the line that held the
anchor, to find that it had been dragged out of the muddy sand, and that
we had slowly gone with the tide into deeper water, whose bottom there
was not length enough of rope for the grapnel to touch.
"I'll soon put that right," cried Bigley, unfastening the line and
letting about three fathoms more run out, but even then the anchor did
not reach bottom, and without we were stationary it was of no use to
fish.
"Haul in your lines, lads," cried Bigley, setting us an example by
dragging away at the cord which held the anchor. "We must row back a
bit. We've drifted into the deep channel. I didn't know we were out so
far."
"Oh, I say, look!" cried Bob. "It's beginning to rain, and we've no
greatcoats."
"Never mind," said Big, getting hold of the anchor as we drew in our
leads, and laid them with the hooks carefully placed aside, ready for
beginning again.
"Now, then, who's going to pull along with me!"
"You pull, Sep," said Bob. "I want to count the fish."
I took an oar, and just as I was about to pull the boat's head round I
looked towards the mouth of the Gap, which was nearly three-quarters of
a mile away, and though at present the smooth sea was just specked here
and there by the falling drops, over shoreward there was what seemed to
be a thick mist coming as it were out of the mouth of the Gap, and a
curious dull roar towards where we were.
"Going to be a squall," said Bigley. "Pull away, Sep, and let's get
ashore."
Easy enough to say--difficult enough to do, as we very soon found, in
spite of trying our very best.