Devon Boys - Part 32
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Part 32

"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 sh.e.l.ls 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 b.u.mped 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 pa.s.sion, "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 ash.o.r.e, 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 sc.r.a.pe out the contents of the sh.e.l.ls 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 ba.s.s, 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 sh.o.r.e; 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 sh.o.r.e, 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 sh.o.r.eward, "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 pa.s.sed 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 s.n.a.t.c.hes as I hauled.