"I'm going to play him first."

"Pull him in sharp, hand over hand, or you'll lose him!" cried Josh.

The boy obeyed, and drew away at the cord till he could see what looked like a great silver shuttle darting about in the quivering water, and then, panting still, he drew out a fine mackerel, with its rippled sides, glorious with pearly tints, and its body bending and springing like so much animated steel.

"Oh, you beauty!" cried d.i.c.k in a state of excitement. "But I thought it must have been four times as big; it pulled so."

Will had been rowing, but he now handed the oar to Josh, unhooked the mackerel, killed it by a blow or two on the head, and then, to d.i.c.k's astonishment and horror, took out his sharp jack-knife and sliced off a long narrow piece of the silvery-skinned fish close to the tail.

"Oh, what a pity!" cried d.i.c.k. "I say!"

"You must have a good bait," said Will quietly, "and a lask from a mackerel's tail--"

"A what?"

"A long thin piece like this--we call it a lask--is one of the best baits you can have."

"But it seemed such a pity to cut that beautiful fish."

"Catch another," said Will laughing; and he threw the newly-baited hook over the side, where, as the lead dragged it down into the clear water, d.i.c.k could see it dart out of sight, looking like a small silvery fish.

"Why, how quick a mackerel must be to catch that as it goes through the water!" he said.

"Quick as lightning," said Josh. "There, you've got him again."

"So I have," cried d.i.c.k, hauling in rapidly now, as the result of his teaching, and bringing in another mackerel larger than the first.

"I'll take it off for you," said Will.

"No, no, I will. Get me another bait."

"All right!" cried Will.

"Ugh! you nasty cannibal, eating bits of your own brother!" cried d.i.c.k, apostrophising the lovely fish as it lay beating the bottom of the boat with its tail.

"Hor! hor! hor! hor!" laughed Josh heartily, the idea of the fish being a cannibal tickling him immensely. "They'll eat their own fathers and mothers and children too, when they get a chance."

"Mind, or he'll tangle the line," said Will; and he pounced upon the fish just as it was going to play shuttle in the boat, and weave the line into a task that it would take long to undo.

Then another bait was hooked on, the line thrown over, and Will resumed his oar.

"Put her along, Josh," he said.

"Ay, ay, lad," cried the st.u.r.dy fellow; and the water began to patter beneath the bows of the boat, when all at once there was a sharp crack, and Josh went backwards with his heels in the air.

"Look at that," he said sourly. "That comes o' having bad thole-pins;"

and he began to knock out the remains of the pin that formed the rowlock and which had broken short off.

This brought the boat nearly to a standstill, and consequently down went the lead to the bottom; but only to be dragged up again, d.i.c.k hauling away excitedly as he felt a good tug, tug at his bait.

"I've got him again!" he cried.

"Then you can catch fish with such tackle as ours!" said Will, who looked on highly amused at his friend's excitement.

"Oh, yes!" said d.i.c.k. "You see I didn't know. Why, what's this? Look at him how he's going. Here, I've seen these chaps in the fishmongers'

in London too. I know: it's a gurnard."

"Gunnet," said Josh correctively.

"Why, you might catch these with a great meat hook," cried d.i.c.k. "Oho!

what a mouth!"

"Look sharp and put in again, and you may get a red one: this is a grey," said Will. "Some of the red ones are beauties, and you'll hear them grunt when you take them out of the water."

"Go along," cried d.i.c.k laughing. "None of your nonsense!"

"A mussy me!" muttered Josh to himself as he knocked in a fresh thole-pin; "what a gashly little these Londoners do know!"

"They do make a grunting noise really," said Will; "just when you pull them out of the water. You'll see."

The hook was already speeding towards the bottom, but no grunting red gurnard took the bait, the boat being once more going easily along; and for the next quarter of an hour d.i.c.k did not get a bite; but at last, as they were rowing along by a rugged part of the coast where the waves foamed and roared among the rocks, tossing the olive-brown sea-weed up and dragging it back, Will bade him look out.

"You'll get a pollack along here perhaps."

For another five minutes, though, there was no sign, and d.i.c.k suggested that the bait must be gone.

"Pull it in and see," said Josh.

The lad began to haul, but at the second pull there was a tremendous s.n.a.t.c.h, the line was dragged from his fingers, and began to run rapidly over the stern.

"Look out!" cried Will.

"I've got him!" cried d.i.c.k, s.n.a.t.c.hing at the line again, and holding on though it threatened to cut into his soft white hands. "My! don't he pull! Oh! this is a monster."

"Pull! haul at him! get his nose this way!" roared Josh; and d.i.c.k pulled, with the fish darting to right and left, sixty yards away from the boat's stern; but the stress soon began to tell, and it came easier after a time, nearer and nearer, till it was drawn close up, and then d.i.c.k, who was boiling over with excitement as he gazed at the great prize he had hooked, became aware that the boat was motionless and that Will was leaning over him ready to deftly insert the new gaff-hook in the fish's gills, and lift it over the side.

"What a beauty!" cried d.i.c.k. "Is it the setting sun makes it look like that?"

"No, it's the natural colours," replied Will, taking out the hook and then laying the magnificent fish down upon its side to be admired.

"What is it?" cried d.i.c.k.

"A rock pollack," replied Will.

"And she weighs ten pound if she weighs an ounce," cried Josh.

"No, not more than nine, Josh," said Will.