"These are creepers that we've just put down; grapnels."

"Ah, we call them drags in London," said d.i.c.k. "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 d.i.c.k.

"Of course, where the line has been down longest," said Will. "See how the tide flows."

"Does it?" responded d.i.c.k, 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 d.i.c.k. "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 d.i.c.k, 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 pa.s.sed off to the left and the boat bore to the right d.i.c.k 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 s.n.a.t.c.hing 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 d.i.c.k turned, to find that they were back at the first buoy.

"Now, then, are you ready?" said Will.

"Yes," cried d.i.c.k.

"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 pa.s.sed 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 d.i.c.k.

"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 d.i.c.k 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 d.i.c.k in a disappointed tone.

"Here you are then," cried Will, laughing as he hauled on at the line; "a big one."

"Where, where?" cried d.i.c.k, 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 d.i.c.k, more excitedly than ever.

But he began to look disappointed as he saw three bare hooks drawn out, all of which Will baited and pa.s.sed on, to fall into the sea on the other side.

"Why, there can't be," began d.i.c.k. "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 d.i.c.k 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 d.i.c.k. "What a monster!"

"No," cried Will, coolly rebaiting the hook; "it's his first cousin.

That's a thornback. Mind his p.r.i.c.kles."

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 d.i.c.k, seeking to make up for the disappointment.