d.i.c.k doused the jelly-fish down into the sun-lit waters, and then they could see its wonderful nature.

In size it was as big as a skittle-ball or a flat Dutch cheese, though a better idea of its shape may be obtained by comparing it to a half-opened mushroom whose stalk had been removed, and where beautifully cut leafy transparencies took the place of the mushroom gills.

No sooner was it in the water than it began to swim, by expanding, and contracting itself with such facility that, but for the meshes of the net, it would soon have taken its wondrous hanging fringes and delicate soap-bubble hues out of sight.

"Better not touch it," said Will, as d.i.c.k was about to place his hand beneath the curious object.

"Why not?" asked Arthur sharply.

"Because they sting," replied Will. "Some sting more than others.

Perhaps that does, sir."

Arthur glanced at his father, who nodded his head.

"Yes; I believe he is right," said Mr Temple. "It is a curious fact in natural history. We need not test it to see if it is correct."

"Look, look!" cried d.i.c.k; "here's a pollack like I caught. Oh! do look at its bright colours, father; but what shall we do with the jelly-fish?"

"Let it go. We cannot save it. In an hour or two there would be nothing left but some dirty film."

The pollack was then examined, with all its glories of gold, bronze, and orange. Then there was a skipping, twining, silvery, long-nose that could hardly be kept in the net, a fish that looked remarkably like an eel, save for its regularly shaped mackerel tail, and long beak-like nose. Sea-bream were the next--ruddy looking, large-eyed fish, not much like their fellows of the fresh water, even what were called the black bream--dark, silvery fellows, similar in shape, bearing but a small resemblance to the fish the brothers had often caught in some river or stream in a far-off home county.

d.i.c.k's eyes glistened with pleasure; and waking up more and more to the fact that the finding of fresh kinds of fish gave the boy intense delight, Will kept eagerly on the look-out.

"Here, hi! Throw that over here, Michael Pollard," cried Will.

"It be only a gashly scad," said the great, black-bearded fisherman; and he turned the fish good-humouredly into d.i.c.k's landing-net.

"Why, it's a kind of mackerel-looking fish," said d.i.c.k, as he examined his fresh prize.

"Ah! mind how you touch it!" cried Will, "it is very sharp and p.r.i.c.kly."

"All right!" said d.i.c.k. "Oh! I say, though, it is sharp."

"Well, you were warned," said Mr Temple, as d.i.c.k applied a bleeding finger to his mouth.

"Yes, but I did not know it was so sharp as that," said d.i.c.k. "Don't you touch it, Taff;" and this time he turned the fish over more carefully, to see that it was much the same shape as an ordinary mackerel, but broader of body and tail, and less graceful of outline, while its markings and tints would not compare with those of the ordinary mackerel, and it was provided, as d.i.c.k had found, with some very keen spines.

"What do you call this?" said Arthur, rather importantly.

"Scad, sir--horse-mackerel," cried Will.

"Are they good to eat?" said Arthur.

Will shook his head.

"They taste strong, and they say they're not wholesome, sir," replied Will. "Look, they've just caught a ba.s.s."

The beautiful silvery fish was pa.s.sed on by one of the fishermen, and the brilliant scales and sharp, perch-like fin of this favourite fish were being examined, when a violent splashing and commotion told of the presence of something larger in the net.

Whatever it was it escaped for the time; but ten minutes later it was caught in another net, a large, vigorous-looking fish, which made a bold effort to escape, but instead of leaping back into the sea fell into the bottom of one of the boats, where one of the fishermen gave it three or four vigorous blows with a club before he pa.s.sed it on to Josh, who ladled it into his own boat with the net borrowed from d.i.c.k.

"Hake, sir," he said to Mr Temple. "Right good fish, sir, cooked anyhow; and I say as good as cod."

"How came that to be in a mackerel shoal?" said Mr Temple.

"Hungry, sir, _I_ should say," replied Josh. "They generally follows the herring and pilchards, and s.n.a.t.c.h 'em as they're coming into the nets. I s'pose this one wanted a bit o' mackerel for a treat."

"About nine pounds, sir, I should say," said Will. "You'd like to keep it for dinner?"

"Is it good enough?" said Mr Temple smiling.

"Good enough, sir!" cried Will. "Oh, yes! People don't know what a good fish hake is, or they'd oftener want it in London. There's another fish that isn't a mackerel, Master d.i.c.k. What should you say that is?"

"Don't know," said d.i.c.k, looking at a curious pale-green mottled fish of two or three pounds weight. It was something like a perch in shape, but longer and more regular, and unprovided with the sharp back fin.

"Do you know what it is, papa?" asked Arthur.

"No, my boy, I am not learned in these west-country fishes. What is it, my man?"

"It's a rock-fish, sir, that must have lost its way, for they are not often caught away from the rock," replied Will. "It's the wra.s.se, sir; some of them are very brightly coloured."

"'Tain't," said Josh gruffly. "What do you want to tell the gentleman wrong for? It's a wraagh, sir--a curner."

"They call them _wraaghs_ or _curners_, sir," explained Will, colouring a little; "but the name in the natural history's wra.s.se."

"Then nat'ral history's wrong," said Josh, in an ill-used way. "A mussy me! as if I didn't know what a wraagh was."

"Want any squid, Josh?" cried one of the fishermen.

"Ay, hand 'em over," said Josh. "They'll do for bait."

"Got three of 'em," said the man, dashing his great landing-net about in the water for some reason that d.i.c.k did not understand, and directly after three curious looking, long, slender creatures of the cuttle-fish tribe were in d.i.c.k's net, and he was just drawing them in when--_spatter_!--one of them discharged a shower of black inky fluid, a good deal of which fell upon Arthur's trousers, and filled him with disgust.

"Bang 'em 'bout a bit in the water, Master Richard, sir," cried Josh.

"He didn't half give it 'em; p'r'aps neither of the others arn't made their cloud."

Instructed by Will, d.i.c.k splashed the net down in the water, with the result that it became discoloured with a black cloud, another of these curious looking creatures not having discharged its ink.

"Penanink fish, we calls 'em," said Josh laughing, and turning away his face, for he could not help enjoying the disgust shown by Arthur.

"Make capital bait, Master Richard," said Will, carefully storing the squid away in the locker of the boat.

"Here's some cuttle for you too," shouted Pollard; and this time a couple of cuttle-fish were pa.s.sed on; but before they reached the boat, taught by experience, Arthur carefully got behind his father, making him a shield against the inky shower which did not come.

As soon as it was safe he emerged, though, and eagerly stood looking on as d.i.c.k and his father examined the curious creatures, which looked like soft bags, with so many sucker-covered arms hanging out all ready to seize upon the first hapless fish that came their way, and drag them to their mouths.

"What! is that its mouth?" cried Arthur. "It looks just like a parrot's beak."