"Are those the lines?" he said, gazing at them curiously.

"Yes, sir; and we've got some oilskin ap.r.o.ns for you to put on, so as you sha'n't get wet."

"Ap.r.o.ns!" cried Arthur aghast.

"Yes, sir; they be good uns too."

"I shall not put on an ap.r.o.n," was upon Arthur's lips, but he did not say it; and just then his attention was taken by a short thick truncheon, with a curious notch or fork at the handle end.

"What's that for?"

"Little end's disgorger," said Josh; "t'other's to knock the congers down with."

"To knock the congers down!" cried Arthur aghast.

"Yes, when we get hold of a big one. They're gashly strong, sir."

"Why, how big are they?" cried Arthur.

"Five foot, six foot, seven foot sometimes," said Josh coolly.

Arthur's first thought was to say, "Here, take me back;" but he caught his brother's eye, and suppressed the words.

"I--I did not know they were so big as that," he faltered, though he tried to say it with firmness and a show of resolve.

"They run big, sir, off our coast, and we get some gashly fellows, often," said Josh innocently; "but you see, big as they are, men's stronger, and boys too. Why, our Will would tackle any conger as ever swam about a rock. Takes hold of disgorger like this, you know, and gives one on the head, and that quiets 'em while we get the hook out."

"With--with the disgorger?" said Arthur.

"That's it, Master Taff," said Josh.

"My name is Arthur--Arthur Temple," said the boy haughtily.

"'Course it is, sir; I ought to have known," said Josh. "It was along of Master d.i.c.k, there, calling you by t'other name. As I was saying,"

he continued hastily, "Will there gives them a tap with the disgorger, and then holds them under his boot, runs this here down till it touches the hook where they've swallowed it, takes a turn or two of the line round the handle and twists the hook out."

"Why don't you take the hook out properly--the same as I should from a fish?"

"What--with your fingers, sir?"

"Of course."

"A mussy me!" said Josh. "Why, don't you know how a conger can bite?"

"Bite! No," said Arthur, turning pale. "Can they bite?"

"Bite!" cried Josh. "Why, love your heart, young gentleman, look ye here. See this?"

He held up one of the hooks at the end of the conger-line and showed the boy that not only was it very large, and tied on strong cord with a swivel or two, but it was bound from the shank some distance up the line with bra.s.s wire.

"Yes, I can see it," said Arthur, "of course. Isn't it too big? A fish would not take a great awkward thing like that in its mouth."

"Won't it?" said Josh laughing. "But it will if you put a pilchar' on it. That there wire as is run round the line is to keep the congers from biting it in two."

"Oh! but, Josh, a conger wouldn't bite through a line like that, would he?" cried d.i.c.k as he tugged at his oar.

"Just as easy, sir, as you would through a bit o' cotton after you'd sewed a b.u.t.ton on your shirt."

"Why, they must be regular nippers!" cried d.i.c.k.

"Nippers, sir? Why, they go at a big dead fish if it's lying in the water, take a good mouthful, and then set their long bodies and tails to work, and spin round and round like a gimlet or a ship augur, and bore the piece right out."

"Oh! I say, Josh, don't you know! He's making that story up, isn't he, Will?"

"No," said Will seriously; "it is quite true. Congers have a way of spinning themselves round like that. Don't you see those swivels on the line?"

"Yes," said d.i.c.k, "I see 'em."

"That's because the congers spin round so. If we did not use swivels they'd twist the line all in a tangle before you could get them out."

"Why, they're regular sea-serpents," said d.i.c.k.

"Well, no," said Josh; "they ain't so big as sea-sarpents, because they say they're hundreds o' yards long. I never see one, but I've heerd say so; but congers will bite and no mistake. I had one ketch me by the boot once, and he bit right through the leather."

All this while they were rowing farther and farther from the sh.o.r.e, on about as lovely an evening as it was possible to imagine, and the warm glow of the sunshine prevented Arthur's face from looking ghastly white.

He felt that he must beg of them to turn back directly--that he dared not go farther; and yet there was a greater fear still to keep him silent. If he begged of them to row back they would laugh at him for a coward, and he could not bear this.

"Fishing!" he thought; why, it was like going to attack some horrible pack of sea-monsters in their rocky fastnesses; and instead of being dressed in flannels, he felt that he ought to be clothed in complete armour. Why, if a conger could bite through a line, what would he think of flannel trousers? And if one got tight hold of his flesh, what would be the consequences?

Arthur sat there with his mouth dry and his eyes staring as, in imagination, he saw one of the great slimy creatures twisting itself round and round, and cutting a great piece out of one of his legs; and it was all he could do to keep from shuddering with fear.

And all the while there was d.i.c.k with a red face, and his hat stuck right at the back of his head, tugging away at his oar, and smiling at all Josh said.

"I must try and be as brave as d.i.c.k is," Arthur said to himself; and forcing his teeth firmly together, he began to plan in his own mind what he would do if d.i.c.k caught a conger. He would have his penknife ready in his hand, and pretend to help pull in the line; and while he was doing this he would cut it and the monster would swim away.

"Don't you be scared about the congers, Master Taffarthur, sir," said Josh kindly. "They be gashly ugly things to tackle sometimes, but--"

"I'm not afraid," said Arthur indignantly.

"Not you, sir. Why should you be?" said Josh. "We can manage them. A big one has a nasty way of his own of getting loose in the boat and wriggling himself all about under the thwarts--"

Arthur involuntarily began to draw up his legs, as he felt as if one were already loose in the bottom of the boat.

"But just you look ye here," continued Josh, opening the little locker in the stern of the boat. "This is how I serves the big jockeys who'd be likely to give any trouble. I just give them a cut behind the head with this little fellow, and then they lie quiet enough."

As he spoke he showed Arthur a little axe with a very small head, and an edge as keen as a knife.

"That's too much for congers," added Josh.