Chapter Eighteen.

Chapter Eighteen.Mack’rel in the bay—And the seine fairplay—And a haul for our wives and bairns.If you want to go to a place where the air you breathe seems to till your veins with joy, and you begin to tingle with a desire to be up and doing something, go down into Cornwall, where the breeze seems to sparkle and effervesce like the waves that beat upon the rocky shore, and from whose crests it bears off the health-giving ozone to mix with the fragrant scent of the wild thyme and heather of the hills and barren moors. The sea never looks two days alike: now it is glistening like frosted silver, now it is as liquid gold. At one time it is ruddy like wine, at another time rich orange or amber, and a few hours after intensely blue, as if the sky had fallen or joined it then and there. Only in storm time is it thick and muddy, as it is in other parts of our coast, and even then it is not long before it settles down once more to its crystal purity.“Ahoy-ay! Ahoy-ay!”A musical chorus, softened by distance as it came off the sea, awakened Dick Temple from dreams of boats and mines, and rocks, and caves full of cuttle-fish, crabs, and seals, so big that they seemed monsters of the deep.The window was open, for he had left it so when he had scrambled out of his clothes and jumped into bed.Then Arthur, who was calmly folding his garments, or rather his brother’s, had quietly gone across the room and shut the window.“The night air is dangerous,” he said.“No, it isn’t,” said Dick. “It’s all fancy.”“I wish the window to be shut,” said Arthur with dignity.“Oh, very well!” said Dick drowsily; and his brother went on talking.“Papa has sent for a suit of flannels and a suit of tweeds for me, for I suppose I must wear them while we are down amongst these savages.”The bed creaked and squeaked a little, consequent upon Dick rolling about and laughing; but Arthur was at work with two hair-brushes upon his head, and did not hear.“I have sent word that the tailor is to make an outside breast-pocket for my handkerchief, and that the flannels are to be edged and bound with black.”Dick’s head had been half under the clothes, but he popped it out now to raise himself up a little and say:“Oh, won’t you look lovely!”Then the bed creaked again as Dick dropped down, his brother not condescending to notice his frivolous remark.A few minutes later and Arthur had deliberately climbed into bed, yawned, dropped asleep, and Dick had rolled out on his side.“I don’t mean to be smothered when there’s such lots of beautiful air outside,” he muttered; and he softly opened the window once more, jumped into bed, fell asleep directly, and was awakened by the musical chorus off the sea.“Oh, I say, what a morning!” he cried as he drew up the blind and saw that about a dozen luggers were coming in from the fishing-ground, where they had been all night, while the sun was turning the bay into one sparkling sheet of glory. “Here! Ahoy! Hi! Rouse up, Arthur. Come and have a bathe.”He made a bound at his brother, and punched and shook him, with the result that Arthur shut his eyes more tightly and hit out at him savagely.“Get up, or you sha’n’t have any clothes,” cried Dick, trying to drag them off; but—Whuff, huff, bang! down came one of the pillows upon his head, and Arthur rolled himself in the clothes and settled himself for another sleep.“Oh, sleep away, then!” cried Dick. “Here, hi! Will! Where are you going?”“To bathe,” said Will. “Come!”“Down in a minute,” cried Dick; and deferring all washing till he could get plenty of water out in the bay, he thrust a comb in his pocket, a towel under his arm, and ran down-stairs.“A nasty old nuisance!” grumbled Arthur, getting out of bed like a badly made parcel, with sheet, blanket, and patchwork quilt rolled round him; and as he shut the window with a bang he could see his brother and Will trudging towards the harbour.“I’ll just have another five minutes, and then I’ll get up and dress, and go and meet them,” yawned Arthur; then he rolled on to the bed and went off fast asleep.“Goin’ to have a bathe?” said Josh, who was mopping out the boat.“Yes. Good-morning! How are you?” cried Dick.“Just nicely, lad,” sang Josh. “Here, I don’t mind rowing you out if you’ll promise to bring me half ounce o’ the best ’bacco next time you come.”“I’ll bring it,” said Dick eagerly; and jumping into the boat, Josh rowed the boys out half a mile or so, and then in they went with a plunge off the boat’s side, and down into the invigorating clear cool water, to come up again and swim steadily off side by side, Dick being a pretty fair swimmer, though in his modesty he had disclaimed the accomplishment. And as the boys swam, Josh had steadily rowed after them, so that when they had had enough the boat was at hand for them to climb in, have a good towel, scrub, and dress.“Why don’t you have a bathe, Josh?” cried Dick, panting with his exertions. “It’s lovely.”“Yes, a good bathe be lovely,” said Josh; “but I don’t bathe much. I be delicate.”He said it so seriously that Dick never thought of laughing, though Josh seemed solid and hard as wood, which in truth he was.“Look yonder, lad!” he cried; “see him on the cliff;” and putting the handle of one oar under his leg, he pointed towards the shore west of the village.“Yes, I can see him: what’s he doing?”“Signalling,” cried Josh excitedly; “it’s mack’rel.”“What—up there?” cried Dick.“No, no, lad; in the bay. He can see fish, and he’s signalling.”“But he can’t see fish in the bay up there.”“Oh, yes! he can. Colour of the water, my lad. He can see a school, and—All right! The lads have seen. There goes the seine-boat.”He pointed to a large boat that seemed laden with something brown. There were several men in her, and they had pushed off, and were rowing steadily out towards the middle of the bay, the water that they lifted with their oars flashing like silver in the sunshine.“I can see the school, Josh,” said Will. “There, just beyond Dallow buoy;” and he stood up pointing with his hand, while the man on the cliff seemed to have a bunch of something in each hand, and to be turning himself into a human semaphore.“Right, lad! There’s the school,” said Josh, who had also risen in the boat, and was shading his eyes with his hand. “See, Master Dick?”“No, I can’t see anything.”“What—not out yonder, to left of that buoy?”“I can see the water looks dark and rippled,” said Dick.“That’s them, lad. That’s the school o’ mack’rel, and I shouldn’t wonder if they come right on the flat rock sand.”“What—out of the water?”“Out of the water? No. Not unless they are catched, and then they’ll come out of the water fast enough.”“Look at that chap on the cliff!” cried Dick, as the man began waving what really were boughs of heather up and down.“Yes, he’s signalling away to them in the boat. He can see the school. P’r’aps they can’t; and he’s telling ’em which way to row.”“But what are they going to do?” cried Dick.“Do? Why, try and catch that school of mack’rel. Can’t you see the seine?”“What—the net?” said Dick.“Yes; that’s it—hundreds of yards of it. Can you see which way the school’s going?”“Right up to the head of the bay,” replied Will.“Then they are going over the sands, and the lads’ll get them. Can’t shoot a seine if there’s rocks anywhere near,” added Josh for the visitor’s information. “Get the net torn, and the mack’rel would get out of the hole or under the bottom, where it rests on the rocks. You’d like to stop and see them shoot?”“What—the mackerel?” said Dick.“Yah! No; the net.”“Shoot it?” said Dick.“Yes; shoot it over into the sea.”“Oh! I understand,” said Dick; “but they shoot rubbish.”“Oh, they shoot rubbish, do they?” said Josh.“Yes, about London,” replied Dick. “Look how he’s waving his arms about.”“Yes. School’s going off another way. P’r’aps they mayn’t get a chance to shoot, for the school may go out to sea.”“Let’s row close up. I want to see,” cried Dick.“Nay, nay; we might be frightening the fish. Let’s wait and see first, and if they surround ’em then we’ll go close up. You sit still and watch.”The scene was worth watching on that bright morning, with the blue sky above, the glittering sea below, the village nestling in the cliffs, with its chimneys sending up their columns of smoke into the clear air; and at the foot of the cliff, as if seeking its protection, lay the little fishing fleet, with its brown sails giving warmth and colour to as bonny an English landscape as could well be seen. There up aloft, where the hill cliff was purple and gold and grey with heath and furze and crag, was the man with the bushes, signalling to his comrades in the boat, which seemed to be crawling slowly along, the piled-up filmy brown net, lying in a clumsy heap, so it seemed, but really in carefully laid-out folds, with every rope in place ready for the work to be done.Uncle Abram’s boat was allowed to drift with the current as its three occupants watched the proceedings, Will with the more interest that his uncle had a share in the seine, that is to say, he found so many score yards of which its length was composed, and consequently would take his proportion of the profits if the mackerel were caught.“She’s going right for the sands,” cried Josh excitedly. “They’ll have a fine haul. See ’em, lad—see ’em?”“Yes, I can see the dark ripple of the water gradually going along,” said Dick eagerly. “Oh, I do wish we were nearer!”“You’ll be near enough, lad, when the seine gets to work. Perhaps we shall have to be farther away. Look at ’em; how pretty they come! And you, Will, are always thinking about mines, and stones, and holes in the earth, when you’ve got a sight like that before you, boy. Eh! but I’m ashamed of you!”Will laughed and stood watching the school, and answering Dick’s questions.“What are they going to do? Wait and you’ll see.”“Oh, no! the fish don’t run their heads through these nets and get caught by the gills. Those are drift-nets. This is a seine, and made with smaller meshes. It’s stronger, too, and has a rope top and bottom. Now, look, they’re getting close enough in. They daren’t go any nearer for fear of frightening the fish. Now, see, they’re beginning to shoot the net.”For the first time Dick saw that there was a little boat with the big one, and that this little boat had two men in it, who seemed to be stopping in one place, while the big boat was being rowed away from them. Then over the stern a couple of men were passing what seemed to be an enormous brown rope, which they kept shaking as it went over and down into the sea, sinking at once all but what looked like a row of dots on the water right away to the little boat, which now seemed to be connected with the big one by the row of dots.“That’s the seine-net they’re shooting overboard,” said Will. “It has corks all along the top, and these keep the top edge level with the water, while all the rest sinks right down to the bottom. It’s shallow enough over the sands here for the net to touch the bottom.”“I see!” cried Dick excitedly. “And they are going to row right round the shoal of fish and make a regular fence of net about them, so as they can’t get away.”“A mussy me!” cried Josh smiling. “Why, I’m getting quite proud o’ you, Master Dick. You might ha’ been born a fisherman.”“But will the net be long enough to go right round?” said Dick.“No, perhaps not; but they’ll manage that if they’re lucky.”The scene was exciting enough to chain the interest of those in the boat, while quite a crowd gathered on the cliff to witness the capture—one which meant money and support to a good many families; for there would be basketing and carting to the far-off station, to send the take to the big towns, if a take it should prove to be. And so all watched as the large boat was rowed steadily, its heap of net growing lower, and the row of dot-like corks that trailed from behind getting longer and longer, and gradually taking the shape of a half-moon.The little boat remained nearly stationary, only drawing a trifle towards where Dick and his companions were; but the big boat continued its course, and so did the shoal of mackerel, making a beautiful ripple on the surface, that seemed as changeful as the ripple marks on their own backs, and in happy unconsciousness of the fact that their way back to sea was being steadily shut off, and that there were baskets getting ready, and horses being fed to bear them to the train, so that the next morning they would be glittering on stalls in busy towns both far and near.It was a long but carefully-executed piece of work, the large boat making a very wide circuit, so as not to alarm the fish, now about the centre of a semicircle of net.“But suppose the net should be twisted,” said Dick excitedly, “and not reach the bottom—what then?”“Then when the mackerel were scared they’d swim about and find the hole, and go through it like the tide between a couple of rocks,” replied Will. “But the men wouldn’t let the net go down twisted; they’re too used to shooting it.”“All out now,” said Josh at last. “They’ll lose the school if they don’t mind. Look yonder.”Dick glanced in the direction indicated, and saw that the man on the cliff was now telegraphing wildly with his boughs, and the men in the seine-boat seemed to let out a long rope, for there was a good space between them and the row of corks.The two men in the little boat seemed to do the same, and as the two boats were some distance to right and left of Dick and his companions, it seemed as if they meant to come up close with them.“Josh! Josh! the school’s heading this way,” cried Will; “they’ll lose ’em.”Josh jumped down into the seat, seized the oars, and began to row steadily right across the head of the ripple, just as a hail came first from the big boat and then from the small.Josh rowed about twenty or thirty yards, and then began to back water, going over the ground again, while the big and little boats steadily rowed on.“They’re gone, Josh!” cried Will, as the ripple on the surface suddenly ceased.“Maybe they’ll come up again, my lad,” said Josh. “I’ll keep on,” and he went on rowing first towards the large boat, then towards the small, as they slowly toiled on, trying to get nearer to each other and Uncle Abram’s boat, which was just about intermediate.If they could once join and form a circle, even if part of it were only the net ropes, the fish would be inclosed, and instead of making for the unfinished part of the circle where there was only rope, they would avoid it and the boats, and make for the other side.“All right, Josh! they’re showing again,” cried Will, for the dreaded catastrophe had not taken place—the fish had not gone down and swum away beneath the boats.“Keep wi’ us, lad!” came a musical hail to Josh, “and we shall do it yet.”“Ay, ay!” shouted back Josh; and like a sentry he kept going to and fro, with the boats closing up, yard by yard, but slowly, for they had the weight of the widely-spread net to check their progress.They were forty yards from Uncle Abram’s boat on either side, and it seemed a long time before they were twenty, and all the while this was the most dangerous time, for the alarmed shoal was beginning to swim to and fro. Then all at once they disappeared from the surface again, and Dick thought they were gone.But the fishermen pulled steadily still, and their companions in the stern of each boat kept the line tighter, and just as they were now getting closer the mackerel showed again, making the water flicker as if a violent storm of rain were falling.“Back out, lad, and go to port,” said the captain of the seine-boat; and Josh rowed steadily along close to the line, pausing half-way between the seine-boat and the beginning of the corks, that is, of the net.The men in the little boat just at the same time passed their rope on board to their friends, and then went off to the right, to pause half-way, as Josh had done to the left.Meanwhile the men on the seine-boat began to haul steadily at the ropes at each end, drawing the great circle narrower.“Why, how big is this net round?” said Dick in a whisper, as if he feared alarming the fish.“Mile,” said Josh laconically, “ropes and all.”“But they are drawing the ropes in fast now,” said Will, “and when they get the spreaders together it will be seven hundred yards.”“What are the spreaders?”“Long poles to keep the ends of the net stretched. They’ve got lead at the bottom, like the net, to keep them on the sand.”“Look out!” shouted the captain of the seine. “Here they come!”The men hauled the harder, and oars were splashed in all three boats, the smaller rowing to and fro, with the result that the surface of the water became calm once more, not the sign of a ripple to betoken the presence of a fish; but no one ceased his efforts.“Are they gone, Will?” asked Dick.“No, they’ve only gone below; they’re hunting all about the seine for a hole to escape, and the thing is now whether they follow it on to one of the ends: if they do, it’s only follow my leader, not one will be left.”It was a long job, but the men worked with all their might, keeping up their steady strain at the ropes, and gradually reducing the circle, till at last the two ends of the net were brought together and made to overlap safely, but there was not a sign of the fish.“They’ve got away,” said Dick.“I’m afraid so,” said Will, for there was an ominous silence among the fishermen, who had been at work all this while apparently for nothing. Then all at once there was a loud cheer, for the shoal, a very large one, suddenly appeared at the top again, fretting the water as the fish swam here and there, shut-up as they were in an irregular circle about two hundred yards across, and hopelessly entangled, for if there had been a loophole of escape they would have found it now.“There won’t be no storm to-day,” said Josh, looking round, “so they’ve got them safe, and now, my lads, what do you say to a bit o’ brexfass?”“Breakfast!” cried Dick. “Oh! I had forgotten all about that. I must go ashore; but I should have liked to see them get the mackerel out.”“Oh! you’ll have plenty of time for that,” said Josh, beginning to row for the harbour and going close by the seine-boat, whose captain hailed them.“Thank ye, lads,” he cried. “You, Will Marion, tell your uncle we’ve got as pretty a school as has been took this year.”“Ay, ay!” shouted Will. Then taking one oar he rowed hard, and in a few minutes they were at the harbour, the pier being covered with the fisher folk.“Best take this year,” sang Josh in answer to a storm of inquiries; and then Will sprang up the steps, to run home with a shield of good news to ward off the angry points that Aunt Ruth was waiting to discharge at him for not coming home to his meals in time.The first faces Dick saw on the pier were those of his father and Arthur.“I am so sorry, father!” began Dick.“You’ve not kept me waiting, my boy,” said Mr Temple kindly. “I’ve been watching the fishing from the cliff.”“You might have told me that you were going to see some seine-fishing,” said Arthur in an ill-used tone, as they entered the inn parlour, where breakfast was waiting.“Didn’t know myself,” cried Dick. “Why, it’s ten o’clock! Oh! I am so hungry!”

If you want to go to a place where the air you breathe seems to till your veins with joy, and you begin to tingle with a desire to be up and doing something, go down into Cornwall, where the breeze seems to sparkle and effervesce like the waves that beat upon the rocky shore, and from whose crests it bears off the health-giving ozone to mix with the fragrant scent of the wild thyme and heather of the hills and barren moors. The sea never looks two days alike: now it is glistening like frosted silver, now it is as liquid gold. At one time it is ruddy like wine, at another time rich orange or amber, and a few hours after intensely blue, as if the sky had fallen or joined it then and there. Only in storm time is it thick and muddy, as it is in other parts of our coast, and even then it is not long before it settles down once more to its crystal purity.

“Ahoy-ay! Ahoy-ay!”

A musical chorus, softened by distance as it came off the sea, awakened Dick Temple from dreams of boats and mines, and rocks, and caves full of cuttle-fish, crabs, and seals, so big that they seemed monsters of the deep.

The window was open, for he had left it so when he had scrambled out of his clothes and jumped into bed.

Then Arthur, who was calmly folding his garments, or rather his brother’s, had quietly gone across the room and shut the window.

“The night air is dangerous,” he said.

“No, it isn’t,” said Dick. “It’s all fancy.”

“I wish the window to be shut,” said Arthur with dignity.

“Oh, very well!” said Dick drowsily; and his brother went on talking.

“Papa has sent for a suit of flannels and a suit of tweeds for me, for I suppose I must wear them while we are down amongst these savages.”

The bed creaked and squeaked a little, consequent upon Dick rolling about and laughing; but Arthur was at work with two hair-brushes upon his head, and did not hear.

“I have sent word that the tailor is to make an outside breast-pocket for my handkerchief, and that the flannels are to be edged and bound with black.”

Dick’s head had been half under the clothes, but he popped it out now to raise himself up a little and say:

“Oh, won’t you look lovely!”

Then the bed creaked again as Dick dropped down, his brother not condescending to notice his frivolous remark.

A few minutes later and Arthur had deliberately climbed into bed, yawned, dropped asleep, and Dick had rolled out on his side.

“I don’t mean to be smothered when there’s such lots of beautiful air outside,” he muttered; and he softly opened the window once more, jumped into bed, fell asleep directly, and was awakened by the musical chorus off the sea.

“Oh, I say, what a morning!” he cried as he drew up the blind and saw that about a dozen luggers were coming in from the fishing-ground, where they had been all night, while the sun was turning the bay into one sparkling sheet of glory. “Here! Ahoy! Hi! Rouse up, Arthur. Come and have a bathe.”

He made a bound at his brother, and punched and shook him, with the result that Arthur shut his eyes more tightly and hit out at him savagely.

“Get up, or you sha’n’t have any clothes,” cried Dick, trying to drag them off; but—Whuff, huff, bang! down came one of the pillows upon his head, and Arthur rolled himself in the clothes and settled himself for another sleep.

“Oh, sleep away, then!” cried Dick. “Here, hi! Will! Where are you going?”

“To bathe,” said Will. “Come!”

“Down in a minute,” cried Dick; and deferring all washing till he could get plenty of water out in the bay, he thrust a comb in his pocket, a towel under his arm, and ran down-stairs.

“A nasty old nuisance!” grumbled Arthur, getting out of bed like a badly made parcel, with sheet, blanket, and patchwork quilt rolled round him; and as he shut the window with a bang he could see his brother and Will trudging towards the harbour.

“I’ll just have another five minutes, and then I’ll get up and dress, and go and meet them,” yawned Arthur; then he rolled on to the bed and went off fast asleep.

“Goin’ to have a bathe?” said Josh, who was mopping out the boat.

“Yes. Good-morning! How are you?” cried Dick.

“Just nicely, lad,” sang Josh. “Here, I don’t mind rowing you out if you’ll promise to bring me half ounce o’ the best ’bacco next time you come.”

“I’ll bring it,” said Dick eagerly; and jumping into the boat, Josh rowed the boys out half a mile or so, and then in they went with a plunge off the boat’s side, and down into the invigorating clear cool water, to come up again and swim steadily off side by side, Dick being a pretty fair swimmer, though in his modesty he had disclaimed the accomplishment. And as the boys swam, Josh had steadily rowed after them, so that when they had had enough the boat was at hand for them to climb in, have a good towel, scrub, and dress.

“Why don’t you have a bathe, Josh?” cried Dick, panting with his exertions. “It’s lovely.”

“Yes, a good bathe be lovely,” said Josh; “but I don’t bathe much. I be delicate.”

He said it so seriously that Dick never thought of laughing, though Josh seemed solid and hard as wood, which in truth he was.

“Look yonder, lad!” he cried; “see him on the cliff;” and putting the handle of one oar under his leg, he pointed towards the shore west of the village.

“Yes, I can see him: what’s he doing?”

“Signalling,” cried Josh excitedly; “it’s mack’rel.”

“What—up there?” cried Dick.

“No, no, lad; in the bay. He can see fish, and he’s signalling.”

“But he can’t see fish in the bay up there.”

“Oh, yes! he can. Colour of the water, my lad. He can see a school, and—All right! The lads have seen. There goes the seine-boat.”

He pointed to a large boat that seemed laden with something brown. There were several men in her, and they had pushed off, and were rowing steadily out towards the middle of the bay, the water that they lifted with their oars flashing like silver in the sunshine.

“I can see the school, Josh,” said Will. “There, just beyond Dallow buoy;” and he stood up pointing with his hand, while the man on the cliff seemed to have a bunch of something in each hand, and to be turning himself into a human semaphore.

“Right, lad! There’s the school,” said Josh, who had also risen in the boat, and was shading his eyes with his hand. “See, Master Dick?”

“No, I can’t see anything.”

“What—not out yonder, to left of that buoy?”

“I can see the water looks dark and rippled,” said Dick.

“That’s them, lad. That’s the school o’ mack’rel, and I shouldn’t wonder if they come right on the flat rock sand.”

“What—out of the water?”

“Out of the water? No. Not unless they are catched, and then they’ll come out of the water fast enough.”

“Look at that chap on the cliff!” cried Dick, as the man began waving what really were boughs of heather up and down.

“Yes, he’s signalling away to them in the boat. He can see the school. P’r’aps they can’t; and he’s telling ’em which way to row.”

“But what are they going to do?” cried Dick.

“Do? Why, try and catch that school of mack’rel. Can’t you see the seine?”

“What—the net?” said Dick.

“Yes; that’s it—hundreds of yards of it. Can you see which way the school’s going?”

“Right up to the head of the bay,” replied Will.

“Then they are going over the sands, and the lads’ll get them. Can’t shoot a seine if there’s rocks anywhere near,” added Josh for the visitor’s information. “Get the net torn, and the mack’rel would get out of the hole or under the bottom, where it rests on the rocks. You’d like to stop and see them shoot?”

“What—the mackerel?” said Dick.

“Yah! No; the net.”

“Shoot it?” said Dick.

“Yes; shoot it over into the sea.”

“Oh! I understand,” said Dick; “but they shoot rubbish.”

“Oh, they shoot rubbish, do they?” said Josh.

“Yes, about London,” replied Dick. “Look how he’s waving his arms about.”

“Yes. School’s going off another way. P’r’aps they mayn’t get a chance to shoot, for the school may go out to sea.”

“Let’s row close up. I want to see,” cried Dick.

“Nay, nay; we might be frightening the fish. Let’s wait and see first, and if they surround ’em then we’ll go close up. You sit still and watch.”

The scene was worth watching on that bright morning, with the blue sky above, the glittering sea below, the village nestling in the cliffs, with its chimneys sending up their columns of smoke into the clear air; and at the foot of the cliff, as if seeking its protection, lay the little fishing fleet, with its brown sails giving warmth and colour to as bonny an English landscape as could well be seen. There up aloft, where the hill cliff was purple and gold and grey with heath and furze and crag, was the man with the bushes, signalling to his comrades in the boat, which seemed to be crawling slowly along, the piled-up filmy brown net, lying in a clumsy heap, so it seemed, but really in carefully laid-out folds, with every rope in place ready for the work to be done.

Uncle Abram’s boat was allowed to drift with the current as its three occupants watched the proceedings, Will with the more interest that his uncle had a share in the seine, that is to say, he found so many score yards of which its length was composed, and consequently would take his proportion of the profits if the mackerel were caught.

“She’s going right for the sands,” cried Josh excitedly. “They’ll have a fine haul. See ’em, lad—see ’em?”

“Yes, I can see the dark ripple of the water gradually going along,” said Dick eagerly. “Oh, I do wish we were nearer!”

“You’ll be near enough, lad, when the seine gets to work. Perhaps we shall have to be farther away. Look at ’em; how pretty they come! And you, Will, are always thinking about mines, and stones, and holes in the earth, when you’ve got a sight like that before you, boy. Eh! but I’m ashamed of you!”

Will laughed and stood watching the school, and answering Dick’s questions.

“What are they going to do? Wait and you’ll see.”

“Oh, no! the fish don’t run their heads through these nets and get caught by the gills. Those are drift-nets. This is a seine, and made with smaller meshes. It’s stronger, too, and has a rope top and bottom. Now, look, they’re getting close enough in. They daren’t go any nearer for fear of frightening the fish. Now, see, they’re beginning to shoot the net.”

For the first time Dick saw that there was a little boat with the big one, and that this little boat had two men in it, who seemed to be stopping in one place, while the big boat was being rowed away from them. Then over the stern a couple of men were passing what seemed to be an enormous brown rope, which they kept shaking as it went over and down into the sea, sinking at once all but what looked like a row of dots on the water right away to the little boat, which now seemed to be connected with the big one by the row of dots.

“That’s the seine-net they’re shooting overboard,” said Will. “It has corks all along the top, and these keep the top edge level with the water, while all the rest sinks right down to the bottom. It’s shallow enough over the sands here for the net to touch the bottom.”

“I see!” cried Dick excitedly. “And they are going to row right round the shoal of fish and make a regular fence of net about them, so as they can’t get away.”

“A mussy me!” cried Josh smiling. “Why, I’m getting quite proud o’ you, Master Dick. You might ha’ been born a fisherman.”

“But will the net be long enough to go right round?” said Dick.

“No, perhaps not; but they’ll manage that if they’re lucky.”

The scene was exciting enough to chain the interest of those in the boat, while quite a crowd gathered on the cliff to witness the capture—one which meant money and support to a good many families; for there would be basketing and carting to the far-off station, to send the take to the big towns, if a take it should prove to be. And so all watched as the large boat was rowed steadily, its heap of net growing lower, and the row of dot-like corks that trailed from behind getting longer and longer, and gradually taking the shape of a half-moon.

The little boat remained nearly stationary, only drawing a trifle towards where Dick and his companions were; but the big boat continued its course, and so did the shoal of mackerel, making a beautiful ripple on the surface, that seemed as changeful as the ripple marks on their own backs, and in happy unconsciousness of the fact that their way back to sea was being steadily shut off, and that there were baskets getting ready, and horses being fed to bear them to the train, so that the next morning they would be glittering on stalls in busy towns both far and near.

It was a long but carefully-executed piece of work, the large boat making a very wide circuit, so as not to alarm the fish, now about the centre of a semicircle of net.

“But suppose the net should be twisted,” said Dick excitedly, “and not reach the bottom—what then?”

“Then when the mackerel were scared they’d swim about and find the hole, and go through it like the tide between a couple of rocks,” replied Will. “But the men wouldn’t let the net go down twisted; they’re too used to shooting it.”

“All out now,” said Josh at last. “They’ll lose the school if they don’t mind. Look yonder.”

Dick glanced in the direction indicated, and saw that the man on the cliff was now telegraphing wildly with his boughs, and the men in the seine-boat seemed to let out a long rope, for there was a good space between them and the row of corks.

The two men in the little boat seemed to do the same, and as the two boats were some distance to right and left of Dick and his companions, it seemed as if they meant to come up close with them.

“Josh! Josh! the school’s heading this way,” cried Will; “they’ll lose ’em.”

Josh jumped down into the seat, seized the oars, and began to row steadily right across the head of the ripple, just as a hail came first from the big boat and then from the small.

Josh rowed about twenty or thirty yards, and then began to back water, going over the ground again, while the big and little boats steadily rowed on.

“They’re gone, Josh!” cried Will, as the ripple on the surface suddenly ceased.

“Maybe they’ll come up again, my lad,” said Josh. “I’ll keep on,” and he went on rowing first towards the large boat, then towards the small, as they slowly toiled on, trying to get nearer to each other and Uncle Abram’s boat, which was just about intermediate.

If they could once join and form a circle, even if part of it were only the net ropes, the fish would be inclosed, and instead of making for the unfinished part of the circle where there was only rope, they would avoid it and the boats, and make for the other side.

“All right, Josh! they’re showing again,” cried Will, for the dreaded catastrophe had not taken place—the fish had not gone down and swum away beneath the boats.

“Keep wi’ us, lad!” came a musical hail to Josh, “and we shall do it yet.”

“Ay, ay!” shouted back Josh; and like a sentry he kept going to and fro, with the boats closing up, yard by yard, but slowly, for they had the weight of the widely-spread net to check their progress.

They were forty yards from Uncle Abram’s boat on either side, and it seemed a long time before they were twenty, and all the while this was the most dangerous time, for the alarmed shoal was beginning to swim to and fro. Then all at once they disappeared from the surface again, and Dick thought they were gone.

But the fishermen pulled steadily still, and their companions in the stern of each boat kept the line tighter, and just as they were now getting closer the mackerel showed again, making the water flicker as if a violent storm of rain were falling.

“Back out, lad, and go to port,” said the captain of the seine-boat; and Josh rowed steadily along close to the line, pausing half-way between the seine-boat and the beginning of the corks, that is, of the net.

The men in the little boat just at the same time passed their rope on board to their friends, and then went off to the right, to pause half-way, as Josh had done to the left.

Meanwhile the men on the seine-boat began to haul steadily at the ropes at each end, drawing the great circle narrower.

“Why, how big is this net round?” said Dick in a whisper, as if he feared alarming the fish.

“Mile,” said Josh laconically, “ropes and all.”

“But they are drawing the ropes in fast now,” said Will, “and when they get the spreaders together it will be seven hundred yards.”

“What are the spreaders?”

“Long poles to keep the ends of the net stretched. They’ve got lead at the bottom, like the net, to keep them on the sand.”

“Look out!” shouted the captain of the seine. “Here they come!”

The men hauled the harder, and oars were splashed in all three boats, the smaller rowing to and fro, with the result that the surface of the water became calm once more, not the sign of a ripple to betoken the presence of a fish; but no one ceased his efforts.

“Are they gone, Will?” asked Dick.

“No, they’ve only gone below; they’re hunting all about the seine for a hole to escape, and the thing is now whether they follow it on to one of the ends: if they do, it’s only follow my leader, not one will be left.”

It was a long job, but the men worked with all their might, keeping up their steady strain at the ropes, and gradually reducing the circle, till at last the two ends of the net were brought together and made to overlap safely, but there was not a sign of the fish.

“They’ve got away,” said Dick.

“I’m afraid so,” said Will, for there was an ominous silence among the fishermen, who had been at work all this while apparently for nothing. Then all at once there was a loud cheer, for the shoal, a very large one, suddenly appeared at the top again, fretting the water as the fish swam here and there, shut-up as they were in an irregular circle about two hundred yards across, and hopelessly entangled, for if there had been a loophole of escape they would have found it now.

“There won’t be no storm to-day,” said Josh, looking round, “so they’ve got them safe, and now, my lads, what do you say to a bit o’ brexfass?”

“Breakfast!” cried Dick. “Oh! I had forgotten all about that. I must go ashore; but I should have liked to see them get the mackerel out.”

“Oh! you’ll have plenty of time for that,” said Josh, beginning to row for the harbour and going close by the seine-boat, whose captain hailed them.

“Thank ye, lads,” he cried. “You, Will Marion, tell your uncle we’ve got as pretty a school as has been took this year.”

“Ay, ay!” shouted Will. Then taking one oar he rowed hard, and in a few minutes they were at the harbour, the pier being covered with the fisher folk.

“Best take this year,” sang Josh in answer to a storm of inquiries; and then Will sprang up the steps, to run home with a shield of good news to ward off the angry points that Aunt Ruth was waiting to discharge at him for not coming home to his meals in time.

The first faces Dick saw on the pier were those of his father and Arthur.

“I am so sorry, father!” began Dick.

“You’ve not kept me waiting, my boy,” said Mr Temple kindly. “I’ve been watching the fishing from the cliff.”

“You might have told me that you were going to see some seine-fishing,” said Arthur in an ill-used tone, as they entered the inn parlour, where breakfast was waiting.

“Didn’t know myself,” cried Dick. “Why, it’s ten o’clock! Oh! I am so hungry!”

Chapter Nineteen.“A gashly great Fish in the Net.”There was quite enough interesting business to see after breakfast to make Mr Temple disposed to go out to the great seine, so that when, about eleven, Will came to the inn to say that he was just going out to the men, if Master Dick or Master Arthur would like to come, their father readily accepted the invitation for all three. So they were rowed out, to find the men very busy at work in boats beside the great circle of corks, shooting a smaller seine inside the big one; and this being at last completed, the small seine was drawn close, the lower rope contracted, and the fish huddled together so closely that a small boat was at work amongst them, the men literally dipping the struggling fish out of the water with huge landing-nets and baskets, the water flying, and the silvery, pearly fish sparkling in the sun.It was a most animated scene, for as a boat was loaded she went ashore, and the fish were rapidly counted, thrust into small stout hampers, tied down, and loaded on to carts waiting for their freight, and then off and away to the railway-station almost before the fish were dead.Josh and Will stood high in the good graces of the seine men for their help that morning, so that there was quite a welcome for the party in the boat as the corked line was pressed down, and Josh took the boat right into the charmed circle where the fish were darting to and fro in wild efforts to escape through the frail yielding wall of net that held them so securely.“I’ve got a net ready for you,” said Will, drawing a strong landing-net from under a piece of sail and handing it to Dick, who was soon after busily at work dashing it in and capturing the lovely arrowy fish in ones and twos and threes. Once he caught five at once, and drew them inboard for his father to admire the brilliancy of the colours upon the live fish, and the lovely purple ripple marks that died away on the sides in a sheen of pink and silver and gold.Now and then other fish were netted, but fish that had been surrounded with the mackerel. Several times over little stumpy red mullet were seen—brilliant little fish, and then grey mullet—large-scaled silvery fish with tiny mouths and something the aspect, on a large scale, of a river dace.The fishermen found time to good-naturedly call Josh when any particular prize of this kind was found, and the Temples had not been there long before, flapping, gasping, and staring, a very monster of ugliness was taken out in a landing-net, along with a score of mackerel.This flat-sided, great-eyed, big-headed creature, with a huge back fin, and general ugliness painted in it everywhere, had a dark mark on either side of the body; and though arrayed and burnished here and there with metallic colours, the fish was so grotesque that its beauties were quite ignored.“Ah! our friend John-Dory—Jean Doré, as the French call him—gilded John,” said Mr Temple. “A delicacy, but not a handsome fish. Look at the thumb and finger marks upon his side.”“Oh! but those are not finger marks,” cried Dick.“No,” said his father, “but they are quite near enough in appearance to make people say that this is the fish Peter caught, and held between his finger and thumb while he opened its mouth.”“Here y’are, sir!” shouted a fisherman. “Young gents like to see this?”Josh rowed the boat alongside and Dick held his net, while the fisherman laughingly turned into it from his own a great jelly-fish, as clear as crystal and glistening in the sun with iridescent colours of the loveliest hue.“Oh, what a beauty!” cried Dick. “Look, father, look!”“Yes; keep it in the water, you will see it to the best advantage there.”Dick 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 Dick 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 Dick; “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.Dick’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 Dick’s landing-net.“Why, it’s a kind of mackerel-looking fish,” said Dick, as he examined his fresh prize.“Ah! mind how you touch it!” cried Will, “it is very sharp and prickly.”“All right!” said Dick. “Oh! I say, though, it is sharp.”“Well, you were warned,” said Mr Temple, as Dick applied a bleeding finger to his mouth.“Yes, but I did not know it was so sharp as that,” said Dick. “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 Dick 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 bass.”The beautiful silvery fish was passed 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 passed it on to Josh, who ladled it into his own boat with the net borrowed from Dick.“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,Ishould say,” replied Josh. “They generally follows the herring and pilchards, and snatch ’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 Dick. What should you say that is?”“Don’t know,” said Dick, 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 wrasse, 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 themwraaghsorcurners, sir,” explained Will, colouring a little; “but the name in the natural history’s wrasse.”“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 Dick did not understand, and directly after three curious looking, long, slender creatures of the cuttle-fish tribe were in Dick’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, Dick 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 passed 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 Dick 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.”It was a good comparison, for there is great similarity between them.The short tentacles and the two longer ones, with which the cuttle is provided, were duly examined, and then they, murderers as they were of all things that came to their net, were condemned to be eaten in turn.“Which is only fair, is it, father?” said Dick laughing.“Quite fair, Dick,” he replied. “It seems to be the law of the sea; every fish eats those less than itself and gets eaten in its turn. The only thing with them is, that each one has some chance for its life, and lives as long as it can.”“I see once a very rum kind of a squid,” said Josh, who, while the mackerel catching went on and no more curiosities were turned out, seemed disposed to be communicative. “Reg’lar great one he was, at low water out Lizard way.”“Octopus, perhaps,” said Mr Temple.“No, sir—sort o’ squid-like, only very different. He was just like a dirty bag with eight arms hanging away from it, all covered like with suckers, and there was two great ugly eyes.”“It was an octopus from your description, my man,” said Mr Temple.“Was it now?” said Josh. “Well, I shouldn’t wonder, for it was a horrid gashly thing, and when I saw it first it was sitting in a pool of clear water, with a rock hanging over it, looking at me with its big eyes, and filling itself full of water and blowing it out.”“How large was it?”“’Bout as big as a bladder buoy, sir, with long arms all round twissening and twining about like snakes; and when I made up my mind that whether it come out and bit me or whether it didn’t, I’d stir it up, and I poked at it with a stick, if it didn’t shut itself up like and shoot through the water like an umbrella.”“Undoubtedly an octopus,” said Mr Temple; “that is its habit.”“Is it now?” said Josh. “Well, I shouldn’t have thought it. Seemed queer like for a thing with eight long legs to go zizzling through the water like a shut-up umbrella.”“Did you catch it?” said Dick.“No, Master Ritchard, sir, I didn’t ketch it, only poked at it like with a stick, for it didn’t seem good to eat, and it wasn’t the sort of thing you’d care to put in your pocket, even if you’d got one big enough, so I left it alone.”“I’ve heard that they grow very large in the neighbourhood of Jersey,” said Mr Temple.“Do they, though?” said Josh. “Well, they’re gashly things, and I don’t want to know any more of ’em. Squid and cuttle do very well for us ’bout here.”“Squid, as you call them, are found of immense size in the cold seas towards and in the Arctic circle, large enough, they say, to upset a boat.”“Then I’m glad this is not the Arctic circle,” cried Dick. “Only fancy having one of those things picking you out of a boat! Ugh!”He glanced at his brother and then laughed, for Arthur was looking rather white.“What say?” roared Josh as loud as he could to a man in a boat close by.“Gashly great fish in the net,” shouted back the man.“Gashly great fish in the net?” roared Josh.“Ay; gashly great fish in the net. Mick Polynack see um while ago.”After a few inquiries it was found that the men believed that the great seine had been drawn round some large fish, possibly a shark, and the excitement was great when, after emptying the tuck net, it was gathered in and the great seine drawn closer.This took a long time, but it was effected at last, the space inclosed being reduced to less than half the former size, and once more the busy scene went on, the mackerel being caught by hundreds, counted into baskets, tied down, and sent off; but though its appearance was eagerly looked for, no sign was given of the presence of the big fish, whatever it might be. More bass were found, and scad, and gurnard, and a long, thin, cod-fish-looking fellow was drawn napping and splashing from the sea, proving to be a ling. Then there was quite a sight of a little shoal of gar-fish or long-nose, which played about the top of the water for some time here and there in a state of excitement; and then there was a splashing and flashing, and one after the other they threw themselves over the cork-line and escaped to the open bay.“What a pity!” cried Arthur.“Oh! not much, sir. We don’t care a very great deal for ’em down here.”More squid, a cuttle or two, and several other fish of the varieties previously taken; and still, as if the supply was inexhaustible, the mackerel were ladled out as if from a huge basin with the great landing-nets.“There don’t seem to be any big fish here,” said Dick at last in disappointed tones, for he had lost all interest in smaller fry since he had heard the announcement of there being something larger inclosed in the net.“I should say it was a shark,” said Josh quietly, “he lies so quiet at the bottom.”The word shark was electrical, and sent a thrill of excitement through the little party.“But have you sharks off this coast, my man?” asked Mr Temple.“Not a great few, sir; but we sees one now and then, and times we hear of one being ketched.”“You mean dog-fish,” said Mr Temple.“Oh no! I don’t, sir,” cried Josh. “Real sharks.”“But only small ones.”“Yes, sir, small ones, big as Will there, and big ones, great as me, and three foot longer. Shouldn’t wonder if there was a big one in the net.”“But a large fish such as you speak of would go through the net as if it were a cobweb.”Will shook his head.“If the net was tight, sir, and the shark swam right at it, the meshes would give way; but they don’t seem to swim right at them, and the net goes with the fish like—yields to it—and does not break. It does sometimes, of course; but we’ve seen a big fish, a porpoise, regularly rolled up in a net and tied in so that it couldn’t move.”“Like a conger in a trammel,” assented Josh. “Fish is very stoopid, sir, and never thinks of getting out the way they go in.”All this while the seine was being contracted and drawn into the boat, where it was laid up like some gigantic brown skein, the men who were gathering it in shaking out the sea-weed and small fish that had enmeshed themselves and had forced their unfortunate heads in beyond the gills.“Here she be,” shouted one of the men, as there was a tremendous swirl in the water close by a boat.“All right!” said the captain of the seine, “we’ll have her bime-by;” and once more the collecting of the mackerel went on till the tremendous shoal that had been inclosed had exchanged places, and was pretty well all in the baskets that were still being rapidly despatched. And all this time the net had been more and more contracted, the bottom worked by the ropes, so that it was drawn closer and closer, and at last it was decided that the next thing to be done was to capture the large fish, whatever it was, and this they set about, as shall be told.

There was quite enough interesting business to see after breakfast to make Mr Temple disposed to go out to the great seine, so that when, about eleven, Will came to the inn to say that he was just going out to the men, if Master Dick or Master Arthur would like to come, their father readily accepted the invitation for all three. So they were rowed out, to find the men very busy at work in boats beside the great circle of corks, shooting a smaller seine inside the big one; and this being at last completed, the small seine was drawn close, the lower rope contracted, and the fish huddled together so closely that a small boat was at work amongst them, the men literally dipping the struggling fish out of the water with huge landing-nets and baskets, the water flying, and the silvery, pearly fish sparkling in the sun.

It was a most animated scene, for as a boat was loaded she went ashore, and the fish were rapidly counted, thrust into small stout hampers, tied down, and loaded on to carts waiting for their freight, and then off and away to the railway-station almost before the fish were dead.

Josh and Will stood high in the good graces of the seine men for their help that morning, so that there was quite a welcome for the party in the boat as the corked line was pressed down, and Josh took the boat right into the charmed circle where the fish were darting to and fro in wild efforts to escape through the frail yielding wall of net that held them so securely.

“I’ve got a net ready for you,” said Will, drawing a strong landing-net from under a piece of sail and handing it to Dick, who was soon after busily at work dashing it in and capturing the lovely arrowy fish in ones and twos and threes. Once he caught five at once, and drew them inboard for his father to admire the brilliancy of the colours upon the live fish, and the lovely purple ripple marks that died away on the sides in a sheen of pink and silver and gold.

Now and then other fish were netted, but fish that had been surrounded with the mackerel. Several times over little stumpy red mullet were seen—brilliant little fish, and then grey mullet—large-scaled silvery fish with tiny mouths and something the aspect, on a large scale, of a river dace.

The fishermen found time to good-naturedly call Josh when any particular prize of this kind was found, and the Temples had not been there long before, flapping, gasping, and staring, a very monster of ugliness was taken out in a landing-net, along with a score of mackerel.

This flat-sided, great-eyed, big-headed creature, with a huge back fin, and general ugliness painted in it everywhere, had a dark mark on either side of the body; and though arrayed and burnished here and there with metallic colours, the fish was so grotesque that its beauties were quite ignored.

“Ah! our friend John-Dory—Jean Doré, as the French call him—gilded John,” said Mr Temple. “A delicacy, but not a handsome fish. Look at the thumb and finger marks upon his side.”

“Oh! but those are not finger marks,” cried Dick.

“No,” said his father, “but they are quite near enough in appearance to make people say that this is the fish Peter caught, and held between his finger and thumb while he opened its mouth.”

“Here y’are, sir!” shouted a fisherman. “Young gents like to see this?”

Josh rowed the boat alongside and Dick held his net, while the fisherman laughingly turned into it from his own a great jelly-fish, as clear as crystal and glistening in the sun with iridescent colours of the loveliest hue.

“Oh, what a beauty!” cried Dick. “Look, father, look!”

“Yes; keep it in the water, you will see it to the best advantage there.”

Dick 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 Dick 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 Dick; “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.

Dick’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 Dick’s landing-net.

“Why, it’s a kind of mackerel-looking fish,” said Dick, as he examined his fresh prize.

“Ah! mind how you touch it!” cried Will, “it is very sharp and prickly.”

“All right!” said Dick. “Oh! I say, though, it is sharp.”

“Well, you were warned,” said Mr Temple, as Dick applied a bleeding finger to his mouth.

“Yes, but I did not know it was so sharp as that,” said Dick. “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 Dick 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 bass.”

The beautiful silvery fish was passed 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 passed it on to Josh, who ladled it into his own boat with the net borrowed from Dick.

“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,Ishould say,” replied Josh. “They generally follows the herring and pilchards, and snatch ’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 Dick. What should you say that is?”

“Don’t know,” said Dick, 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 wrasse, 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 themwraaghsorcurners, sir,” explained Will, colouring a little; “but the name in the natural history’s wrasse.”

“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 Dick did not understand, and directly after three curious looking, long, slender creatures of the cuttle-fish tribe were in Dick’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, Dick 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 passed 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 Dick 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.”

It was a good comparison, for there is great similarity between them.

The short tentacles and the two longer ones, with which the cuttle is provided, were duly examined, and then they, murderers as they were of all things that came to their net, were condemned to be eaten in turn.

“Which is only fair, is it, father?” said Dick laughing.

“Quite fair, Dick,” he replied. “It seems to be the law of the sea; every fish eats those less than itself and gets eaten in its turn. The only thing with them is, that each one has some chance for its life, and lives as long as it can.”

“I see once a very rum kind of a squid,” said Josh, who, while the mackerel catching went on and no more curiosities were turned out, seemed disposed to be communicative. “Reg’lar great one he was, at low water out Lizard way.”

“Octopus, perhaps,” said Mr Temple.

“No, sir—sort o’ squid-like, only very different. He was just like a dirty bag with eight arms hanging away from it, all covered like with suckers, and there was two great ugly eyes.”

“It was an octopus from your description, my man,” said Mr Temple.

“Was it now?” said Josh. “Well, I shouldn’t wonder, for it was a horrid gashly thing, and when I saw it first it was sitting in a pool of clear water, with a rock hanging over it, looking at me with its big eyes, and filling itself full of water and blowing it out.”

“How large was it?”

“’Bout as big as a bladder buoy, sir, with long arms all round twissening and twining about like snakes; and when I made up my mind that whether it come out and bit me or whether it didn’t, I’d stir it up, and I poked at it with a stick, if it didn’t shut itself up like and shoot through the water like an umbrella.”

“Undoubtedly an octopus,” said Mr Temple; “that is its habit.”

“Is it now?” said Josh. “Well, I shouldn’t have thought it. Seemed queer like for a thing with eight long legs to go zizzling through the water like a shut-up umbrella.”

“Did you catch it?” said Dick.

“No, Master Ritchard, sir, I didn’t ketch it, only poked at it like with a stick, for it didn’t seem good to eat, and it wasn’t the sort of thing you’d care to put in your pocket, even if you’d got one big enough, so I left it alone.”

“I’ve heard that they grow very large in the neighbourhood of Jersey,” said Mr Temple.

“Do they, though?” said Josh. “Well, they’re gashly things, and I don’t want to know any more of ’em. Squid and cuttle do very well for us ’bout here.”

“Squid, as you call them, are found of immense size in the cold seas towards and in the Arctic circle, large enough, they say, to upset a boat.”

“Then I’m glad this is not the Arctic circle,” cried Dick. “Only fancy having one of those things picking you out of a boat! Ugh!”

He glanced at his brother and then laughed, for Arthur was looking rather white.

“What say?” roared Josh as loud as he could to a man in a boat close by.

“Gashly great fish in the net,” shouted back the man.

“Gashly great fish in the net?” roared Josh.

“Ay; gashly great fish in the net. Mick Polynack see um while ago.”

After a few inquiries it was found that the men believed that the great seine had been drawn round some large fish, possibly a shark, and the excitement was great when, after emptying the tuck net, it was gathered in and the great seine drawn closer.

This took a long time, but it was effected at last, the space inclosed being reduced to less than half the former size, and once more the busy scene went on, the mackerel being caught by hundreds, counted into baskets, tied down, and sent off; but though its appearance was eagerly looked for, no sign was given of the presence of the big fish, whatever it might be. More bass were found, and scad, and gurnard, and a long, thin, cod-fish-looking fellow was drawn napping and splashing from the sea, proving to be a ling. Then there was quite a sight of a little shoal of gar-fish or long-nose, which played about the top of the water for some time here and there in a state of excitement; and then there was a splashing and flashing, and one after the other they threw themselves over the cork-line and escaped to the open bay.

“What a pity!” cried Arthur.

“Oh! not much, sir. We don’t care a very great deal for ’em down here.”

More squid, a cuttle or two, and several other fish of the varieties previously taken; and still, as if the supply was inexhaustible, the mackerel were ladled out as if from a huge basin with the great landing-nets.

“There don’t seem to be any big fish here,” said Dick at last in disappointed tones, for he had lost all interest in smaller fry since he had heard the announcement of there being something larger inclosed in the net.

“I should say it was a shark,” said Josh quietly, “he lies so quiet at the bottom.”

The word shark was electrical, and sent a thrill of excitement through the little party.

“But have you sharks off this coast, my man?” asked Mr Temple.

“Not a great few, sir; but we sees one now and then, and times we hear of one being ketched.”

“You mean dog-fish,” said Mr Temple.

“Oh no! I don’t, sir,” cried Josh. “Real sharks.”

“But only small ones.”

“Yes, sir, small ones, big as Will there, and big ones, great as me, and three foot longer. Shouldn’t wonder if there was a big one in the net.”

“But a large fish such as you speak of would go through the net as if it were a cobweb.”

Will shook his head.

“If the net was tight, sir, and the shark swam right at it, the meshes would give way; but they don’t seem to swim right at them, and the net goes with the fish like—yields to it—and does not break. It does sometimes, of course; but we’ve seen a big fish, a porpoise, regularly rolled up in a net and tied in so that it couldn’t move.”

“Like a conger in a trammel,” assented Josh. “Fish is very stoopid, sir, and never thinks of getting out the way they go in.”

All this while the seine was being contracted and drawn into the boat, where it was laid up like some gigantic brown skein, the men who were gathering it in shaking out the sea-weed and small fish that had enmeshed themselves and had forced their unfortunate heads in beyond the gills.

“Here she be,” shouted one of the men, as there was a tremendous swirl in the water close by a boat.

“All right!” said the captain of the seine, “we’ll have her bime-by;” and once more the collecting of the mackerel went on till the tremendous shoal that had been inclosed had exchanged places, and was pretty well all in the baskets that were still being rapidly despatched. And all this time the net had been more and more contracted, the bottom worked by the ropes, so that it was drawn closer and closer, and at last it was decided that the next thing to be done was to capture the large fish, whatever it was, and this they set about, as shall be told.

Chapter Twenty.Unpleasant Times for a big blue Shark.Long usage had made the principal fishermen who lived by seine-fishing and trawling as thoroughly acquainted with the bottom of the bay as if they could see it like a piece of land. Every rock and its position was in their mind’s eye, every patch of sand and bed of stone, so that they had no difficulty in getting the net in closer and closer towards one side of the bay, where it formed a broad sandy slope, up which it was determined to draw the net, gradually opening the ends, or rather one end, the other being packed deeply down in the seine-boat.This was done, the small boats being rowed out of the circle of corks, and one going to the free end of the net, while the others, with Uncle Abram’s and its load, going to the back of the net, about the middle, so that the visitors might have a good view.All this took time; but at last the net was so managed that the two seine-boats were ashore, their stems run right on the sands, and the net between them formed a bow towards the coast, the ends being about eighty or ninety yards apart.There was no mistake now about there being some large fish inclosed; and the excitement of the boys grew intense when they saw Josh take hold of the hitcher, and hold it, spear-fashion, ready to attack the great fish should he see a chance.“Don’t strike at her, Josh,” shouted Pollard, “unless she be coming over. I think we can manage her easy enough now.”He was quite right, for long custom had made these men wonderfully clever in the management of a net, which, fragile in its single threads, becomes, in its combination of thousands of meshes, an engine of tremendous power.The way the men managed was as follows:—After getting, as it were, the two ends of the net to the shore, they drew on the lower rope, bringing it in, and in, over the sand, till the bow it made was less bent. Then they served the upper rope the same. Then they drew both together, with the result that at last the tremendously extensive net was folded longwise right over upon itself, the top-line was drawn right down upon the foot-line, and at last the fish left in the net were completely shut in what seemed like an enormous old-fashioned purse.This done, the ends were taken by plenty of willing hands right into shallow water, and as the men hauled, the great purse came closer and closer, and every now and then there was a tremendous agitation towards the middle.“Let’s go ashore, now,” said Arthur, as Josh urged the boat on, and the water swirled up tremendously not four yards away.“Is there any danger—any risk?” said Mr Temple quietly to Josh.“A mussy me! no, sir; not a bit!” said Josh; and then laughing, he added, “only for shark, sir, of having his liver boiled down for oil.”“Oh! don’t I wish I had a spear, or a harpoon!” cried Dick excitedly, as once more the water was churned up and the net came to the surface.“We’ll get her without any o’ that tackle, Master Dick, sir,” cried Josh, keeping steadily advancing after the cork-line, but not so quickly as to go over the net.“Are they going to draw the net right ashore, Will?” said Dick.“Right ashore, Master Dick, on to the sands, and it won’t be long now.”“Take care, Dick, or you’ll be overboard!” said Mr Temple.“I should like to be, father; it isn’t deep here?”“Fathom!” said Josh shortly; “soon be half.”There was a regular sing-song kept up by the men who were hauling, and the sands presented quite an exciting scene, for some sixty or seventy of the men who had finished their task, with others who were ashore and not busy, had collected to see the big fish taken in the seine.“Why, there must be lots of fish in it yet,” said Dick.“Yes; plenty of mackerel left, and a many fish perhaps such as you never saw before.”“Is she heavy, lads?” shouted the captain of the seine-boat.“Ay, there be a sag o’ fish in her yet aside the great un,” was shouted back.“Steady, then! steady! and don’t break the seine. Take your time!”“Hadn’t we better get ashore?” cried Dick; “we shall see better.”“No!” said Mr Temple; “I think our friend Josh is right. We are out of the way of the men here and dry. Look, boys, look! there is something big in the net indeed!”For as he was speaking there was a tremendous commotion, the water was splashed up, and for a moment it seemed as if whatever caused the disturbance had escaped.But it was not so, though the limits of its prison were growing narrower minute by minute as the ends of the net were gathered on to the sand, and laid at the water’s edge like a great soft ridge of brown sea-weed.The curve of the net was now reduced to fifty feet, and soon it was not above forty; and at this stage of the proceedings what with the weight being collected in such narrow limits, and the water being so shallow, the captain became doubtful of its bearing so tremendous a strain as would be caused by its being hauled bodily ashore, so about twenty men waded in behind the great bag that it formed, and at the word of command as two parties hauled at either end they stooped down, and gathering up a fair quantity of the tightened net in their hands, they too helped, and the thirty or forty feet of shallow water was soon covered, the seine being dragged so that the lead or bottom-line was drawn right on to dry land, and the cork-line raised so that there was a fence of net some three feet above the top of the water, and in the long shallow pool, whose bottom was net, there were the fish by the thousand, rushing to and fro, leaping over each other, and showing flashes of silver, gold, blue, and green, in the bright sun as it shone on the animated scene.“Bring up some more pads!” cried the captain of the seine; “here be five or six hundred more mackerel. Hand me that boat-hook, my lad, and stand aside. Keep off the net there, you boys!”Dick realised now the advantage of his position as Josh thrust the boat right up to the net, and he could look down at the crowded fish, some of which began to turn up fast now, killed by the pressure, and the sandy thickness of the water.But the sight of sights was a long bluish-grey fish that kept slowly forcing itself here and there amongst the silvery crowd, keeping its head well beneath the water, and now and then showing a long, thin, unequally-lobed tail.“Shark she be, sure enough,” said Josh.“Ay, shark!” said the captain, advancing, boat-hook in hand; “time her mischief was stopped.”“Do they do mischief?” whispered Dick to Will. “No; never mind now; I can’t listen to you!”The scene was too full of interest, for it was evident that the captain meant to hook hold of the shark, and draw it on to the sands before anything else was done.But this did not prove a very easy task, for the great fish kept diving under the companions of its adversity, and keeping its head boring down towards the bottom.If it had been a question of catching it by the tail there would have been no difficulty in getting a chance. In fact, several times over a thin line with a noose might have been thrown over the lobes and the fish drawn out; but the captain had made up his mind to get the boat-hook well in the creature’s jaws or gills and drag it ashore that fashion, while, when at last he did get a chance he missed, the hook gliding over the shining skin without taking hold.Twice he missed like this, and it took some time before he could get another chance; but at last it came, and as, full of excitement, the occupants of the boat bent over the side, there was a quick lunge, and a tremendous splashing as the captain ran nimbly up the sands, dragging after him the long bluish fish, which was immediately attacked as it lay on the sands lashing about with its tail, and throwing its head from side to side till the knife-thrusts it received, and the violent blows across the back of the head, disabled it, and its course was at an end.“I only wonder, sir, as she didn’t bite her way out of the net,” said the captain of the seine, as Mr Temple and his sons landed to have a look at the take:“It is a shark, then?” said Mr Temple.“Ay, sir, she be a blue shark, sure enough. Look at her teeth! Mischievous brutes; they follow the drift-nets, and bite the herring and pilchard out of ’em. I’ve known ’em swallow a conger when it’s been hooked, and I’ve seen small ones caught that way, but they generally bite through the line and go off. Look, sir, there’s teeth—sharp as lancets.”As he spoke he thrust the end of the boat-hook between the shark’s jaws, and wrenched them open for the party to see.“I say, though, Mr Pollard,” said Dick.“Cap’n Pollard, if you wouldn’t mind, young gentleman,” said the great bluff Cornishman, smiling at Dick.“Captain Pollard,” said Dick, “do these sharks ever attack a man or a boy when bathing?”“Never heerd o’ such a thing,” said the captain; “but the mischief they do to a fisherman’s craft, sir, is something terrible—lines, nets, fish—they destroy everything. Like to take the shark home with you, sir?”“No, thank you!” cried Mr Temple, shaking his head; “no sharks, thank you!”“You’re welcome, if you like, sir,” said the captain; “but if you don’t care for her, I’ll send her to London to my salesman, and he’ll show her as a cur’osity.”“Eight feet long exactly,” said Mr Temple, who had been measuring it.“Be she, though?” said the captain, “well, it be eight foot o’ mischief well put out of the way, and that’s a good day’s work.”They stopped looking at the long thin shark for some minutes, Dick thinking that it was not so very much unlike a dog-fish after all, and then they turned back to the net, which was being rapidly emptied, the mackerel that were left being quickly counted out into baskets and tied down, those obtained now forming what Dick would have considered quite a good take.But there were plenty of other fish, though none were very small, the size of the meshes being sufficiently large to allow of their escape. There was one more large hake, and quite a little shoal of red bream,chad, as Will called them. Several dog-fish were there too, and some more squid. The fish, however, that most took the attention of the boys now were about a score of red mullet, and half as many more of the grey, very different fish, though, the one being as gorgeous in its scarlet tints as the other was plain, silvery, and grey.At last, after a most interesting examination of the different captures, the net was declared and proved to be empty, the damaged fish it contained being thrown out upon the sands, where the waves of the flowing tide kept curling over them, and sweeping the refuse away, to be snapped up by the shoals of hungry fish that came up the bay, the thousands that had been captured that morning being as nothing in the immensity of the ocean population.“Home?” said Dick suddenly, as Mr Temple said something about going. “Of course. Why, we haven’t had our dinner!”“What is for dinner, I wonder?” said Arthur.“For one thing, fish,” said Mr Temple, “for your friend Will went to the inn an hour ago with a basket of the best; so let’s go and see if they are done.”

Long usage had made the principal fishermen who lived by seine-fishing and trawling as thoroughly acquainted with the bottom of the bay as if they could see it like a piece of land. Every rock and its position was in their mind’s eye, every patch of sand and bed of stone, so that they had no difficulty in getting the net in closer and closer towards one side of the bay, where it formed a broad sandy slope, up which it was determined to draw the net, gradually opening the ends, or rather one end, the other being packed deeply down in the seine-boat.

This was done, the small boats being rowed out of the circle of corks, and one going to the free end of the net, while the others, with Uncle Abram’s and its load, going to the back of the net, about the middle, so that the visitors might have a good view.

All this took time; but at last the net was so managed that the two seine-boats were ashore, their stems run right on the sands, and the net between them formed a bow towards the coast, the ends being about eighty or ninety yards apart.

There was no mistake now about there being some large fish inclosed; and the excitement of the boys grew intense when they saw Josh take hold of the hitcher, and hold it, spear-fashion, ready to attack the great fish should he see a chance.

“Don’t strike at her, Josh,” shouted Pollard, “unless she be coming over. I think we can manage her easy enough now.”

He was quite right, for long custom had made these men wonderfully clever in the management of a net, which, fragile in its single threads, becomes, in its combination of thousands of meshes, an engine of tremendous power.

The way the men managed was as follows:—

After getting, as it were, the two ends of the net to the shore, they drew on the lower rope, bringing it in, and in, over the sand, till the bow it made was less bent. Then they served the upper rope the same. Then they drew both together, with the result that at last the tremendously extensive net was folded longwise right over upon itself, the top-line was drawn right down upon the foot-line, and at last the fish left in the net were completely shut in what seemed like an enormous old-fashioned purse.

This done, the ends were taken by plenty of willing hands right into shallow water, and as the men hauled, the great purse came closer and closer, and every now and then there was a tremendous agitation towards the middle.

“Let’s go ashore, now,” said Arthur, as Josh urged the boat on, and the water swirled up tremendously not four yards away.

“Is there any danger—any risk?” said Mr Temple quietly to Josh.

“A mussy me! no, sir; not a bit!” said Josh; and then laughing, he added, “only for shark, sir, of having his liver boiled down for oil.”

“Oh! don’t I wish I had a spear, or a harpoon!” cried Dick excitedly, as once more the water was churned up and the net came to the surface.

“We’ll get her without any o’ that tackle, Master Dick, sir,” cried Josh, keeping steadily advancing after the cork-line, but not so quickly as to go over the net.

“Are they going to draw the net right ashore, Will?” said Dick.

“Right ashore, Master Dick, on to the sands, and it won’t be long now.”

“Take care, Dick, or you’ll be overboard!” said Mr Temple.

“I should like to be, father; it isn’t deep here?”

“Fathom!” said Josh shortly; “soon be half.”

There was a regular sing-song kept up by the men who were hauling, and the sands presented quite an exciting scene, for some sixty or seventy of the men who had finished their task, with others who were ashore and not busy, had collected to see the big fish taken in the seine.

“Why, there must be lots of fish in it yet,” said Dick.

“Yes; plenty of mackerel left, and a many fish perhaps such as you never saw before.”

“Is she heavy, lads?” shouted the captain of the seine-boat.

“Ay, there be a sag o’ fish in her yet aside the great un,” was shouted back.

“Steady, then! steady! and don’t break the seine. Take your time!”

“Hadn’t we better get ashore?” cried Dick; “we shall see better.”

“No!” said Mr Temple; “I think our friend Josh is right. We are out of the way of the men here and dry. Look, boys, look! there is something big in the net indeed!”

For as he was speaking there was a tremendous commotion, the water was splashed up, and for a moment it seemed as if whatever caused the disturbance had escaped.

But it was not so, though the limits of its prison were growing narrower minute by minute as the ends of the net were gathered on to the sand, and laid at the water’s edge like a great soft ridge of brown sea-weed.

The curve of the net was now reduced to fifty feet, and soon it was not above forty; and at this stage of the proceedings what with the weight being collected in such narrow limits, and the water being so shallow, the captain became doubtful of its bearing so tremendous a strain as would be caused by its being hauled bodily ashore, so about twenty men waded in behind the great bag that it formed, and at the word of command as two parties hauled at either end they stooped down, and gathering up a fair quantity of the tightened net in their hands, they too helped, and the thirty or forty feet of shallow water was soon covered, the seine being dragged so that the lead or bottom-line was drawn right on to dry land, and the cork-line raised so that there was a fence of net some three feet above the top of the water, and in the long shallow pool, whose bottom was net, there were the fish by the thousand, rushing to and fro, leaping over each other, and showing flashes of silver, gold, blue, and green, in the bright sun as it shone on the animated scene.

“Bring up some more pads!” cried the captain of the seine; “here be five or six hundred more mackerel. Hand me that boat-hook, my lad, and stand aside. Keep off the net there, you boys!”

Dick realised now the advantage of his position as Josh thrust the boat right up to the net, and he could look down at the crowded fish, some of which began to turn up fast now, killed by the pressure, and the sandy thickness of the water.

But the sight of sights was a long bluish-grey fish that kept slowly forcing itself here and there amongst the silvery crowd, keeping its head well beneath the water, and now and then showing a long, thin, unequally-lobed tail.

“Shark she be, sure enough,” said Josh.

“Ay, shark!” said the captain, advancing, boat-hook in hand; “time her mischief was stopped.”

“Do they do mischief?” whispered Dick to Will. “No; never mind now; I can’t listen to you!”

The scene was too full of interest, for it was evident that the captain meant to hook hold of the shark, and draw it on to the sands before anything else was done.

But this did not prove a very easy task, for the great fish kept diving under the companions of its adversity, and keeping its head boring down towards the bottom.

If it had been a question of catching it by the tail there would have been no difficulty in getting a chance. In fact, several times over a thin line with a noose might have been thrown over the lobes and the fish drawn out; but the captain had made up his mind to get the boat-hook well in the creature’s jaws or gills and drag it ashore that fashion, while, when at last he did get a chance he missed, the hook gliding over the shining skin without taking hold.

Twice he missed like this, and it took some time before he could get another chance; but at last it came, and as, full of excitement, the occupants of the boat bent over the side, there was a quick lunge, and a tremendous splashing as the captain ran nimbly up the sands, dragging after him the long bluish fish, which was immediately attacked as it lay on the sands lashing about with its tail, and throwing its head from side to side till the knife-thrusts it received, and the violent blows across the back of the head, disabled it, and its course was at an end.

“I only wonder, sir, as she didn’t bite her way out of the net,” said the captain of the seine, as Mr Temple and his sons landed to have a look at the take:

“It is a shark, then?” said Mr Temple.

“Ay, sir, she be a blue shark, sure enough. Look at her teeth! Mischievous brutes; they follow the drift-nets, and bite the herring and pilchard out of ’em. I’ve known ’em swallow a conger when it’s been hooked, and I’ve seen small ones caught that way, but they generally bite through the line and go off. Look, sir, there’s teeth—sharp as lancets.”

As he spoke he thrust the end of the boat-hook between the shark’s jaws, and wrenched them open for the party to see.

“I say, though, Mr Pollard,” said Dick.

“Cap’n Pollard, if you wouldn’t mind, young gentleman,” said the great bluff Cornishman, smiling at Dick.

“Captain Pollard,” said Dick, “do these sharks ever attack a man or a boy when bathing?”

“Never heerd o’ such a thing,” said the captain; “but the mischief they do to a fisherman’s craft, sir, is something terrible—lines, nets, fish—they destroy everything. Like to take the shark home with you, sir?”

“No, thank you!” cried Mr Temple, shaking his head; “no sharks, thank you!”

“You’re welcome, if you like, sir,” said the captain; “but if you don’t care for her, I’ll send her to London to my salesman, and he’ll show her as a cur’osity.”

“Eight feet long exactly,” said Mr Temple, who had been measuring it.

“Be she, though?” said the captain, “well, it be eight foot o’ mischief well put out of the way, and that’s a good day’s work.”

They stopped looking at the long thin shark for some minutes, Dick thinking that it was not so very much unlike a dog-fish after all, and then they turned back to the net, which was being rapidly emptied, the mackerel that were left being quickly counted out into baskets and tied down, those obtained now forming what Dick would have considered quite a good take.

But there were plenty of other fish, though none were very small, the size of the meshes being sufficiently large to allow of their escape. There was one more large hake, and quite a little shoal of red bream,chad, as Will called them. Several dog-fish were there too, and some more squid. The fish, however, that most took the attention of the boys now were about a score of red mullet, and half as many more of the grey, very different fish, though, the one being as gorgeous in its scarlet tints as the other was plain, silvery, and grey.

At last, after a most interesting examination of the different captures, the net was declared and proved to be empty, the damaged fish it contained being thrown out upon the sands, where the waves of the flowing tide kept curling over them, and sweeping the refuse away, to be snapped up by the shoals of hungry fish that came up the bay, the thousands that had been captured that morning being as nothing in the immensity of the ocean population.

“Home?” said Dick suddenly, as Mr Temple said something about going. “Of course. Why, we haven’t had our dinner!”

“What is for dinner, I wonder?” said Arthur.

“For one thing, fish,” said Mr Temple, “for your friend Will went to the inn an hour ago with a basket of the best; so let’s go and see if they are done.”

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