Chapter Twenty One.

Chapter Twenty One.Mr Arthur Temple is not in the least alarmed.“Father,” cried Dick, bursting into the room where Mr Temple was busy with weights, scales, test-tubes, a lamp, and blow-pipe, trying the quality of some metals—“father, here’s Will Marion and Mr Marion’s man Josh come to see if we’d like to go with them to-night conger-fishing.”“To-night?”“Yes; they won’t bite very well of a day. He knows a place where—”“Who ishe?” said Mr Temple.“I mean Will, father; he knows of a place where the congers are plentiful, and Josh says he’ll take the greatest care of us.”“Whom do you mean by us?” said Mr Temple.“Arthur and me, father. Taff wants to go very badly.”“I hardly know what to say, Dick,” said Mr Temple thoughtfully. “Last time you came to grief, and had a narrow escape.”“Oh, but that isn’t likely to occur again, father!” said Dick. “It would be such a treat, too.”“Humph! what am I to do, my boy—coddle you up, and keep you always under my eye; or give you a little latitude, and trust to your discretion to take care of yourself and your brother?”“Give me a little latitude, father—and longitude too,” added Dick with a laugh in his eye.“Well, I will, Dick; but you must be very careful, my lad, especially of Arthur.”“Oh, but Taff is such a solemn old gentleman with his stick-up collar and his cane that he ought to take care of me, father!”“Perhaps he ought,” said Mr Temple; “but I tell you to take care of him.”“All right, father! I will.”“By the way, Dick, that lad Marion seems a very decent fellow.”“Decent, father! Why, he’s a splendid chap. He has rough hands and wears fisherman’s clothes and does hard work, but he has been to a big grammar-school in Devonshire somewhere, and he knows a deal more Greek than I do, and quite as much Latin.”“Indeed!”“Yes, that he does. It made Arthur stare, for he was coming the great man over Will Marion, and being very condescending.”“Yes, it is a way Master Arthur has,” muttered Mr Temple frowning.“I said to Taff that he ought not to, but he would. I like Will Marion. Josh says he’ll be owner of a lot of fishing-boats and nets some day when his uncle dies; but he says Will thinks he would like to make his own way in the world, and that it is very foolish of him.”“Oh, that’s what Josh thinks, is it?”“Yes, father.”“And what do you think?”“That a lad ought to be independent and try and fight his own way in the world. I mean to.”“That’s right, my boy. Keep to that text and you will succeed. You may have a good many downfalls first, but sooner or later you will get on. There, go away now. I’m busy testing ere.”“Can I help you, father?”“No, my lad, no. Not now. There, be off, and don’t get into any mischief.”“No, father. And about the conger-fishing?”“If you will take great care you may go.”“Hooray!”“But stop. Tell that man Josh that I hold him responsible for taking care of you.”“Yes, father,” cried Dick. “Hooray!” he whispered as he darted out of the room, and came so suddenly upon Arthur that he sent him backwards into a sitting position.Arthur sat looking petrified with pain and astonishment, cane in one hand, a book in the other. Then starting up as Dick offered him his hand laughingly, saying, “I’m very sorry, Taff!” Arthur raised his cane and struck his brother viciously across the shoulder a regular stinging cut, while, smarting with the pain, Dick struck back at him, and gave him so severe a blow in the cheek that Arthur this time measured his length on the floor.“Quiet, you boys, quiet!” said Mr Temple angrily, as he opened his door. “Go and play down on the shore.”Dick’s anger evaporated on the instant, and was succeeded by a feeling of mingled shame and sorrow.“Oh, I am sorry, Taff!” he said, helping his brother to rise. “You shouldn’t have hit me, though. If anybody hurts me like that I’m sure to hit out again.”Arthur did not answer till they were outside, and then he turned viciously upon his brother.“You’re a regular coward,” he cried, “to strike a blow like that.”“I didn’t say you were a coward for beginning it,” said Dick sharply. “You struck the first blow. Never mind, let’s shake hands. It’s all over now.”Arthur turned his back and went away, switching his cane as he walked towards the upper part of the village, while, after stopping to gaze after him for a few minutes, Dick sighed, and strolled down to his favourite post, the pier, to tell Will Marion that he had obtained leave for the fishing, and to ask what time they were to start.“I wish I hadn’t hit Taff,” he said to himself dolefully; “but he knows how savage it makes me if I’m hurt. I wish I hadn’t hit him, though, all the same.”The regret was vain: he could not take back the blow, and his forehead wrinkled up and his spirit felt depressed as he went on.“Poor old Taff!” he said to himself. “I don’t think he’s so strong as I am, and that makes him ill-tempered. And I’d been promising father that I’d take care of him; and then I’ve got such a brutal temper that I go and begin knocking him about.—Oh, I wish I wasn’t so hot and peppery! It’s too bad, that it is.“I suppose we sha’n’t go conger-fishing now,” he said gloomily. “Taff won’t care to go.“Yes, he will,” he said after a few minutes’ pause. “I’ll tell him at dinner-time I’m very sorry; and then we shall make it up, and it will be all right! Why, hallo! there he is going down to the boats. He must have been round the other way. I’ll bet a penny he heard what I said to father about the fishing, or else he has seen Will.”The latter was the more correct surmise, though Arthur had also heard his father give his consent.“Hi! Taff!” shouted Dick; but his brother did not turn his head, stalking straight down to the pier and getting to where Will and Josh were at work preparing their tackle for the night’s fishing.“I’m very sorry, Taff,” said Dick humbly. “I hope I did not hurt you much.”Arthur made no reply, but began to speak to Will.“Papa has given me leave to go with you,” he said; “but I don’t think I should care about being out so late.”“Better come, sir,” said Josh. “It will be rare sport. I know about the best place along our bay, and it hasn’t been fished for six months, has it, Will?”“Nine months, quite,” said Will. “Yes, you had better come, sir.”“He’s hoping I won’t go,” said Arthur to himself; “and Dick hopes I won’t go; but I will go just out of spite, to let them see that I’m not going to let them have all their own way.”“Oh, he’ll come,” said Dick, “and you’ll give him some good sport, won’t you? He hasn’t had any fishing since we’ve been down here. And I say, Josh, my father says he shall hold you responsible. No getting us run down this time.”“Not I,” said Josh. “I’ll have a lantern hoisted as we row back, and no boats will come where we are fishing; it’s too rocky.”“Let’s see the lines,” said Dick eagerly. “Oh, I say, what a hook! It’s too big.”“Not it,” said Will. “Congers have big mouths, and they’re very strong.”“What time shall we get back?”“’Bout ten, sir,” said Josh, “and start at half-past five. We’ll have everything ready.”Arthur turned to go directly after; and though Dick was anxious to stay he was more eager to make friends with his brother, and he followed him, to have his apology accepted at last, but not in the most amiable of ways.The fact is Arthur would have held out longer, but he could not do so without jeopardising the evening trip, upon which he had set his mind.His was a singular state of mind, for although filled with an intense longing, this was balanced by a curious sensation of dread, consequent upon his somewhat nervous temperament, which is a roundabout way of saying that he was afraid.The idea of going right away, as it seemed to him, at night over the dark water to fish by the light of a lanthorn was startling, and sent a curious shiver through him; but at the same time it attracted him with a strange fascination that forced him to keep to his determination of being one of the party, as often as his old timidity made him disposed to say he would stay at home.“And if I did, Dick would laugh at me. But he shall not this time.”So he kept up a distant manner towards his brother for the rest of the day, playing grand and pardoning him, as he said to himself, by degrees, so that after an early tea, when they had started together they were pretty good friends.“I am glad you are going, Taff,” said Dick in his buoyant way. “I shall ask Josh to take special care of you.”“I beg that you will do nothing of the sort,” said Arthur haughtily. “I daresay I can take care of myself.”Arthur drew himself up as he said this, and stalked along rather grandly; and of course he might dare to say that he could take care of himself: but saying and doing are two very different things, and the probabilities are that if he had known what conger-fishing meant, he would not have gone.

“Father,” cried Dick, bursting into the room where Mr Temple was busy with weights, scales, test-tubes, a lamp, and blow-pipe, trying the quality of some metals—“father, here’s Will Marion and Mr Marion’s man Josh come to see if we’d like to go with them to-night conger-fishing.”

“To-night?”

“Yes; they won’t bite very well of a day. He knows a place where—”

“Who ishe?” said Mr Temple.

“I mean Will, father; he knows of a place where the congers are plentiful, and Josh says he’ll take the greatest care of us.”

“Whom do you mean by us?” said Mr Temple.

“Arthur and me, father. Taff wants to go very badly.”

“I hardly know what to say, Dick,” said Mr Temple thoughtfully. “Last time you came to grief, and had a narrow escape.”

“Oh, but that isn’t likely to occur again, father!” said Dick. “It would be such a treat, too.”

“Humph! what am I to do, my boy—coddle you up, and keep you always under my eye; or give you a little latitude, and trust to your discretion to take care of yourself and your brother?”

“Give me a little latitude, father—and longitude too,” added Dick with a laugh in his eye.

“Well, I will, Dick; but you must be very careful, my lad, especially of Arthur.”

“Oh, but Taff is such a solemn old gentleman with his stick-up collar and his cane that he ought to take care of me, father!”

“Perhaps he ought,” said Mr Temple; “but I tell you to take care of him.”

“All right, father! I will.”

“By the way, Dick, that lad Marion seems a very decent fellow.”

“Decent, father! Why, he’s a splendid chap. He has rough hands and wears fisherman’s clothes and does hard work, but he has been to a big grammar-school in Devonshire somewhere, and he knows a deal more Greek than I do, and quite as much Latin.”

“Indeed!”

“Yes, that he does. It made Arthur stare, for he was coming the great man over Will Marion, and being very condescending.”

“Yes, it is a way Master Arthur has,” muttered Mr Temple frowning.

“I said to Taff that he ought not to, but he would. I like Will Marion. Josh says he’ll be owner of a lot of fishing-boats and nets some day when his uncle dies; but he says Will thinks he would like to make his own way in the world, and that it is very foolish of him.”

“Oh, that’s what Josh thinks, is it?”

“Yes, father.”

“And what do you think?”

“That a lad ought to be independent and try and fight his own way in the world. I mean to.”

“That’s right, my boy. Keep to that text and you will succeed. You may have a good many downfalls first, but sooner or later you will get on. There, go away now. I’m busy testing ere.”

“Can I help you, father?”

“No, my lad, no. Not now. There, be off, and don’t get into any mischief.”

“No, father. And about the conger-fishing?”

“If you will take great care you may go.”

“Hooray!”

“But stop. Tell that man Josh that I hold him responsible for taking care of you.”

“Yes, father,” cried Dick. “Hooray!” he whispered as he darted out of the room, and came so suddenly upon Arthur that he sent him backwards into a sitting position.

Arthur sat looking petrified with pain and astonishment, cane in one hand, a book in the other. Then starting up as Dick offered him his hand laughingly, saying, “I’m very sorry, Taff!” Arthur raised his cane and struck his brother viciously across the shoulder a regular stinging cut, while, smarting with the pain, Dick struck back at him, and gave him so severe a blow in the cheek that Arthur this time measured his length on the floor.

“Quiet, you boys, quiet!” said Mr Temple angrily, as he opened his door. “Go and play down on the shore.”

Dick’s anger evaporated on the instant, and was succeeded by a feeling of mingled shame and sorrow.

“Oh, I am sorry, Taff!” he said, helping his brother to rise. “You shouldn’t have hit me, though. If anybody hurts me like that I’m sure to hit out again.”

Arthur did not answer till they were outside, and then he turned viciously upon his brother.

“You’re a regular coward,” he cried, “to strike a blow like that.”

“I didn’t say you were a coward for beginning it,” said Dick sharply. “You struck the first blow. Never mind, let’s shake hands. It’s all over now.”

Arthur turned his back and went away, switching his cane as he walked towards the upper part of the village, while, after stopping to gaze after him for a few minutes, Dick sighed, and strolled down to his favourite post, the pier, to tell Will Marion that he had obtained leave for the fishing, and to ask what time they were to start.

“I wish I hadn’t hit Taff,” he said to himself dolefully; “but he knows how savage it makes me if I’m hurt. I wish I hadn’t hit him, though, all the same.”

The regret was vain: he could not take back the blow, and his forehead wrinkled up and his spirit felt depressed as he went on.

“Poor old Taff!” he said to himself. “I don’t think he’s so strong as I am, and that makes him ill-tempered. And I’d been promising father that I’d take care of him; and then I’ve got such a brutal temper that I go and begin knocking him about.—Oh, I wish I wasn’t so hot and peppery! It’s too bad, that it is.

“I suppose we sha’n’t go conger-fishing now,” he said gloomily. “Taff won’t care to go.

“Yes, he will,” he said after a few minutes’ pause. “I’ll tell him at dinner-time I’m very sorry; and then we shall make it up, and it will be all right! Why, hallo! there he is going down to the boats. He must have been round the other way. I’ll bet a penny he heard what I said to father about the fishing, or else he has seen Will.”

The latter was the more correct surmise, though Arthur had also heard his father give his consent.

“Hi! Taff!” shouted Dick; but his brother did not turn his head, stalking straight down to the pier and getting to where Will and Josh were at work preparing their tackle for the night’s fishing.

“I’m very sorry, Taff,” said Dick humbly. “I hope I did not hurt you much.”

Arthur made no reply, but began to speak to Will.

“Papa has given me leave to go with you,” he said; “but I don’t think I should care about being out so late.”

“Better come, sir,” said Josh. “It will be rare sport. I know about the best place along our bay, and it hasn’t been fished for six months, has it, Will?”

“Nine months, quite,” said Will. “Yes, you had better come, sir.”

“He’s hoping I won’t go,” said Arthur to himself; “and Dick hopes I won’t go; but I will go just out of spite, to let them see that I’m not going to let them have all their own way.”

“Oh, he’ll come,” said Dick, “and you’ll give him some good sport, won’t you? He hasn’t had any fishing since we’ve been down here. And I say, Josh, my father says he shall hold you responsible. No getting us run down this time.”

“Not I,” said Josh. “I’ll have a lantern hoisted as we row back, and no boats will come where we are fishing; it’s too rocky.”

“Let’s see the lines,” said Dick eagerly. “Oh, I say, what a hook! It’s too big.”

“Not it,” said Will. “Congers have big mouths, and they’re very strong.”

“What time shall we get back?”

“’Bout ten, sir,” said Josh, “and start at half-past five. We’ll have everything ready.”

Arthur turned to go directly after; and though Dick was anxious to stay he was more eager to make friends with his brother, and he followed him, to have his apology accepted at last, but not in the most amiable of ways.

The fact is Arthur would have held out longer, but he could not do so without jeopardising the evening trip, upon which he had set his mind.

His was a singular state of mind, for although filled with an intense longing, this was balanced by a curious sensation of dread, consequent upon his somewhat nervous temperament, which is a roundabout way of saying that he was afraid.

The idea of going right away, as it seemed to him, at night over the dark water to fish by the light of a lanthorn was startling, and sent a curious shiver through him; but at the same time it attracted him with a strange fascination that forced him to keep to his determination of being one of the party, as often as his old timidity made him disposed to say he would stay at home.

“And if I did, Dick would laugh at me. But he shall not this time.”

So he kept up a distant manner towards his brother for the rest of the day, playing grand and pardoning him, as he said to himself, by degrees, so that after an early tea, when they had started together they were pretty good friends.

“I am glad you are going, Taff,” said Dick in his buoyant way. “I shall ask Josh to take special care of you.”

“I beg that you will do nothing of the sort,” said Arthur haughtily. “I daresay I can take care of myself.”

Arthur drew himself up as he said this, and stalked along rather grandly; and of course he might dare to say that he could take care of himself: but saying and doing are two very different things, and the probabilities are that if he had known what conger-fishing meant, he would not have gone.

Chapter Twenty Two.Over the Bay in the Eventide, when the Sun goes down in the West.It was close upon half-past five, and all Will’s preparations had been made. Lines of strong cord with hooks bound up the snooding with brass wire were on their winders. There was a tub half full of tasty pilchards—damaged ones fresh out of a late boat that had come in that afternoon. There was another tub full of much more damaged pilchards—all pounded up for ground bait.In fact nothing had been forgotten; even three oilskins had been lashed, in the stern ready for the visitors in case it should rain.“I say,” said Josh, “how about the young gent? I mean him Master Dick calls Taff?”“Well, what about him?” said Will.“Won’t he be scared when we gets a conger over the side.”“I never thought of that,” said Will musingly. “Oh! I should think not.”“’Cause we shall be in a gashly pickle if we haul in a big one, and she scares the youngster out of the boat.”“We must kill them at once,” said Will.“Yes; it’s all very well to say kill ’em at once,” grumbled Josh; “but you know what a gashly thing a big conger is to kill.”“Yes; he won’t lie still and be killed sometimes,” said Will laughing. “Ah! well, perhaps we sha’n’t catch any at all.”“Oh, yes! we shall, and gashly big uns too. Hadn’t we better leave young Arthur behind—’tother won’t be feared?”“No; it’s too late now,” said Will. “Here they are;” for just then the brothers came along the pier, and after Arthur had stepped in rather a dignified way down into the boat, Dick leaped in and insisted upon taking an oar.The boat was pushed off at once, and while Will and Dick were rowing Josh had to answer Arthur Temple’s questions.“Are those the lines?” he said, gazing at them curiously.“Yes, sir; and we’ve got some oilskin aprons for you to put on, so as you sha’n’t get wet.”“Aprons!” cried Arthur aghast.“Yes, sir; they be good uns too.”“I shall not put on an apron,” was upon Arthur’s lips, but he did not say it; and just then his attention was taken by a short thick truncheon, with a curious notch or fork at the handle end.“What’s that for?”“Little end’s disgorger,” said Josh; “t’other’s to knock the congers down with.”“To knock the congers down!” cried Arthur aghast.“Yes, when we get hold of a big one. They’re gashly strong, sir.”“Why, how big are they?” cried Arthur.“Five foot, six foot, seven foot sometimes,” said Josh coolly.Arthur’s first thought was to say, “Here, take me back;” but he caught his brother’s eye, and suppressed the words.“I—I did not know they were so big as that,” he faltered, though he tried to say it with firmness and a show of resolve.“They run big, sir, off our coast, and we get some gashly fellows, often,” said Josh innocently; “but you see, big as they are, men’s stronger, and boys too. Why, our Will would tackle any conger as ever swam about a rock. Takes hold of disgorger like this, you know, and gives one on the head, and that quiets ’em while we get the hook out.”“With—with the disgorger?” said Arthur.“That’s it, Master Taff,” said Josh.“My name is Arthur—Arthur Temple,” said the boy haughtily.“’Course it is, sir; I ought to have known,” said Josh. “It was along of Master Dick, there, calling you by t’other name. As I was saying,” he continued hastily, “Will there gives them a tap with the disgorger, and then holds them under his boot, runs this here down till it touches the hook where they’ve swallowed it, takes a turn or two of the line round the handle and twists the hook out.”“Why don’t you take the hook out properly—the same as I should from a fish?”“What—with your fingers, sir?”“Of course.”“A mussy me!” said Josh. “Why, don’t you know how a conger can bite?”“Bite! No,” said Arthur, turning pale. “Can they bite?”“Bite!” cried Josh. “Why, love your heart, young gentleman, look ye here. See this?”He held up one of the hooks at the end of the conger-line and showed the boy that not only was it very large, and tied on strong cord with a swivel or two, but it was bound from the shank some distance up the line with brass wire.“Yes, I can see it,” said Arthur, “of course. Isn’t it too big? A fish would not take a great awkward thing like that in its mouth.”“Won’t it?” said Josh laughing. “But it will if you put a pilchar’ on it. That there wire as is run round the line is to keep the congers from biting it in two.”“Oh! but, Josh, a conger wouldn’t bite through a line like that, would he?” cried Dick as he tugged at his oar.“Just as easy, sir, as you would through a bit o’ cotton after you’d sewed a button on your shirt.”“Why, they must be regular nippers!” cried Dick.“Nippers, sir? Why, they go at a big dead fish if it’s lying in the water, take a good mouthful, and then set their long bodies and tails to work, and spin round and round like a gimlet or a ship augur, and bore the piece right out.”“Oh! I say, Josh, don’t you know! He’s making that story up, isn’t he, Will?”“No,” said Will seriously; “it is quite true. Congers have a way of spinning themselves round like that. Don’t you see those swivels on the line?”“Yes,” said Dick, “I see ’em.”“That’s because the congers spin round so. If we did not use swivels they’d twist the line all in a tangle before you could get them out.”“Why, they’re regular sea-serpents,” said Dick.“Well, no,” said Josh; “they ain’t so big as sea-sarpents, because they say they’re hundreds o’ yards long. I never see one, but I’ve heerd say so; but congers will bite and no mistake. I had one ketch me by the boot once, and he bit right through the leather.”All this while they were rowing farther and farther from the shore, on about as lovely an evening as it was possible to imagine, and the warm glow of the sunshine prevented Arthur’s face from looking ghastly white.He felt that he must beg of them to turn back directly—that he dared not go farther; and yet there was a greater fear still to keep him silent. If he begged of them to row back they would laugh at him for a coward, and he could not bear this.“Fishing!” he thought; why, it was like going to attack some horrible pack of sea-monsters in their rocky fastnesses; and instead of being dressed in flannels, he felt that he ought to be clothed in complete armour. Why, if a conger could bite through a line, what would he think of flannel trousers? And if one got tight hold of his flesh, what would be the consequences?Arthur sat there with his mouth dry and his eyes staring as, in imagination, he saw one of the great slimy creatures twisting itself round and round, and cutting a great piece out of one of his legs; and it was all he could do to keep from shuddering with fear.And all the while there was Dick with a red face, and his hat stuck right at the back of his head, tugging away at his oar, and smiling at all Josh said.“I must try and be as brave as Dick is,” Arthur said to himself; and forcing his teeth firmly together, he began to plan in his own mind what he would do if Dick caught a conger. He would have his penknife ready in his hand, and pretend to help pull in the line; and while he was doing this he would cut it and the monster would swim away.“Don’t you be scared about the congers, Master Taffarthur, sir,” said Josh kindly. “They be gashly ugly things to tackle sometimes, but—”“I’m not afraid,” said Arthur indignantly.“Not you, sir. Why should you be?” said Josh. “We can manage them. A big one has a nasty way of his own of getting loose in the boat and wriggling himself all about under the thwarts—”Arthur involuntarily began to draw up his legs, as he felt as if one were already loose in the bottom of the boat.“But just you look ye here,” continued Josh, opening the little locker in the stern of the boat. “This is how I serves the big jockeys who’d be likely to give any trouble. I just give them a cut behind the head with this little fellow, and then they lie quiet enough.”As he spoke he showed Arthur a little axe with a very small head, and an edge as keen as a knife.“That’s too much for congers,” added Josh.“I say, how cruel to the poor things!” said Dick laughingly; but Josh took it in the most serious way.“Well, I have thought that ’bout the gashly conger, Master Dick, sir,” said Josh; “but I don’t know as it be. You see, they’re caught, and it puts ’em out of their misery, like, at once.”“But it’s cruel to catch them,” said Dick.Josh scratched his head.“A mussy me, Master Dick, sir! that’s a thing as has puzzled me lots o’ times when I’ve been hooking and killing fish; but then, you see, it’s for victuals, and everybody’s got to live.”“So have the fish,” laughed Dick.“So they have, sir; but you see here, I catches and kills a conger, or a pollack, or a gurnet, or a bass. Suppose I hadn’t killed it—what then?”“Why, it would be swimming about in the sea as happy as could be.”“Yes, Master Dick, sir; but what else would it be doing?”“Basking in the sunshine, Josh.”“P’r’aps so, sir; but, a mussy me! he’d be chasing and hunting and eating hundreds of little fish every day; so you see if I catches one big one, I saves hundreds of little ones’ lives.”“I never thought of that,” said Dick.“Josh and I have often talked about it,” said Will seriously. “It seems cruel to catch and kill things; but they are always catching and killing others, and every bird and fish you see here is as cruel as can be. There goes a cormorant; he’ll be swimming and diving all day long catching fish, so will the shags; and all those beautiful grey-and-white gulls you can see on the rock there, live upon the fish they catch on the surface of the water.”“Then if we keep the congers from catching and killing other fishes and eating them, why, it’s being very kind, and isn’t cruel at all,” said Dick merrily; and then he sent a cold chill down his brother’s spine by saying, “Let’s look sharp and catch all the big ones we can.”“Now, you two take a rest,” said Josh, “and I’ll put her along a bit;” and changing places with the rowers, Josh handled the oars with such effect that in about half an hour they were approaching a tall mass of rock that had seemed at a distance to be part of the cliff-line, but which the visitors could now see to be quite a quarter of a mile from where the waves were beating the shore.

It was close upon half-past five, and all Will’s preparations had been made. Lines of strong cord with hooks bound up the snooding with brass wire were on their winders. There was a tub half full of tasty pilchards—damaged ones fresh out of a late boat that had come in that afternoon. There was another tub full of much more damaged pilchards—all pounded up for ground bait.

In fact nothing had been forgotten; even three oilskins had been lashed, in the stern ready for the visitors in case it should rain.

“I say,” said Josh, “how about the young gent? I mean him Master Dick calls Taff?”

“Well, what about him?” said Will.

“Won’t he be scared when we gets a conger over the side.”

“I never thought of that,” said Will musingly. “Oh! I should think not.”

“’Cause we shall be in a gashly pickle if we haul in a big one, and she scares the youngster out of the boat.”

“We must kill them at once,” said Will.

“Yes; it’s all very well to say kill ’em at once,” grumbled Josh; “but you know what a gashly thing a big conger is to kill.”

“Yes; he won’t lie still and be killed sometimes,” said Will laughing. “Ah! well, perhaps we sha’n’t catch any at all.”

“Oh, yes! we shall, and gashly big uns too. Hadn’t we better leave young Arthur behind—’tother won’t be feared?”

“No; it’s too late now,” said Will. “Here they are;” for just then the brothers came along the pier, and after Arthur had stepped in rather a dignified way down into the boat, Dick leaped in and insisted upon taking an oar.

The boat was pushed off at once, and while Will and Dick were rowing Josh had to answer Arthur Temple’s questions.

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

“Yes, sir; and we’ve got some oilskin aprons for you to put on, so as you sha’n’t get wet.”

“Aprons!” cried Arthur aghast.

“Yes, sir; they be good uns too.”

“I shall not put on an apron,” was upon Arthur’s lips, but he did not say it; and just then his attention was taken by a short thick truncheon, with a curious notch or fork at the handle end.

“What’s that for?”

“Little end’s disgorger,” said Josh; “t’other’s to knock the congers down with.”

“To knock the congers down!” cried Arthur aghast.

“Yes, when we get hold of a big one. They’re gashly strong, sir.”

“Why, how big are they?” cried Arthur.

“Five foot, six foot, seven foot sometimes,” said Josh coolly.

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

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

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

“With—with the disgorger?” said Arthur.

“That’s it, Master Taff,” said Josh.

“My name is Arthur—Arthur Temple,” said the boy haughtily.

“’Course it is, sir; I ought to have known,” said Josh. “It was along of Master Dick, there, calling you by t’other name. As I was saying,” he continued hastily, “Will there gives them a tap with the disgorger, and then holds them under his boot, runs this here down till it touches the hook where they’ve swallowed it, takes a turn or two of the line round the handle and twists the hook out.”

“Why don’t you take the hook out properly—the same as I should from a fish?”

“What—with your fingers, sir?”

“Of course.”

“A mussy me!” said Josh. “Why, don’t you know how a conger can bite?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh! but, Josh, a conger wouldn’t bite through a line like that, would he?” cried Dick as he tugged at his oar.

“Just as easy, sir, as you would through a bit o’ cotton after you’d sewed a button on your shirt.”

“Why, they must be regular nippers!” cried Dick.

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

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

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

“Yes,” said Dick, “I see ’em.”

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

“Why, they’re regular sea-serpents,” said Dick.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t you be scared about the congers, Master Taffarthur, sir,” said Josh kindly. “They be gashly ugly things to tackle sometimes, but—”

“I’m not afraid,” said Arthur indignantly.

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

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

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

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

“That’s too much for congers,” added Josh.

“I say, how cruel to the poor things!” said Dick laughingly; but Josh took it in the most serious way.

“Well, I have thought that ’bout the gashly conger, Master Dick, sir,” said Josh; “but I don’t know as it be. You see, they’re caught, and it puts ’em out of their misery, like, at once.”

“But it’s cruel to catch them,” said Dick.

Josh scratched his head.

“A mussy me, Master Dick, sir! that’s a thing as has puzzled me lots o’ times when I’ve been hooking and killing fish; but then, you see, it’s for victuals, and everybody’s got to live.”

“So have the fish,” laughed Dick.

“So they have, sir; but you see here, I catches and kills a conger, or a pollack, or a gurnet, or a bass. Suppose I hadn’t killed it—what then?”

“Why, it would be swimming about in the sea as happy as could be.”

“Yes, Master Dick, sir; but what else would it be doing?”

“Basking in the sunshine, Josh.”

“P’r’aps so, sir; but, a mussy me! he’d be chasing and hunting and eating hundreds of little fish every day; so you see if I catches one big one, I saves hundreds of little ones’ lives.”

“I never thought of that,” said Dick.

“Josh and I have often talked about it,” said Will seriously. “It seems cruel to catch and kill things; but they are always catching and killing others, and every bird and fish you see here is as cruel as can be. There goes a cormorant; he’ll be swimming and diving all day long catching fish, so will the shags; and all those beautiful grey-and-white gulls you can see on the rock there, live upon the fish they catch on the surface of the water.”

“Then if we keep the congers from catching and killing other fishes and eating them, why, it’s being very kind, and isn’t cruel at all,” said Dick merrily; and then he sent a cold chill down his brother’s spine by saying, “Let’s look sharp and catch all the big ones we can.”

“Now, you two take a rest,” said Josh, “and I’ll put her along a bit;” and changing places with the rowers, Josh handled the oars with such effect that in about half an hour they were approaching a tall mass of rock that had seemed at a distance to be part of the cliff-line, but which the visitors could now see to be quite a quarter of a mile from where the waves were beating the shore.

Chapter Twenty Three.Dick catches his first Conger.“Why, Will,” cried Dick, “it is quite an island. Oh, Taff, look at the birds!”“We don’t call a rock like that an island,” said Will quietly, as the boys watched a cloud of gulls that had been disturbed by their approach, and new screaming and uttering peevish querulous cries above their heads. The top of the rock, which was sixty or seventy feet above the water, was quite white with guano, and every ledge of the perpendicular mass seemed to be the home of the sea-birds which had been perched there in rows, looking almost like pigeons till the near approach of the boat had sent them off.“How long would it take to row round?” said Arthur, who, in the novelty of the scene, forgot all about the conger.“Two minutes if you could go close in,” said Josh; “ten minutes, because you have to dodge in and out among the rocks which lie out all round.”“And from the Mew Rock to the shore yonder,” added Will.“Yes,” said Josh; “it’s all rock about here, just a fathom or two under water, and a bad place for boots.”“Then why did you come in your boat?” cried Arthur excitedly.“I don’t mean little boots in fine weather, sir, I mean big boots in foul,” replied Josh, rowing steadily away. “This here’s the place where we wanted to come, and I’m going to take you to a hole like with rocks all round it, a hole as goes down seven or eight fathom, and the congers swarm in the holes all about here, as you’ll see.”Arthur’s hand tightened on the boat, and his dread made him feel almost ill; but he struggled with the nervous feeling manfully, though he dared not trust himself to speak.And all the while Josh rowed steadily on till he was skirting round the edge of the perpendicular mass of rock about whose base the waves foamed and fretted, as if weary with their efforts at trying to wash it down. The birds squealed and hissed, and now and then one uttered a doleful wail as it swept here and there, showing its pearly grey breast and the delicate white feathers beneath its wings.“Do you ever shoot these birds, Will?” said Dick, lying back so as to stare up at the gulls as they floated so easily by.“Shoot them! Oh, no! The fishermen here never harm them; they’re such good friends.”“Why?” said Arthur.“They show us where the fish are,” replied Will. “We can see them with the glass miles away, flapping about over a shoal of little ones, and darting down and feeding on them; and where they are feeding, big fish are sure to be feeding on the shoal as well.”“Then I shouldn’t like to be a shoal of little fish,” cried Dick. “Why, as the clown said in the pantomime, ‘it would be dangerous to be safe.’ I wonder there are any small fish left.”“There are so many of them,” said Will laughing; “thousands and millions of them; so many sometimes in a shoal that they could not be counted, and—”“Stand by with the killick, m’lad,” cried Josh, as he paddled slowly now, with his eyes fixed first on one landmark, then on another.“Ready,” said Will, clearing the line, and raising a great stone, to which the rope was fast, on to the edge of the boat.“Drop her atop of the little rock as I say when,” growled Josh.“Right,” answered back Will.Josh backed the boat a few yards; and as Dick and his brother gazed over the stem they were looking down into black water one moment and then they glided over a pale-green rock flecked with brown waving weeds.“When!” cried Josh.Plash!The big stone went over the side on to the rock, which seemed pretty level, and then as the line ran over the stern Josh began to row once more, and the boat glided over the sharp edge of the rock and into black water once more that seemed of tremendous depth.“Now, forrard, my lad,” said Josh; and Will passed him and took his place right in the bows.Here a similar process was gone through.After rowing slowly about thirty yards Josh stopped.“That ought to do it,” he said. “She won’t come no further. Over with it.”Will was standing up now in the bows swinging a grapnel to and fro, and after letting it sway three or four times he launched it from him, and it fell with a splash a score of yards away, taking with it another line, upon which when Dick hauled he found that the grapnel was fast in a rugged mass of rock like that which they had just left; and with grapnel and killick at either end of the boat, they were anchored, as Josh pointed out, right in the middle of the deep hole.“You can find rocks all round us,” he said, “on which you could have pitched the killick, and they all go straight down like the side of house or like that there Mew Rock where the birds are.”There was something awe-inspiring in the place, for the boat was in the shadow of the Mew Rock, behind which lay the sun, hastening to his rest, his ruddy beams streaming now on either side of what looked like a rugged black tower standing against a blazing sky, and for the moment even Dick felt oppressed by the solemnity and beauty of the scene.Away across the head of the bay lay the fishing village from which they had come, with its lattice-windows glittering and flashing in the sunshine, which gilded the luggers that were slowly stealing out to the fishing-ground miles away. Some of them were urged forward by long oars so as to get them beyond the shelter of the land, and into the range of the soft breeze that was rippling the bay far out, though where the fishing party lay the heaving sea, save where it broke upon the rocks, was as smooth as glass.“Now, young gentlemen,” said Josh quietly, “congers is queer customers; sometimes they’ll bite.”Arthur shivered.“Sometimes they won’t. I think to-night we shall ketch some.”“Two lines out, eh, Josh?” said Will.“Ay, two’s enough,” replied the fisherman; “let the young gents ketch ’em, and we’ll do the gawfing and unhooking. You ’tend Master Dickard there; I’ll ’tend Master Taffarthur, and let’s see who’ll get first fish. Starboard’s our side, port’s yourn.”As he spoke he nodded knowingly to Arthur and took out his knife, seized a pilchard, cut off its head, and split the fish partly up towards the tail and extracted the backbone, so that it was in two flaps. Then taking the large hook, he passed it in at the tail, drew the pilchard carefully up the shank, and then held up the hook for Arthur to see, with the broad flaps hanging down on either side of the curve and barbed point.“There,” he said, “Mr Conger Eel, Esquire, won’t notice that there’s a hook in that nice tasty bit of pilchar’. He’ll take it for his supper, and to-morrow he’ll make conger pie. Now, are you ready?”“Yes,” cried Arthur, making an effort to master his dread.“Right, then,” cried Josh; “lift the lead there over the side, and I’ll drop in the bait, and we shall have no tangle.”Arthur lifted a heavy piece of lead of the shape of a long egg cut down through its long diameter and attached by wire rings to the line, and lowered it over the side, Josh dropping in the silvery bait of pilchard at the same moment, and as the lead sank the bait seemed to dart down as if alive, disappearing in the dark clear water as the line ran rapidly over the side.“Let your line run, lad; there’s good seven fathom o’ water just here. That’s the way,” said Josh. “Now she’s at the bottom.”Plash, plash! came from the other side of the boat, and Dick shouted, “Hooray, Taff! here goes for first fish.”“Never you mind him,” said Josh to Arthur. “Now, then, hold hard; haul up a fathom o’ line—that’s the way: now your bait’s just by the bottom, and you’ll know when you’ve got a bite.”Arthur obeyed, and sat in the boat holding the line with both hands as rigid as a wax image, and gazing hopelessly at the rough fisherman, whose one short arm seemed horribly clever and deft, but he fancied it would be awkward if he had to deal with a large eel.“Hadn’t you better get the chopper ready?” said Arthur hoarsely.“Oh, that’s all ready,” said Josh laughing; “but you ain’t had a touch yet.”“N–no—I’m not sure,” said Arthur; “something seemed heavy at the end of the line.”“Four pound o’ lead, my lad, is heavy,” said Josh, smiling. “You’ll know when you get a conger.”“Hadn’t—hadn’t we better fish for something else, as the congers don’t bite?”“How do you know as they don’t bite?” said Josh good-humouredly.“They—they don’t seem to,” said Arthur. “Perhaps the bait’s off. Had we better see?”“Oh, no; that bait isn’t off,” said Josh quietly. “You bide a bit, my lad. Congers don’t care about light when they’re feeding. You’ll see when the sun’s well down.”“But I’d rather fish for mackerel, I think,” said Arthur as he gazed down into the dark water, and seemed to see twining monsters coming up to pluck him out of the boat.“Couldn’t ketch mack’rel here, my lad. This is a conger hole. Reg’lar home for ’em among these rocks. Will and me found ’em out: nobody else comes and fishes here. We found this hole.”“Ahoy! here’s a game. Oh, don’t he pull! Oh, my hands!” cried Dick.“Let me take him,” said Will.“No, no, I’ll catch him!” cried Dick excitedly. “I’ve got such a big one, Taff; he’s trying to pull my arms out of the sockets!”Tug—pull—jerk—drag—the line was running here and there; and if Dick had not twisted it round his hands it would have been drawn through them. As it was, it cut into them, but he held on like a hero.“Let the line go!” Will kept saying—“let the line go!” but Dick did not seem to understand. If he did, he was not disposed to let it run, and, as he thought, lose the fish; and so he dragged and hauled hand over hand, with Arthur shivering and ready, but for sheer shame, to get right away in the bows, as the struggle went on.“Here he is!” cried Dick at last. “Oh, what a monster! and how he pulls!”Arthur did not turn his head, and so he saw nothing of what followed, for he felt sick with dread; but there was a scuffling and a splashing, then a beating and flapping in the boat.“Keep him clear of the line, Will, lad!” said Josh.“Right!” was the laconic reply; and then there were two or three heavy dull blows, as if some one were striking something soft. And now Arthur turned round to see that Will had the great head of an eel between his knees, out of which he cleverly twisted the hook, and held the slowly writhing creature up at arm’s-length.“Oh, what a monster!” cried Dick.“Only a little one,” said Will, laughing. “It is not above fifteen or sixteen pounds.”“Why, how big do they grow, then?” cried Dick, as the eel was thrown into the locker and the lid shut down.“I’ve seen them ninety pounds!” said Will. “Josh, there, saw one a hundred. Didn’t you, Josh?”“Hundred and three pounds and an half!” said Josh. “We shall have some sport to-night!”

“Why, Will,” cried Dick, “it is quite an island. Oh, Taff, look at the birds!”

“We don’t call a rock like that an island,” said Will quietly, as the boys watched a cloud of gulls that had been disturbed by their approach, and new screaming and uttering peevish querulous cries above their heads. The top of the rock, which was sixty or seventy feet above the water, was quite white with guano, and every ledge of the perpendicular mass seemed to be the home of the sea-birds which had been perched there in rows, looking almost like pigeons till the near approach of the boat had sent them off.

“How long would it take to row round?” said Arthur, who, in the novelty of the scene, forgot all about the conger.

“Two minutes if you could go close in,” said Josh; “ten minutes, because you have to dodge in and out among the rocks which lie out all round.”

“And from the Mew Rock to the shore yonder,” added Will.

“Yes,” said Josh; “it’s all rock about here, just a fathom or two under water, and a bad place for boots.”

“Then why did you come in your boat?” cried Arthur excitedly.

“I don’t mean little boots in fine weather, sir, I mean big boots in foul,” replied Josh, rowing steadily away. “This here’s the place where we wanted to come, and I’m going to take you to a hole like with rocks all round it, a hole as goes down seven or eight fathom, and the congers swarm in the holes all about here, as you’ll see.”

Arthur’s hand tightened on the boat, and his dread made him feel almost ill; but he struggled with the nervous feeling manfully, though he dared not trust himself to speak.

And all the while Josh rowed steadily on till he was skirting round the edge of the perpendicular mass of rock about whose base the waves foamed and fretted, as if weary with their efforts at trying to wash it down. The birds squealed and hissed, and now and then one uttered a doleful wail as it swept here and there, showing its pearly grey breast and the delicate white feathers beneath its wings.

“Do you ever shoot these birds, Will?” said Dick, lying back so as to stare up at the gulls as they floated so easily by.

“Shoot them! Oh, no! The fishermen here never harm them; they’re such good friends.”

“Why?” said Arthur.

“They show us where the fish are,” replied Will. “We can see them with the glass miles away, flapping about over a shoal of little ones, and darting down and feeding on them; and where they are feeding, big fish are sure to be feeding on the shoal as well.”

“Then I shouldn’t like to be a shoal of little fish,” cried Dick. “Why, as the clown said in the pantomime, ‘it would be dangerous to be safe.’ I wonder there are any small fish left.”

“There are so many of them,” said Will laughing; “thousands and millions of them; so many sometimes in a shoal that they could not be counted, and—”

“Stand by with the killick, m’lad,” cried Josh, as he paddled slowly now, with his eyes fixed first on one landmark, then on another.

“Ready,” said Will, clearing the line, and raising a great stone, to which the rope was fast, on to the edge of the boat.

“Drop her atop of the little rock as I say when,” growled Josh.

“Right,” answered back Will.

Josh backed the boat a few yards; and as Dick and his brother gazed over the stem they were looking down into black water one moment and then they glided over a pale-green rock flecked with brown waving weeds.

“When!” cried Josh.

Plash!

The big stone went over the side on to the rock, which seemed pretty level, and then as the line ran over the stern Josh began to row once more, and the boat glided over the sharp edge of the rock and into black water once more that seemed of tremendous depth.

“Now, forrard, my lad,” said Josh; and Will passed him and took his place right in the bows.

Here a similar process was gone through.

After rowing slowly about thirty yards Josh stopped.

“That ought to do it,” he said. “She won’t come no further. Over with it.”

Will was standing up now in the bows swinging a grapnel to and fro, and after letting it sway three or four times he launched it from him, and it fell with a splash a score of yards away, taking with it another line, upon which when Dick hauled he found that the grapnel was fast in a rugged mass of rock like that which they had just left; and with grapnel and killick at either end of the boat, they were anchored, as Josh pointed out, right in the middle of the deep hole.

“You can find rocks all round us,” he said, “on which you could have pitched the killick, and they all go straight down like the side of house or like that there Mew Rock where the birds are.”

There was something awe-inspiring in the place, for the boat was in the shadow of the Mew Rock, behind which lay the sun, hastening to his rest, his ruddy beams streaming now on either side of what looked like a rugged black tower standing against a blazing sky, and for the moment even Dick felt oppressed by the solemnity and beauty of the scene.

Away across the head of the bay lay the fishing village from which they had come, with its lattice-windows glittering and flashing in the sunshine, which gilded the luggers that were slowly stealing out to the fishing-ground miles away. Some of them were urged forward by long oars so as to get them beyond the shelter of the land, and into the range of the soft breeze that was rippling the bay far out, though where the fishing party lay the heaving sea, save where it broke upon the rocks, was as smooth as glass.

“Now, young gentlemen,” said Josh quietly, “congers is queer customers; sometimes they’ll bite.”

Arthur shivered.

“Sometimes they won’t. I think to-night we shall ketch some.”

“Two lines out, eh, Josh?” said Will.

“Ay, two’s enough,” replied the fisherman; “let the young gents ketch ’em, and we’ll do the gawfing and unhooking. You ’tend Master Dickard there; I’ll ’tend Master Taffarthur, and let’s see who’ll get first fish. Starboard’s our side, port’s yourn.”

As he spoke he nodded knowingly to Arthur and took out his knife, seized a pilchard, cut off its head, and split the fish partly up towards the tail and extracted the backbone, so that it was in two flaps. Then taking the large hook, he passed it in at the tail, drew the pilchard carefully up the shank, and then held up the hook for Arthur to see, with the broad flaps hanging down on either side of the curve and barbed point.

“There,” he said, “Mr Conger Eel, Esquire, won’t notice that there’s a hook in that nice tasty bit of pilchar’. He’ll take it for his supper, and to-morrow he’ll make conger pie. Now, are you ready?”

“Yes,” cried Arthur, making an effort to master his dread.

“Right, then,” cried Josh; “lift the lead there over the side, and I’ll drop in the bait, and we shall have no tangle.”

Arthur lifted a heavy piece of lead of the shape of a long egg cut down through its long diameter and attached by wire rings to the line, and lowered it over the side, Josh dropping in the silvery bait of pilchard at the same moment, and as the lead sank the bait seemed to dart down as if alive, disappearing in the dark clear water as the line ran rapidly over the side.

“Let your line run, lad; there’s good seven fathom o’ water just here. That’s the way,” said Josh. “Now she’s at the bottom.”

Plash, plash! came from the other side of the boat, and Dick shouted, “Hooray, Taff! here goes for first fish.”

“Never you mind him,” said Josh to Arthur. “Now, then, hold hard; haul up a fathom o’ line—that’s the way: now your bait’s just by the bottom, and you’ll know when you’ve got a bite.”

Arthur obeyed, and sat in the boat holding the line with both hands as rigid as a wax image, and gazing hopelessly at the rough fisherman, whose one short arm seemed horribly clever and deft, but he fancied it would be awkward if he had to deal with a large eel.

“Hadn’t you better get the chopper ready?” said Arthur hoarsely.

“Oh, that’s all ready,” said Josh laughing; “but you ain’t had a touch yet.”

“N–no—I’m not sure,” said Arthur; “something seemed heavy at the end of the line.”

“Four pound o’ lead, my lad, is heavy,” said Josh, smiling. “You’ll know when you get a conger.”

“Hadn’t—hadn’t we better fish for something else, as the congers don’t bite?”

“How do you know as they don’t bite?” said Josh good-humouredly.

“They—they don’t seem to,” said Arthur. “Perhaps the bait’s off. Had we better see?”

“Oh, no; that bait isn’t off,” said Josh quietly. “You bide a bit, my lad. Congers don’t care about light when they’re feeding. You’ll see when the sun’s well down.”

“But I’d rather fish for mackerel, I think,” said Arthur as he gazed down into the dark water, and seemed to see twining monsters coming up to pluck him out of the boat.

“Couldn’t ketch mack’rel here, my lad. This is a conger hole. Reg’lar home for ’em among these rocks. Will and me found ’em out: nobody else comes and fishes here. We found this hole.”

“Ahoy! here’s a game. Oh, don’t he pull! Oh, my hands!” cried Dick.

“Let me take him,” said Will.

“No, no, I’ll catch him!” cried Dick excitedly. “I’ve got such a big one, Taff; he’s trying to pull my arms out of the sockets!”

Tug—pull—jerk—drag—the line was running here and there; and if Dick had not twisted it round his hands it would have been drawn through them. As it was, it cut into them, but he held on like a hero.

“Let the line go!” Will kept saying—“let the line go!” but Dick did not seem to understand. If he did, he was not disposed to let it run, and, as he thought, lose the fish; and so he dragged and hauled hand over hand, with Arthur shivering and ready, but for sheer shame, to get right away in the bows, as the struggle went on.

“Here he is!” cried Dick at last. “Oh, what a monster! and how he pulls!”

Arthur did not turn his head, and so he saw nothing of what followed, for he felt sick with dread; but there was a scuffling and a splashing, then a beating and flapping in the boat.

“Keep him clear of the line, Will, lad!” said Josh.

“Right!” was the laconic reply; and then there were two or three heavy dull blows, as if some one were striking something soft. And now Arthur turned round to see that Will had the great head of an eel between his knees, out of which he cleverly twisted the hook, and held the slowly writhing creature up at arm’s-length.

“Oh, what a monster!” cried Dick.

“Only a little one,” said Will, laughing. “It is not above fifteen or sixteen pounds.”

“Why, how big do they grow, then?” cried Dick, as the eel was thrown into the locker and the lid shut down.

“I’ve seen them ninety pounds!” said Will. “Josh, there, saw one a hundred. Didn’t you, Josh?”

“Hundred and three pounds and an half!” said Josh. “We shall have some sport to-night!”

Chapter Twenty Four.Arthur catches his first Conger, and takes a Lesson in something else.“Oh!” shouted Arthur; “oh! something’s pulling me out of the—”Boat he would have said, for he had turned the line round his right-hand to keep the lead from the bottom; and all at once it had seemed to him that there was a slight quiver of the line; then it was drawn softly a little way, and then there was a heavy sustained pull that took his arm over the side, and he seemed as if he were about to follow it, only Josh leaned towards him, and took hold of the line beyond his hand.“Untwist it, my lad; don’t turn it round your fingers like that. That’s right. Now, take hold with both hands.”“But I can’t hold it!” cried Arthur, who was shivering with excitement.“Oh, yes! you can, my lad,” said Josh coolly. “I’ll show you. Now, hold tight.”Arthur clung to the line with both hands in desperation; and it seemed to him that the great fish at the end of it was trying to draw his shoulders out of their sockets.“It’s too hard. It cuts my hands. It’s horrible!”“Let him go, then,” said Josh laughing; “there’s plenty of line. Let it run through your hands.”“It burns them,” cried Arthur desperately. “Ah!” he exclaimed with a sigh of delight, “it’s gone!”“Haul in the line, then!” said Josh grimly, while Will, who knew what it meant, touched Dick on the shoulder so that he should watch.Arthur began to haul in the slack line for a few feet, and then he shouted again:“Here’s another one bigger than the last!” he cried. “I cannot hold it.”“Let it go, then,” said Josh; and Arthur once more slackened the line, which ran fast for a yard, and then fell loose.“He’s gone now!” said Arthur, hauling in the line; and then in a tone of voice so despairing that his brother burst into a hearty laugh: “Here’s another at it now!”“I say, what a place this is, Taff!” cried Dick. “Here, let me help you!”“No, no,” cried Josh; “you let him ketch the conger himself. Slacken, my lad.”As if moved by a spring, or disciplined to obey the slightest word of command, Arthur slackened the line.“Now, then, haul again,” cried Josh; and the boy pulled in the line eagerly, as if moved by the idea that the sooner he got the hook out of the water the less likelihood would there be of its being seized by one or other of the monsters that inhabited the rocky hole.“He has got it again!” cried Arthur in tones of anguish; “he’ll pull me in!”“Oh, no, he won’t; you’re a-going to pull him out, if he don’t mind his eye,” said Josh sturdily. “You’ve got some brains, young gentleman, and he arn’t.”“But there must be a swarm there after my bait,” pleaded Arthur.“Not there,” cried Josh. “There’s one got it.”“But I’ve had three or four on, and they’ve gone again.”“Oh, no! you haven’t,” said Josh; “conger eels often do like that. You pull hard; he pulls hard and tries to get to the bottom. You slack the line, and as there’s nobody pulling up, he comes to see what’s the matter. Now, slacken!”Arthur let the line run.“Now haul again.”The boy drew in the line, and gained nearly twice as much as he had let out before there was a tremendous drag again, and as Arthur held on with both hands his arms quivered.“Ease him a little—now pull—ease again—now pull!” cried Josh, over and over, till, giving and taking like this, Arthur had drawn the heavy lead nearly to the surface of the water, and for a moment he thought the dark little object going here and there was the eel; but directly after he saw a great wavy blue-black line some feet down, and that all at once turned to one that was creamy white, then dark, then light again, as the conger writhed over and over.“I’ve got one too!” cried Dick; and his attention, like that of Will, was taken from what went on upon the starboard side of the boat, leaving Arthur to the care of Josh.“Josh!—please,” faltered Arthur, as he clung to the line in an agony of dread, too much alarmed now even to let go. “Josh—pray—pray cut the line!”“No, no, no! you don’t mean that,” whispered back Josh encouragingly. “You mean get my little axe, and kill my gentleman as soon as he’s aboard.”“Yes, yes. No, no,” whispered Arthur. “Pray, pray, don’t bring that horrible thing into the boat!”“Not till he’s dead, you mean,” said Josh, in a low voice, so that Dick and Will could not hear. “You’re not scared of a gashly old conger like that? You hang on to the line, my lad. You’ve got plenty of pluck, only you arn’t used to it. Now, you see, ease him a bit.”Arthur involuntarily slackened the line, and the eel ceased its backward drag and swam up.“Now, haul again—just a bit,” said Josh, standing there with the gaff in his perfect hand, keen axe in the deformed.Arthur obeyed and dragged the writhing serpentine creature close to the surface. Then, quick as thought, Josh had the great snaky fish by the head with his short sharp gaff-hook, drew it over the gunwale, and before Arthur could realise what was done the axe had descended with a dull thud, and Josh dragged the quivering half inert conger over the side and forward, clear of the line and away from Arthur.“There!” cried Josh, as he cleverly extricated the hook with the disgorger; “you come and look at him, Master Arthur. He can’t bite now, and I’m holding him down.”There was so much quiet firmness in the fisherman’s words that Arthur felt himself constrained to go forward and look at the great snaky fish as it heaved and curved its springy body in the bottom of the boat.“A reg’lar good fat one,” said Josh. “She be a bit ugly, sure enough, and I’ve seen many a boy in my time scared by the gashly things. It was your first one, Master Arthur, and you caught him, and I say as you warn’t a bit scared.”“I—I couldn’t help being a little afraid,” said Arthur slowly; “but look! look! it’s biting the rope.”“Ay, but it has no strength to bite now,” said Josh. “There, we’ll put um in the well, and let um lie there. You caught um—fine eight-and-thirty pound if it be an ounce. Now you shall catch another.”“What!” gasped Arthur.“I say, now you shall catch another,” said Josh sturdily, as he leaned over the side and washed disgorger, axe, and hook. “You won’t mind half so much next time, and then your brother won’t be able to crow over you.”“I don’t want to catch any more, thank you,” said Arthur.“Oh, yes, you do,” said Josh, in his quiet stubborn fashion. “Don’t you say you don’t. It won’t be half so startling ketching the next one, and I’ve got a tender well-beaten bit of squid for the next bait—one as will tempt the biggest conger that is in the hole.”“No, no!” whispered Arthur. “I don’t want to fish any more; I don’t indeed.”“Hush!” whispered Josh; “you’ll have them hear.”Arthur was silent directly, and just then his fright was at its height with the conger that Dick had hooked, and that Will gaffed and hauled in. For as Will struck at it with the conger-bat or club, instead of there coming a dull thud as the blow fell, there was the sharp tap of wood upon wood.Will had missed this time, and the conger was apparently starting on a voyage of discovery about the boat.Arthur shrank back, but before the fish could come his way and tangle the lines Will caught Dick’s about a yard above the hook, dragged the fish towards the stern, and gave it four or five paralysing blows in succession, disabling it, so that he soon had the hook out, and he and Dick stood looking at each other and panting with excitement.“Hor—hor—hor!” laughed Josh quietly as he seated himself on the thwart and leisurely began to pass the hook through the grey piece of tough soft cuttle-fish. “Look at ’em, Master Rawthur, there be a fuss over a conger not above half as big as ourn.”“It was ever so much stronger,” cried Dick indignantly.“Hear him, Mast Rorthur!” cried Josh. “Hor—hor—hor! There, go on, you two. We’re going to give you a startler this time. There you are, sir,” he whispered, holding up the bait for Arthur to see. “That’s one as’ll tempt um, and you see we’ll have another big one before they know where they are. I say, you won’t be scared of the next, will you, now?”“I’ll—I’ll try not to be,” whispered Arthur, drawing a long breath.“Then you won’t be,” whispered Josh. “That’s the way: in with the lead. Of course they’re awk’ard things for any boy to tackle at first. I was downright frightened first one I hooked, when I was ’bout as old as you, and it warn’t above half the size of the one you ketched.”“Were you really frightened of it?” said Arthur in the same low tone.“Frightened, Master Taffarthur! Why, my cap come off and fell in the water, and I had to up with the killick and row after it.”“But that didn’t show you were frightened.”“Didn’t it though, sir? Why, it was my hair rose up in such a gashly way it lifted it off. There, now, hold steady, and it won’t be long before you have a bite.”It was getting so dark now that Arthur could not see whether Josh was laughing at him or not, though for the matter of that, if it had been noontide, he would not have been able to make out the rough fisherman’s thoughts by the expression of his countenance.A splash from behind them told them that Dick’s bait had just gone in, and then they sat—both couples—chatting away in a low tone, and waiting for the next congers, and somehow waiting in vain. The last glow faded out of the sky, and the stars twinkled in the sea, where they were reflected from above. The great black bird rock stood up, looking gigantic against the western sky, and every now and then there was a querulous cry that set a party of the sea-birds scolding and squealing for a few minutes before all was still again.In the distance across the bay the lights of the harbour shone out faintly at first, then clearly, and the various lamps about the village seemed like dull stars.Still there was no bite, and Arthur rejoiced in his heart, hoping that they would catch no more, and thinking how horrible it would have been to have one of the monsters on board in the dark.Josh had changed the position of Arthur’s line several times, and at last he took hold of it and began to haul it in.“Going to leave off?” said Arthur joyously.“No, my lad, not yet. You won’t mind me throwing in for you?”“Oh no!” cried the boy.“Then,” said Josh, “I’m just going to throw over yonder into the deepest part, and if we don’t get one out of there we may give up.”Drawing in and laying the line carefully in rings, he took the weight and threw it some distance from them, the lead falling with a heavy plash. Then Dick and Will followed suit on their side, and Arthur was compelled to take the line again from Josh, for the latter said:“Oh no! I’m not going to fish. I can have a turn any day, my lad. Go on, and we’ll show ’em this time what it is to fish again’ us. A mussy me! we’ll give ’em a startler directly. We’ll show ’em what conger be.”Arthur’s hands felt cold and damp as he sat there holding: the line and thinking of what would be the consequences if he hooked a monster and Josh failed to kill it before dragging it on board. It would run all over the boat, and it would be sure to bite him first—he knew it would; and the idea was horrible, making him so nervous that his hands shook as he held the line.It was quite dark now, but a beautiful transparent darkness, with the sky one glorious arch of glittering points, and the sea a mirror in which those diamond sparks were reflected. The phosphorescence that had been so beautiful on the night when his brother was out with Josh and Will was absent, save a faint pale glow now and then, seen when a wave curled over and broke upon the great bird rock. All was wonderfully still, and they sat for some time listening to the distant singing of some of the fishermen, whose voices sounded deliciously soft and melodious as the tones of the old west-country part-song floated over the heaving sea.Suddenly Arthur started, for Dick exclaimed:“This is just lovely. I wish father were here.”“Ay! I wish he weer,” said Josh. “I often pity you poor people who come from big towns and don’t know what it is to be in such a place as this. Beautiful, arn’t it, Master Rorthur, sir?”“Ye–es,” said Arthur, “it’s a beautiful night.”“Ay, it be,” assented Josh; “and in a snug harbour like this there’s no fear of a steamer or ship coming to run you down.”Arthur shuddered.“Rather awkward for them among the rocks, eh, Josh?” said Will.“Awk’ard arn’t the word,” said Josh. “’Member the Cape packet being wrecked here, my lad?”“Oh, yes! I recollect it well,” said Will. “It was just here, wasn’t it?”“Just yonder,” said Josh. “She went on the rocks about ten fathom beyond where our grapnel lies.”“Was anyone hurt?” said Arthur, who shivered at the idea of a wreck having been anywhere near them.“Hurt, my lad? Why, it was in one of the worst storms I can ’member. Tell him about the poor souls, Will.”“The packet ran right on the rocks, Master Arthur,” said Will solemnly. “Where we are is one mass of tossing foam in a storm, and the froth and spray fly over the Mew Rock here. Directly the packet had struck a great wave came in and lifted her right up and then dropped her again across the ridge yonder, and she broke right in two.”“Like a radish,” said Josh.“And one end went down in the deep water one side, the other end the other side.”“Ay,” said Josh, “it’s very deep water out there, and they used to be at work regular for months and months getting out the cargo and engines when the weather was calm.”“But the people—the people?” cried Arthur. “What became of them?”“Hah!” ejaculated Josh. “What come o’ them?”“Were they drowned?” said Dick.“Every poor creature on board,” said Will.“And none of you fishermen went out in your boats to help them?” cried Dick indignantly.“Just hark at him,” cried Josh. “A mussy me! He’s never seed the sea in a storm when— Look out, Master Awthur,” he whispered.It was pretty dark, but Josh’s eyes were accustomed to that transparent gloom, and he had noted a tremulous motion of the boy’s line almost before Arthur started, for there was a gentle, insidious touch at his bait that telegraphed along the line to his fingers, and then drew it softly through them as the fish, whatever it was, took the bait and began to swim away.Arthur started as Josh whispered to him, and his fingers closed upon the line.The moment before this latter was moving as if some tiny fish were drawing it from him; but the moment his closing hands checked the line’s progress there was a tremendous jerk and a rush; and as, in spite of himself, Arthur held on, it seemed as if a boy a good deal stronger than himself were trying to pull it out of his hands, and after a few furious struggles seated himself, to hang at the end with his whole weight.“I told you so,” said Josh in satisfied tones. “I knowed as well as could be that there would be a big one down yonder, and I think it is a big one, eh, Master Rawthur.”“It’s—it’s a monster,” panted Arthur. “Hadn’t we better let it go?”“Let it do what?” cried Josh. “A mussy me! what do he mean?”“Oh! I say, Taff, you are a lucky one,” cried Dick in genuine disappointed tones. “On! all right, we’ve got one too.”“Lucky one!” At that moment Arthur was bitterly repenting his want of foresight. Both hands were engaged now or he might have got out his pocketknife and, unseen by Josh in the darkness, have cut the line, which would have been supposed to be broken by the violent struggles of the great eel.“I’ll never come again,” he thought to himself, “if ever I get safely back. I would not have come if I had known. Oh! what shall I do?”These are a specimen or two of the thoughts that ran through Arthur Temple’s brains as he clung desperately to the line with the conger or whatever it was at the end tugging and jerking at it hard enough to make the boy’s shoulders sore.“Steady! steady!” cried Josh, interfering. “That’s not the way to ketch conger. Give him line, as I showed you afore. There, you see,” he continued, as Arthur slackened the cord. “Eh, ’ullo! Why, what’s up?” he exclaimed. “Here, give me hold.”Arthur passed the line to him with a sigh of intense relief, and Josh gave way, hauled, and tried three or four different little plans before passing the line back to Arthur.“Here, you ketch hold,” he cried. “It’s a big one and no mistake. He has got his tail twisted round a bit of rock, or he’s half in a hole, or something. Don’t let him shake you like that, my lad, but give him line when he snatches you. He’s half in a hole as sure as can be, and if we hauled we should only break the line.”“What are we to do?” said Arthur, his words coming in pants. “Shall we leave the line and go?”“Leave the line, my lad!” cried Josh. “Well, that arn’t very likely. No, no: lines are too vallerble, and instead of giving the conger the line, we’ll get him aboard.”“But how? It won’t come,” said Arthur peevishly.“You must coax him same as I showed you before. Fishers wants patience—waiting for what they catches, undoing tangles in nets and lines, and dealing with conger. Don’t you see, my lad, if you haul so does the conger: he’s frightened, and he fights for his life; but as soon as you leave off hauling, so does he, and begins to uncurve and untwist himself. Then’s your time to haul him out of the rocks, before he has time to anchor himself again.”It seemed to Arthur as if he had no power to disobey Josh. Shame, too, supported the fisherman, for the boy had a horror of being supposed a coward, so he acted precisely as Josh told him, giving and taking with the line, but for some time without avail, and Arthur piteously asked if it was of any use to go on.“Use! I should think so,” cried Josh. “Why, he’s a big one, and we’ve got to ketch him. Now haul, my lad, steady.”Arthur obeyed, and the violent jerking of the line began just as if the great eel were making snatches at it.“Now, give way, quick and sharp,” cried Josh.The boy did so, letting the line run over the side.“I told you so,” cried Josh, as it ran faster and faster. “He’s going away now. He’s left his hole. Now lay hold, and get him to the top quick as you can. He’ll come up now.”Josh was right, for the eel had left the rocks, intending to swim away, and when it felt the line once more it began to struggle, but on the tension being eased it swam upwards. And so on again and again, till the pale under parts of the great fish could be seen below the surface, which was swirling and eddying with the strong motions of the muscular tail.“He is a big one,” cried Josh. “Got yours in, lads?”“Yes,” cried Will.“Give us room then,” cried Josh. “Hold on tight, youngster. No, no, Will: we can do him ourselves.”For Will had changed his position to take the line from Arthur, who felt as if he should have liked to kick the fisherman for interfering at such a time.Acting like a machine in Josh’s hands, Arthur slackened and hauled, and hauled and slackened, until the great eel was right at the surface, and Josh leaning over the gunwale, waiting his opportunity to hook it with the great gaff; but though he made two or three attempts Arthur was so helpless that he rather hindered than aided the capture. At last, though, by a clever stroke Josh hooked the monster, and stretched out his hand for his little axe.As he did so there was a tremendous beating and splashing of the water, and the eel literally twisted itself into a knot upon the gaff, forming a great writhing bunch upon the shaft, and mingling line and self about the hook in the most confusing manner.Arthur had behaved as well as he could, but this was too much for him. Dropping the line, he let himself fall backwards over the seat, scrambled forward on hands and knees, rose up, and was getting into the narrow portion of the boat in the bows, when he stepped upon something slippery and fell right upon a living eel, the one Dick had just captured.“Oh, oh!” yelled Arthur, starting up and bounding back amidships, to fall once more, with his hands upon the huge slimy knot that Josh had just dragged on board.“A mussy me!” groaned Josh, as he vainly tried to get a stroke at the great eel’s head with the axe. “Here, look alive, Will, lad; give him the bat.” Dick followed his brother’s example and got as far out of the way as he could, while quite an exciting fight went on, if fight it can be called where the offence comes entirely from one side, and the other is winding in and out among legs and seats, fishing-lines and baskets, trying to get away. It was so dark that it was next to impossible to see where the monster was; and though Will struck at it fiercely with the bat, he more often struck the boat than the fish.Josh, too, made some cuts at it with the axe, but he only missed, and he was afraid to do more for fear he should drive the weapon through the bottom of the boat.“She’s free o’ the line now,” cried Josh, who was not aware that one chop he had given had divided the stout cord. “Let her go now, Will, lad. She won’t get out of the boat.”“All right!” said Will coolly; and Arthur uttered a groan; but just then, to his great relief, Dick spoke out.“What! are you going to leave that thing crawling about in the boat while we go home?” he said.“Ay, my lad; she won’t hurt.”“Thankye,” said Dick. “I’m going overboard then to be towed.”“Hor—hor—hor!” laughed Josh. “Well, all right, my lad, we’ll light the lanthorn, and then p’r’aps I can get a cut at her. Where’s the matches, Will? Hallo!”For just then there was a tremendous scuffling in the fore part of the boat, as the great eel forced itself amongst the spare rope and odds and ends of the fishing gear. Then there was a faint gleam seen for a moment on the gunwale, and a splash, and then silence.“Why, she’s gone,” cried Josh.“What! Over the side?” cried Dick.“Ay, lad, sure enough; and the biggest one we took to-night, and my best conger-hook in her mouth.”Arthur uttered a sigh of relief that was almost a sob, and sitting down very quietly he listened to the talking of his three companions, as the anchor and killick were got up, and the boat was rowed across the starry bay, to reach the landing-place about half an hour before the expected time, Mr Temple being in waiting, and pacing to and fro upon the pier.“Caught any?” he said.“Yes, father, lots, but the big one got away,” cried Dick.“How did you get on, Arthur?” said Mr Temple. “Were you very much alarmed?”Arthur would have honestly said, “Yes;” but before he could speak, Josh exclaimed:“’Haved hisself like a trump, sir. Him and me got all the big uns; and it’s no joke ketching your first conger, as p’r’aps you know.”

“Oh!” shouted Arthur; “oh! something’s pulling me out of the—”

Boat he would have said, for he had turned the line round his right-hand to keep the lead from the bottom; and all at once it had seemed to him that there was a slight quiver of the line; then it was drawn softly a little way, and then there was a heavy sustained pull that took his arm over the side, and he seemed as if he were about to follow it, only Josh leaned towards him, and took hold of the line beyond his hand.

“Untwist it, my lad; don’t turn it round your fingers like that. That’s right. Now, take hold with both hands.”

“But I can’t hold it!” cried Arthur, who was shivering with excitement.

“Oh, yes! you can, my lad,” said Josh coolly. “I’ll show you. Now, hold tight.”

Arthur clung to the line with both hands in desperation; and it seemed to him that the great fish at the end of it was trying to draw his shoulders out of their sockets.

“It’s too hard. It cuts my hands. It’s horrible!”

“Let him go, then,” said Josh laughing; “there’s plenty of line. Let it run through your hands.”

“It burns them,” cried Arthur desperately. “Ah!” he exclaimed with a sigh of delight, “it’s gone!”

“Haul in the line, then!” said Josh grimly, while Will, who knew what it meant, touched Dick on the shoulder so that he should watch.

Arthur began to haul in the slack line for a few feet, and then he shouted again:

“Here’s another one bigger than the last!” he cried. “I cannot hold it.”

“Let it go, then,” said Josh; and Arthur once more slackened the line, which ran fast for a yard, and then fell loose.

“He’s gone now!” said Arthur, hauling in the line; and then in a tone of voice so despairing that his brother burst into a hearty laugh: “Here’s another at it now!”

“I say, what a place this is, Taff!” cried Dick. “Here, let me help you!”

“No, no,” cried Josh; “you let him ketch the conger himself. Slacken, my lad.”

As if moved by a spring, or disciplined to obey the slightest word of command, Arthur slackened the line.

“Now, then, haul again,” cried Josh; and the boy pulled in the line eagerly, as if moved by the idea that the sooner he got the hook out of the water the less likelihood would there be of its being seized by one or other of the monsters that inhabited the rocky hole.

“He has got it again!” cried Arthur in tones of anguish; “he’ll pull me in!”

“Oh, no, he won’t; you’re a-going to pull him out, if he don’t mind his eye,” said Josh sturdily. “You’ve got some brains, young gentleman, and he arn’t.”

“But there must be a swarm there after my bait,” pleaded Arthur.

“Not there,” cried Josh. “There’s one got it.”

“But I’ve had three or four on, and they’ve gone again.”

“Oh, no! you haven’t,” said Josh; “conger eels often do like that. You pull hard; he pulls hard and tries to get to the bottom. You slack the line, and as there’s nobody pulling up, he comes to see what’s the matter. Now, slacken!”

Arthur let the line run.

“Now haul again.”

The boy drew in the line, and gained nearly twice as much as he had let out before there was a tremendous drag again, and as Arthur held on with both hands his arms quivered.

“Ease him a little—now pull—ease again—now pull!” cried Josh, over and over, till, giving and taking like this, Arthur had drawn the heavy lead nearly to the surface of the water, and for a moment he thought the dark little object going here and there was the eel; but directly after he saw a great wavy blue-black line some feet down, and that all at once turned to one that was creamy white, then dark, then light again, as the conger writhed over and over.

“I’ve got one too!” cried Dick; and his attention, like that of Will, was taken from what went on upon the starboard side of the boat, leaving Arthur to the care of Josh.

“Josh!—please,” faltered Arthur, as he clung to the line in an agony of dread, too much alarmed now even to let go. “Josh—pray—pray cut the line!”

“No, no, no! you don’t mean that,” whispered back Josh encouragingly. “You mean get my little axe, and kill my gentleman as soon as he’s aboard.”

“Yes, yes. No, no,” whispered Arthur. “Pray, pray, don’t bring that horrible thing into the boat!”

“Not till he’s dead, you mean,” said Josh, in a low voice, so that Dick and Will could not hear. “You’re not scared of a gashly old conger like that? You hang on to the line, my lad. You’ve got plenty of pluck, only you arn’t used to it. Now, you see, ease him a bit.”

Arthur involuntarily slackened the line, and the eel ceased its backward drag and swam up.

“Now, haul again—just a bit,” said Josh, standing there with the gaff in his perfect hand, keen axe in the deformed.

Arthur obeyed and dragged the writhing serpentine creature close to the surface. Then, quick as thought, Josh had the great snaky fish by the head with his short sharp gaff-hook, drew it over the gunwale, and before Arthur could realise what was done the axe had descended with a dull thud, and Josh dragged the quivering half inert conger over the side and forward, clear of the line and away from Arthur.

“There!” cried Josh, as he cleverly extricated the hook with the disgorger; “you come and look at him, Master Arthur. He can’t bite now, and I’m holding him down.”

There was so much quiet firmness in the fisherman’s words that Arthur felt himself constrained to go forward and look at the great snaky fish as it heaved and curved its springy body in the bottom of the boat.

“A reg’lar good fat one,” said Josh. “She be a bit ugly, sure enough, and I’ve seen many a boy in my time scared by the gashly things. It was your first one, Master Arthur, and you caught him, and I say as you warn’t a bit scared.”

“I—I couldn’t help being a little afraid,” said Arthur slowly; “but look! look! it’s biting the rope.”

“Ay, but it has no strength to bite now,” said Josh. “There, we’ll put um in the well, and let um lie there. You caught um—fine eight-and-thirty pound if it be an ounce. Now you shall catch another.”

“What!” gasped Arthur.

“I say, now you shall catch another,” said Josh sturdily, as he leaned over the side and washed disgorger, axe, and hook. “You won’t mind half so much next time, and then your brother won’t be able to crow over you.”

“I don’t want to catch any more, thank you,” said Arthur.

“Oh, yes, you do,” said Josh, in his quiet stubborn fashion. “Don’t you say you don’t. It won’t be half so startling ketching the next one, and I’ve got a tender well-beaten bit of squid for the next bait—one as will tempt the biggest conger that is in the hole.”

“No, no!” whispered Arthur. “I don’t want to fish any more; I don’t indeed.”

“Hush!” whispered Josh; “you’ll have them hear.”

Arthur was silent directly, and just then his fright was at its height with the conger that Dick had hooked, and that Will gaffed and hauled in. For as Will struck at it with the conger-bat or club, instead of there coming a dull thud as the blow fell, there was the sharp tap of wood upon wood.

Will had missed this time, and the conger was apparently starting on a voyage of discovery about the boat.

Arthur shrank back, but before the fish could come his way and tangle the lines Will caught Dick’s about a yard above the hook, dragged the fish towards the stern, and gave it four or five paralysing blows in succession, disabling it, so that he soon had the hook out, and he and Dick stood looking at each other and panting with excitement.

“Hor—hor—hor!” laughed Josh quietly as he seated himself on the thwart and leisurely began to pass the hook through the grey piece of tough soft cuttle-fish. “Look at ’em, Master Rawthur, there be a fuss over a conger not above half as big as ourn.”

“It was ever so much stronger,” cried Dick indignantly.

“Hear him, Mast Rorthur!” cried Josh. “Hor—hor—hor! There, go on, you two. We’re going to give you a startler this time. There you are, sir,” he whispered, holding up the bait for Arthur to see. “That’s one as’ll tempt um, and you see we’ll have another big one before they know where they are. I say, you won’t be scared of the next, will you, now?”

“I’ll—I’ll try not to be,” whispered Arthur, drawing a long breath.

“Then you won’t be,” whispered Josh. “That’s the way: in with the lead. Of course they’re awk’ard things for any boy to tackle at first. I was downright frightened first one I hooked, when I was ’bout as old as you, and it warn’t above half the size of the one you ketched.”

“Were you really frightened of it?” said Arthur in the same low tone.

“Frightened, Master Taffarthur! Why, my cap come off and fell in the water, and I had to up with the killick and row after it.”

“But that didn’t show you were frightened.”

“Didn’t it though, sir? Why, it was my hair rose up in such a gashly way it lifted it off. There, now, hold steady, and it won’t be long before you have a bite.”

It was getting so dark now that Arthur could not see whether Josh was laughing at him or not, though for the matter of that, if it had been noontide, he would not have been able to make out the rough fisherman’s thoughts by the expression of his countenance.

A splash from behind them told them that Dick’s bait had just gone in, and then they sat—both couples—chatting away in a low tone, and waiting for the next congers, and somehow waiting in vain. The last glow faded out of the sky, and the stars twinkled in the sea, where they were reflected from above. The great black bird rock stood up, looking gigantic against the western sky, and every now and then there was a querulous cry that set a party of the sea-birds scolding and squealing for a few minutes before all was still again.

In the distance across the bay the lights of the harbour shone out faintly at first, then clearly, and the various lamps about the village seemed like dull stars.

Still there was no bite, and Arthur rejoiced in his heart, hoping that they would catch no more, and thinking how horrible it would have been to have one of the monsters on board in the dark.

Josh had changed the position of Arthur’s line several times, and at last he took hold of it and began to haul it in.

“Going to leave off?” said Arthur joyously.

“No, my lad, not yet. You won’t mind me throwing in for you?”

“Oh no!” cried the boy.

“Then,” said Josh, “I’m just going to throw over yonder into the deepest part, and if we don’t get one out of there we may give up.”

Drawing in and laying the line carefully in rings, he took the weight and threw it some distance from them, the lead falling with a heavy plash. Then Dick and Will followed suit on their side, and Arthur was compelled to take the line again from Josh, for the latter said:

“Oh no! I’m not going to fish. I can have a turn any day, my lad. Go on, and we’ll show ’em this time what it is to fish again’ us. A mussy me! we’ll give ’em a startler directly. We’ll show ’em what conger be.”

Arthur’s hands felt cold and damp as he sat there holding: the line and thinking of what would be the consequences if he hooked a monster and Josh failed to kill it before dragging it on board. It would run all over the boat, and it would be sure to bite him first—he knew it would; and the idea was horrible, making him so nervous that his hands shook as he held the line.

It was quite dark now, but a beautiful transparent darkness, with the sky one glorious arch of glittering points, and the sea a mirror in which those diamond sparks were reflected. The phosphorescence that had been so beautiful on the night when his brother was out with Josh and Will was absent, save a faint pale glow now and then, seen when a wave curled over and broke upon the great bird rock. All was wonderfully still, and they sat for some time listening to the distant singing of some of the fishermen, whose voices sounded deliciously soft and melodious as the tones of the old west-country part-song floated over the heaving sea.

Suddenly Arthur started, for Dick exclaimed:

“This is just lovely. I wish father were here.”

“Ay! I wish he weer,” said Josh. “I often pity you poor people who come from big towns and don’t know what it is to be in such a place as this. Beautiful, arn’t it, Master Rorthur, sir?”

“Ye–es,” said Arthur, “it’s a beautiful night.”

“Ay, it be,” assented Josh; “and in a snug harbour like this there’s no fear of a steamer or ship coming to run you down.”

Arthur shuddered.

“Rather awkward for them among the rocks, eh, Josh?” said Will.

“Awk’ard arn’t the word,” said Josh. “’Member the Cape packet being wrecked here, my lad?”

“Oh, yes! I recollect it well,” said Will. “It was just here, wasn’t it?”

“Just yonder,” said Josh. “She went on the rocks about ten fathom beyond where our grapnel lies.”

“Was anyone hurt?” said Arthur, who shivered at the idea of a wreck having been anywhere near them.

“Hurt, my lad? Why, it was in one of the worst storms I can ’member. Tell him about the poor souls, Will.”

“The packet ran right on the rocks, Master Arthur,” said Will solemnly. “Where we are is one mass of tossing foam in a storm, and the froth and spray fly over the Mew Rock here. Directly the packet had struck a great wave came in and lifted her right up and then dropped her again across the ridge yonder, and she broke right in two.”

“Like a radish,” said Josh.

“And one end went down in the deep water one side, the other end the other side.”

“Ay,” said Josh, “it’s very deep water out there, and they used to be at work regular for months and months getting out the cargo and engines when the weather was calm.”

“But the people—the people?” cried Arthur. “What became of them?”

“Hah!” ejaculated Josh. “What come o’ them?”

“Were they drowned?” said Dick.

“Every poor creature on board,” said Will.

“And none of you fishermen went out in your boats to help them?” cried Dick indignantly.

“Just hark at him,” cried Josh. “A mussy me! He’s never seed the sea in a storm when— Look out, Master Awthur,” he whispered.

It was pretty dark, but Josh’s eyes were accustomed to that transparent gloom, and he had noted a tremulous motion of the boy’s line almost before Arthur started, for there was a gentle, insidious touch at his bait that telegraphed along the line to his fingers, and then drew it softly through them as the fish, whatever it was, took the bait and began to swim away.

Arthur started as Josh whispered to him, and his fingers closed upon the line.

The moment before this latter was moving as if some tiny fish were drawing it from him; but the moment his closing hands checked the line’s progress there was a tremendous jerk and a rush; and as, in spite of himself, Arthur held on, it seemed as if a boy a good deal stronger than himself were trying to pull it out of his hands, and after a few furious struggles seated himself, to hang at the end with his whole weight.

“I told you so,” said Josh in satisfied tones. “I knowed as well as could be that there would be a big one down yonder, and I think it is a big one, eh, Master Rawthur.”

“It’s—it’s a monster,” panted Arthur. “Hadn’t we better let it go?”

“Let it do what?” cried Josh. “A mussy me! what do he mean?”

“Oh! I say, Taff, you are a lucky one,” cried Dick in genuine disappointed tones. “On! all right, we’ve got one too.”

“Lucky one!” At that moment Arthur was bitterly repenting his want of foresight. Both hands were engaged now or he might have got out his pocketknife and, unseen by Josh in the darkness, have cut the line, which would have been supposed to be broken by the violent struggles of the great eel.

“I’ll never come again,” he thought to himself, “if ever I get safely back. I would not have come if I had known. Oh! what shall I do?”

These are a specimen or two of the thoughts that ran through Arthur Temple’s brains as he clung desperately to the line with the conger or whatever it was at the end tugging and jerking at it hard enough to make the boy’s shoulders sore.

“Steady! steady!” cried Josh, interfering. “That’s not the way to ketch conger. Give him line, as I showed you afore. There, you see,” he continued, as Arthur slackened the cord. “Eh, ’ullo! Why, what’s up?” he exclaimed. “Here, give me hold.”

Arthur passed the line to him with a sigh of intense relief, and Josh gave way, hauled, and tried three or four different little plans before passing the line back to Arthur.

“Here, you ketch hold,” he cried. “It’s a big one and no mistake. He has got his tail twisted round a bit of rock, or he’s half in a hole, or something. Don’t let him shake you like that, my lad, but give him line when he snatches you. He’s half in a hole as sure as can be, and if we hauled we should only break the line.”

“What are we to do?” said Arthur, his words coming in pants. “Shall we leave the line and go?”

“Leave the line, my lad!” cried Josh. “Well, that arn’t very likely. No, no: lines are too vallerble, and instead of giving the conger the line, we’ll get him aboard.”

“But how? It won’t come,” said Arthur peevishly.

“You must coax him same as I showed you before. Fishers wants patience—waiting for what they catches, undoing tangles in nets and lines, and dealing with conger. Don’t you see, my lad, if you haul so does the conger: he’s frightened, and he fights for his life; but as soon as you leave off hauling, so does he, and begins to uncurve and untwist himself. Then’s your time to haul him out of the rocks, before he has time to anchor himself again.”

It seemed to Arthur as if he had no power to disobey Josh. Shame, too, supported the fisherman, for the boy had a horror of being supposed a coward, so he acted precisely as Josh told him, giving and taking with the line, but for some time without avail, and Arthur piteously asked if it was of any use to go on.

“Use! I should think so,” cried Josh. “Why, he’s a big one, and we’ve got to ketch him. Now haul, my lad, steady.”

Arthur obeyed, and the violent jerking of the line began just as if the great eel were making snatches at it.

“Now, give way, quick and sharp,” cried Josh.

The boy did so, letting the line run over the side.

“I told you so,” cried Josh, as it ran faster and faster. “He’s going away now. He’s left his hole. Now lay hold, and get him to the top quick as you can. He’ll come up now.”

Josh was right, for the eel had left the rocks, intending to swim away, and when it felt the line once more it began to struggle, but on the tension being eased it swam upwards. And so on again and again, till the pale under parts of the great fish could be seen below the surface, which was swirling and eddying with the strong motions of the muscular tail.

“He is a big one,” cried Josh. “Got yours in, lads?”

“Yes,” cried Will.

“Give us room then,” cried Josh. “Hold on tight, youngster. No, no, Will: we can do him ourselves.”

For Will had changed his position to take the line from Arthur, who felt as if he should have liked to kick the fisherman for interfering at such a time.

Acting like a machine in Josh’s hands, Arthur slackened and hauled, and hauled and slackened, until the great eel was right at the surface, and Josh leaning over the gunwale, waiting his opportunity to hook it with the great gaff; but though he made two or three attempts Arthur was so helpless that he rather hindered than aided the capture. At last, though, by a clever stroke Josh hooked the monster, and stretched out his hand for his little axe.

As he did so there was a tremendous beating and splashing of the water, and the eel literally twisted itself into a knot upon the gaff, forming a great writhing bunch upon the shaft, and mingling line and self about the hook in the most confusing manner.

Arthur had behaved as well as he could, but this was too much for him. Dropping the line, he let himself fall backwards over the seat, scrambled forward on hands and knees, rose up, and was getting into the narrow portion of the boat in the bows, when he stepped upon something slippery and fell right upon a living eel, the one Dick had just captured.

“Oh, oh!” yelled Arthur, starting up and bounding back amidships, to fall once more, with his hands upon the huge slimy knot that Josh had just dragged on board.

“A mussy me!” groaned Josh, as he vainly tried to get a stroke at the great eel’s head with the axe. “Here, look alive, Will, lad; give him the bat.” Dick followed his brother’s example and got as far out of the way as he could, while quite an exciting fight went on, if fight it can be called where the offence comes entirely from one side, and the other is winding in and out among legs and seats, fishing-lines and baskets, trying to get away. It was so dark that it was next to impossible to see where the monster was; and though Will struck at it fiercely with the bat, he more often struck the boat than the fish.

Josh, too, made some cuts at it with the axe, but he only missed, and he was afraid to do more for fear he should drive the weapon through the bottom of the boat.

“She’s free o’ the line now,” cried Josh, who was not aware that one chop he had given had divided the stout cord. “Let her go now, Will, lad. She won’t get out of the boat.”

“All right!” said Will coolly; and Arthur uttered a groan; but just then, to his great relief, Dick spoke out.

“What! are you going to leave that thing crawling about in the boat while we go home?” he said.

“Ay, my lad; she won’t hurt.”

“Thankye,” said Dick. “I’m going overboard then to be towed.”

“Hor—hor—hor!” laughed Josh. “Well, all right, my lad, we’ll light the lanthorn, and then p’r’aps I can get a cut at her. Where’s the matches, Will? Hallo!”

For just then there was a tremendous scuffling in the fore part of the boat, as the great eel forced itself amongst the spare rope and odds and ends of the fishing gear. Then there was a faint gleam seen for a moment on the gunwale, and a splash, and then silence.

“Why, she’s gone,” cried Josh.

“What! Over the side?” cried Dick.

“Ay, lad, sure enough; and the biggest one we took to-night, and my best conger-hook in her mouth.”

Arthur uttered a sigh of relief that was almost a sob, and sitting down very quietly he listened to the talking of his three companions, as the anchor and killick were got up, and the boat was rowed across the starry bay, to reach the landing-place about half an hour before the expected time, Mr Temple being in waiting, and pacing to and fro upon the pier.

“Caught any?” he said.

“Yes, father, lots, but the big one got away,” cried Dick.

“How did you get on, Arthur?” said Mr Temple. “Were you very much alarmed?”

Arthur would have honestly said, “Yes;” but before he could speak, Josh exclaimed:

“’Haved hisself like a trump, sir. Him and me got all the big uns; and it’s no joke ketching your first conger, as p’r’aps you know.”

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