Devon Boys Part 33

"Oh, what a shame!" cried Bob. "I don't see why they should come first to old Sep. Here, I know what it is. Only an old bow-wow."

"No, it isn't," I exclaimed as I caught a glimpse of something white, looking like a slice of the moon far down below the boat. "It's a flat-fish, and a big one."

I proved to be right, as I hauled it flapping over the side, and Bigley seized what proved to be a nice plaice, and took the hook from its jaws.

As the line, being rebaited, was thrown in again, there was a serious examination of the prize, which was about to be transferred to the basket brought to hold our captures, when Bob shouted, "I've got him!"

and began to haul in with all his might.

We both adjured him to be careful, but in his excitement he paid no heed, only dragged as hard as he could, and hoisted in a long grey fish, at which he gazed with a comical aspect full of disgust.

I laughed, and as I laughed he grew more angry, for his prize was what he had previously called a "bow-wow" and attributed to me. For it was a good-sized dog-fish, one which had to be held at head and tail lest in its twining and lashing about it should strike with its spine and do some mischief.

"Here, let me take him off," cried Bob.

"No, no; you mind the line isn't tangled," cried Bigley; but Bob gave him a push, the dog-fish, which was nearly a yard long, was set free, and began to journey about amongst Bob's line, while, when he placed his foot upon its head, the fierce creature bent half round, and then let itself go like a spring, with the effect that it struck Bob's shoe so smart a blow with one of its spines that the shoe was pierced by the toe, and it required a tug to withdraw the spine.

"Are you hurt, Bob?" we both cried earnestly.

"No, not a bit. My toes don't go down as far as that. Ah, would you?"

This was to the fish, which was lashing about fiercely.

"Let me do it, Bob. I'll kill it in no time, and I know how to manage him."

"So do I," said Bob independently, as he made another attack upon the dog-fish, which resented it by a fresh stroke with its spine, this time so near to Bob's leg that he jumped back and fell over the thwart.

"I say, that was near," he cried. "You have a try, Big."

Our school-fellow wanted no second bidding, and taking hold of the line, he drew the fish's head under his right foot, pressed down its tail with his left, took out the hook, and then with his knife inflicted so serious a cut upon the creature that, when he threw it over, it only struggled feebly, as it sank slowly and was carried away.

"There's a cruel wretch!" cried Bob. "Did you see how vicious he was with his knife?"

"It isn't cruel to kill fishes like that," retorted Bigley. "See what mischief they do hunting the other fish and eating everything. See how they bite the herrings and mackerel out of the nets, only leaving their heads."

"He wouldn't have said anything if the dog had spiked him," I said.

"Why, so he did spike me," cried Bob; "and--"

"I've got another," I cried, beginning to haul up, and as I hauled Bob sent his freshly-baited and disentangled hook down to the bottom.

I had caught another flat-fish about the size of the first, and directly after Bob caught one. Then there was a pause, and I took another dog-fish, and after that we fished, and fished, and fished for about half an hour and caught nothing.

It was December, but the air was still, and we did not feel it in the slightest degree cold. I suppose it was the excitement kept us warm, for there was always the expectation of taking something big, even if the great fish never came.

Just as we were thinking that it was of no use to stay longer the fish began to bite again, and we caught several, but all small, and then all at once, as I was lowering my lead, I cried out:

"Look here! I can't touch bottom."

"Nonsense!" said Bob, lowering his line, but only to become a convert, and exclaim accordingly.

"Why, we're drifting," cried Bigley, going to the line that held the anchor, to find that it had been dragged out of the muddy sand, and that we had slowly gone with the tide into deeper water, whose bottom there was not length enough of rope for the grapnel to touch.

"I'll soon put that right," cried Bigley, unfastening the line and letting about three fathoms more run out, but even then the anchor did not reach bottom, and without we were stationary it was of no use to fish.

"Haul in your lines, lads," cried Bigley, setting us an example by dragging away at the cord which held the anchor. "We must row back a bit. We've drifted into the deep channel. I didn't know we were out so far."

"Oh, I say, look!" cried Bob. "It's beginning to rain, and we've no greatcoats."

"Never mind," said Big, getting hold of the anchor as we drew in our leads, and laid them with the hooks carefully placed aside, ready for beginning again.

"Now, then, who's going to pull along with me!"

"You pull, Sep," said Bob. "I want to count the fish."

I took an oar, and just as I was about to pull the boat's head round I looked towards the mouth of the Gap, which was nearly three-quarters of a mile away, and though at present the smooth sea was just specked here and there by the falling drops, over sh.o.r.eward there was what seemed to be a thick mist coming as it were out of the mouth of the Gap, and a curious dull roar towards where we were.

"Going to be a squall," said Bigley. "Pull away, Sep, and let's get ash.o.r.e."

Easy enough to say--difficult enough to do, as we very soon found, in spite of trying our very best.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

THE FOLLOWING NIGHT.

I have told you who did not know what our coast was like--one high wall of cliffs and hills from six hundred to a thousand feet high, with breaks where the little rivers ran down into the sea, and these breaks, after the fashion of our Gap, narrow valleys that run into the land with often extremely precipitous walls, and a course such as a lightning flash is seen to make in a storm, zigzagging across the sky.

If you do not know I may as well at once tell you what is often the effect of rowing or sailing along such a coast as ours: You may be going along in an almost calm sea for hours, perhaps, till, as you row across one of these valleys or combes, the wind suddenly comes rushing out like an enormous blast from some vast pipe. All the time, perhaps, there has been a sharp breeze blowing high up in the air, the great wall of rock preventing its striking where you are, but no sooner are you in front of the opening than you feel its power.

Beside this, all may be calm elsewhere, while down the steep-sided valley a keen blast rushes, coming from far inland, high up on the moor, where it has perhaps behaved like a whirlwind, and having finished its wild career there, has plunged down into the combe to make its escape out to sea.

It was just such a gust as this last which suddenly came upon us, raising the sea into short rough waves, and bearing upon its wings such a tremendous storm of sharp cutting rain and hail, that, after fighting against it for some time and feeling all the while that we were drifting out to sea, we ceased rowing and allowed the boat to go, in the hope that the squall would end in a few minutes as quickly as it had come on.

The rush of the wind and the beating and hissing of the rain was terribly confusing. The waves, too, lapped loudly against the sides and threatened to leap in; and while we glanced to right and left in the hope of being blown in under shelter of the land, we found that the boat was rushing through the water, our bodies answering the purpose of sails.

We crouched down together, not to diminish the power of the wind, but in that way to afford each other a little shelter from the drenching rain.

"It can't last long," shouted Bigley, for he was obliged to cry aloud to make himself heard above the shrieking of the storm.

But it did last long and kept increasing in violence. The heavens, in place of being of the soft bluish-grey that had been so pleasant when we came out, had grown black, the rain all about us was like a thick mist that shut out the sight of the cliffs, and with it the power of seeing the hissing water descend into the sea for a few yards round, we forming what seemed to be the centre of the mist.

And there we were, drive, drive before the wind at what we felt was quite a rapid rate, till all at once the rain pa.s.sed on, leaving us wet, and cold, and wretched, and ready to huddle more closely still for the sake of warmth.

But though the rain had pa.s.sed on, and it was clear behind us as it was dark ahead, while we could see the mouth of the Gap and the lowering cliffs, the wind did not cease, but seemed to be blowing more angrily than ever--with such force, indeed, that we could hardly make each other hear.

There was an unpleasant symptom of danger, too, ready to trouble us, in the shape of the waves, which made the boat dance up and down and then pitch, as it still went rapidly on farther out to sea.