Dick o' the Fens Part 35

"Howd on, lads, steady! Ah, that's moved him!"

For just then, in place of the steady strain, there were a series of short sharp s.n.a.t.c.hes.

"Eel, eel!" cried d.i.c.k; and at the end of a few minutes' exciting play, a huge eel was drawn over the side of the boat, tied up in quite a knot, into which it had thrown itself just at the last.

"Coot the band close to his neb," [mouth or beak] said Dave, and this being done, and the line saved from tangling, the captive untwisted itself, and began to explore the bottom of the boat, a fine thick fellow nearly thirty inches long, and the possibility was that it might escape over the stern, till Dave put a stop to the prospect by catching it quickly, and before it could glide out of his hand, throwing it into the basket, where the pike resented its coming by an angry flapping of the tail.

"That's better," said d.i.c.k, placing the trimmer in the other basket. "I say, Dave, would a fellow like that bite?"

"Nigh tak' your finger off: they're as strong as strong. Say, lads, shall we go home now, or try the other ligger?"

"Oh, let's get the last!" cried d.i.c.k; "there may be something on it."

Dave nodded, and poled steadily over to where the last trimmer lay off the reedy point, and perfectly motionless, till they were within ten yards, when there was a heavy swirl on the water, and the bladder dived under, reappeared a couple of dozen yards away, and went off rapidly along beside the reed-bed.

"Is that another perch?" cried Tom, as Dave began to ply his pole rapidly, and the boat was urged on in pursuit.

"Nay, that's no perch," cried Dave, who for the first time looked interested. "It's a pike, and a good one."

"Think it's that monster that took down the duck?" cried d.i.c.k.

"Nay, lad, I d'know," said the decoy-man; "all I say is that it be a girt lungeing pike o' some kind."

Dave plied his pole, and the boys, in their excitement, turned each a hand into an oar, and swept it through the water as the pursuit was kept up, for the bladder went sailing away, then stopped, and as soon as the punt drew near was off again. Sometimes it kept to the surface, but now and then, when in places where Dave's pole would not touch the bottom, no sooner did the punt glide up, than there was an eddying swirl, and the bladder was taken down out of sight.

Once or twice d.i.c.k made a dash at it with the hook, but each time to miss, and they were led a pretty dance.

"He's a girt big un, lads, a very girt big un," said Dave, as he rested for a moment or two with the end of the pole in the water, waiting for the bladder to reappear, and then rowed the punt softly in the direction in which it was gliding. "Says, shall a give 'em up?"

"No, no," cried d.i.c.k. "Here, lend me the pole. I'll soon catch him."

Dave smiled, but did not give up the pole.

"Nay, lad, I'll ketch up to un. Wait a bit; fish'll be tired 'fore Dave Gittans."

The pursuit continued in the most exasperating way, and to an onlooker it would have been exceedingly absurd, since it seemed as if the man and his companions were off oh the great mere with its open s.p.a.ces of water and islands of reeds, and lanes through them like so many little crooked ca.n.a.ls, in pursuit of a white pig's-bladder tied round the middle to make it double. There it would lie till the boat neared, and then off it went with a skim that took it twenty, thirty, or forty yards. Next time the boat neared, instead of the skim it would begin to dance as if in mockery, bobbing down whenever d.i.c.k reached over with his hook, and always keeping out of his reach, just as if a mocking spirit directed all its movements and delighted in tantalising them. Again, after a long run over the deep water, it would be quite still, and the punt would be sent forward so cautiously that the capture seemed to be a moral certainty; but so sure as d.i.c.k crept to the extreme end of the punt and reached out, there was a tremor for an instant visible on the water and the bladder disappeared.

"He must be a monster!" cried d.i.c.k, whose face was scarlet. "Oh, Dave, do go more quietly this time!"

"Let me try!" cried Tom, making a s.n.a.t.c.h at the hook.

"No! I'll have him," said d.i.c.k. "I wouldn't miss this chance for the world!"

"Ay, I'll goo up quiet-like," said Dave, pausing to give himself an opium pill before resuming his task. "Yow be quicker this time, lad--a bold dash and you'll get him!"

The double-looking bladder seemed now to be quite divided in two, for the string had grown tighter in being drawn through the water, and as it lay quite still, about forty yards from them, it looked a task that a child might have done, to go up to it softly and hook the string.

"Now!" said Dave as he propelled the boat stern foremost by working the pole behind as a fish does its tail.

"Oh! do get it this time, d.i.c.k!" panted Tom as he knelt in the boat.

"One quick dash, Mester d.i.c.k, and you hev it!"

d.i.c.k did not answer, but lay p.r.o.ne upon his chest well out over the stern of the boat, holding on with one hand, the hook stretched out over the water, ready, his heart beating and his eyes glittering with excitement.

As the punt glided on d.i.c.k's face was reflected in the dark amber-tinted water--for there was not a ripple made--but he saw nothing of the gla.s.sy surface; his eyes were riveted upon the gleaming white bladder, into which the string had cut so deeply.

Another moment or two and he would be within striking distance, but a glance at his hook showed that, perhaps from looseness in its socket, the point was turned too much away.

He had barely time to turn it, as the moment arrived to strike, and strike he did, just as the bladder was plunging down.

A yell came from behind him from Dave!

A groan from Tom!

d.i.c.k rose up in the boat with a feeling of misery and disappointment, such as he had never before experienced, for he was perfectly conscious of what he had done. The bladder had been s.n.a.t.c.hed under so quickly, that when he struck, instead of the hook going beneath and catching the string, the point had entered the bladder. He had even felt the check, and knew that he had torn a hole in the side.

"Hey, but yow've done it now, Mester d.i.c.k!" said Dave, laying the pole across the boat and sitting down.

"I couldn't help it, Dave. I did try so hard!" pleaded the lad.

"And you wouldn't let me try--obstinate!" grumbled Tom.

"Deal better you'd have done it, wouldn't you!" cried d.i.c.k in an exasperated tone.

"Done it better than that!" cried Tom hotly.

"Nay, yow wouldn't, lad," said Dave coolly. "It's a girt big un, and he's too sharp for us. Well, it's getting on and we may as well go home. He's gone! Blether wean't come to the top no more!"

"But will he take a bait again, Dave?" said d.i.c.k; "I mean, if we come another time."

"Will yow want any dinner to-morrow, lad?" said Dave, laughing. "Ay, he'll tek a bait again, sure enough, and we'll hev him some day! Theer, it's getting late; look at the starnels sattling down on the reeds!"

He pointed to the great clouds of birds curving round in the distance as he stooped and picked up the pole, ready to send the punt homewards, for the evening was closing in, and it would be dark before they reached the sh.o.r.e.

"What's that?" cried Tom suddenly, as he swept the surface of the water, and he pointed to a faint white speck about twenty yards away.

"Hey? Why, it is!" cried Dave. "Tek the hook again, Mester d.i.c.k, lad; there's a little wind left yet in th' blether, and it's coom oop!"

"Let me!" cried Tom.

"Shall I do it, lad?" said Dave.

"No, let me try this once!" cried d.i.c.k. "Or, no; you try, Tom!"

Tom s.n.a.t.c.hed at the staff of the hook, but offered it back to his companion.

"No, d.i.c.k," he said; "you missed, and you've a right to try again!"