Fitz the Filibuster Part 15

Through one end of this he pa.s.sed the point of the hook, and then brought it back to the same side by which it had entered, so that a strip about six inches long and one wide hung down from the barbed hook.

The next process was to unwind twenty or thirty yards of the line with its leaden sinker, and then drop lead and bait overboard, running out the line till the bait was left about fifty yards astern, but not to sink far, for there was wind enough to carry the schooner along at a pretty good pace, trailing the bait twirling round and round behind, and bearing no small resemblance to a small, quickly-swimming fish, the white side of the bait alternating with the dull grey of the rind, and giving it a further appearance of life and movement.

"There you are," said Poole, pa.s.sing the line into the midshipman's hands. "I will unwind some more, have fished like this before, haven't you?"

"Only a little for whiting and codlings," was the reply. "I never got hold of anything big. I suppose we may get a tidy one here?"

"Oh yes; and they are tremendously strong."

"Not so strong but what I can hold them, I dare say," said Fitz confidently.

But his confidence was not shared by his companion, who unwound the line till there was no more upon the frame, and then gave the end two or three turns about one of the belaying-pins, leaving a good many rings of loose line upon deck.

There was need for the foresight, as was soon proved. Fitz was sitting leaning right back with his eyes half-closed, thoroughly enjoying the change; the trouble of the morning was for the moment numbed, and no care a.s.sailed him. He was listening as he enjoyed the sensation that thrilled the nerves of his arm as the bait and lead sinker were drawn through the water far astern with a peculiar jigging motion, and questioning Poole about the kind of fish that they were likely to encounter as far south as they then were.

"You have been across here, then, before?" he said.

"Oh yes; four times."

"Ever seen any sharks?"

"Lots; but not out here. I saw most close in sh.o.r.e among the islands."

"What islands?"

"Oh, any of them; Saint Lucia, Nevis, Trinidad. Pretty big too, some of them."

"Ever catch one?"

"No, we never tried. Nasty brutes! I hate them."

"So does everybody, I suppose. But, I say, think we shall catch anything to-day?"

"Oh yes; but you mustn't be disappointed if we don't. Fish swarm one day, and you can see as many as you like; another time--you go all day long and you don't see one."

"I say, this isn't going to be one of those days, is it? I haven't had a bite yet. Think the bait's off?"

"Not it. That tough skin closes up round the hook, and you would almost have to cut it to get it over the barb. It makes a capital bait to stick on, but of course it isn't half so attractive as a bit of a bright silvery fish. I'll change it as soon as I can. I wish we had got one of those big silvered spoons. I think father's got two or three. I will go and ask him if you don't soon get a--"

"Oh! Poole! Here! Help! I--I can't--Oh, he's gone!" panted the middy.

For all at once his right arm received a violent jerk, and as the line was twisted round his hand he was dragged sideways, and but for Poole's ready help would have been pulled off the chair helplessly on to the deck. Fortunately for him the skipper's son was on the _qui vive_, and stopping the convalescent's progress with one hand, he made a s.n.a.t.c.h at the line with the other.

"He's too much for you," cried Poole. "Here, shake your hand clear of the line. I've got him. That's the way. Has it hurt you?"

"It seemed to cut right into the skin," panted Fitz. "He must be a monster. Oh, whatever you do, don't let him go!"

"No, I won't let him go," was the reply; "not if I can help it. He is a pretty good size. We will make a double job of it. Here, I'll haul him in a few feet, and then you can take hold in front of me, and we will haul him in together. No, he won't come yet. I shall have to let him run a little--I mean, we shall have to let him run a little. Now then, foot by foot. Let's let the line run through our hands."

This was done steadily and slowly, till another fifty yards of line had been given, the fish that had been hooked darting the while here and there, and at a tremendous rate, and displaying enormous strength for a creature of its size.

But it had to contend not only with the drag kept up by the boys, but the motion of the schooner as well, with the result that its strength soon began to fail, till at last it was drawn behind the gliding schooner almost inert.

"There," cried Poole; "now I think we might have him in. I was afraid to haul before for fear of dragging the hook out of its jaws. Look at that now!" he cried impatiently.

"What's the matter? Don't say he has gone!"

"Oh no, he's not gone. Why, he is making a fresh dash for his liberty.

But we can't lift him in by the hook, and I never thought about getting a gaff.--Here, hi!" he cried. "Come here, Chips!"

One of the sailors sidled up--a dry-looking, quaint man with a wrinkled face, who broke out into a smile as he saw what was going on.

"Fish, sir?" he said, and his hand made a movement toward his cap.

"Want me to fetch my bag of tools?"

"Yes," cried Poole. "I mean, get that long-handled gaff from down below."

"Right, sir," and the man trotted off, leaving the two lads slowly and steadily hauling in yard after yard of the line.

"Still fast on, sir?" cried the man to Fitz, as he stood what looked like a highly-educated boat-hook against the rail.

Fitz made no reply, for his face was flushed and his teeth hard set in the excitement of his task.

"Oh yes, we've got him fast enough, Chips," said Poole. "Be very careful, for he's a heavy one, and Mr Burnett here wouldn't like to lose him now."

"All right, sir," said the man, taking up the long shaft again, and lowering it down over the side. "I don't know, though, whether I shall be able to reach him from up here. It looks like being best to get down to the rudder-chains. No; it's all right. I shall manage him if you get him close up to the side."

"Steady! Steady!" cried Poole. "He's making another flurry. Let him go again. No, it's all right--all over; haul away."

By this time the great drops of perspiration were standing upon Fitz's brow, joining, and beginning to trickle down the sides of his face; but his teeth were still hard set, and intent upon the capture he kept on hauling away as hard as his weakness would allow.

"There," cried Poole, at last. "You caught him; but you had better let me have the line to myself now to get him closer in, so that Chips can make a good stroke with the gaff and pull him right aboard."

"Yes," said Fitz, with a sigh; "I suppose I must," and with his countenance beginning to contract with the disappointment he felt, he resigned the line and sat back in the chair, breathing hard, gently rubbing his aching muscles, and intently watching what was going on.

That did not take long, but it was long enough to attract the other men who were on deck, and they came round, to form a semi-circle behind the middy's chair, while Poole hauled the fish closer and closer in beneath the counter, and then stayed his hand.

"Can you do it now?" he cried.

"Not quite. I'll come round the other side," replied the handler of the gaff, who, suiting the action to the word, changed his place, leaned right over the rail, almost doubling himself up, and then uttered a warning--

"Ready?"

"Yes," was the reply.

"Now then, half-a-fathom more."

What followed was almost instantaneous. Poole made two fresh grips at the line, pulled hard, and then with an e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n fell backwards on to the deck with the hooks upon his chest.

"Gone!" groaned Fitz; but his exclamation was drowned in a roar of laughter from the men, and a peculiar flapping, splashing noise caused by the fish, in which the gaff had taken a good hold, bending itself into the shape of a half-moon as it was hauled over the side, giving the man saluted as Chips a violent blow with its tail, and then as it flopped down upon the deck slapping the planks with sounding blow after blow.