King o' the Beach Part 18

"I wonder whether there are any fish there," said Carey, and then he started in astonishment, for there was quite a little wave raised as, with a rush, a shoal of fish made for the bait.

"Got him?" cried Bostock, as there was a tug at the line.

"Yes--no--no--yes," panted Carey, and there was a heavy pull as a fish made for the open water, its actions sending its companions flying out of the water, some even leaping out and falling back with a splash.

Carey held on, but with a sudden quick action Bostock caught hold of the line behind the boy's hand.

"Oh, Bob!" cried the lad, appealingly.

"Too heavy for you alone, sir. 'Sides, you've only got one hand to work with. You go on, sir; I'm on'y easing it for you, and you know you couldn't haul him in yourself. That's the way; don't let him run. Now then, in with him, and think you're a three-handed man."

The captive made some bold dashes for liberty, but in vain, and a minute had not elapsed before it was lifted on to the raft, proving to be a fish of four or five pounds' weight, in dazzlingly beautiful armour of silver and steel-like blue, one which needed handling carefully on account of an exceedingly sharp saw-like back fin, which was stroked carefully down before Bostock extracted the hook.

"Looks as if he ought to be good to eat, sir."

"It's a beauty," cried Carey, excitedly.

"I dunno," said Bostock, stolidly, as he rebaited the hook.

"Nonsense; look at the silver and pearl and steel-blue on its sides."

"Ah, but some of these furren fish are poisonous, sir."

"I was thinking about its beauty," said Carey, impatiently.

"Was you, sir? I was thinking about the frying-pan. He'd be all we should want, but we'd better try for another in case the doctor thinks this one not good to eat."

"Oh, yes, try for some more. I wish Doctor Kingsmead were here, though, to help. I wonder where he is now."

"Ay. Wonder how he's getting on, and what he has found. There, if that isn't a tempting bait, don't know what is. Line all free?"

"Yes."

"Then off we go again," said Bostock, and once more the lead went flying in a low curve over the glistening water, to fall with a gentle splash.

There was a wave raised in the shallow directly, and in less time than before, and ere the bait could have reached the bottom, it was seized and the line ran out, to give Carey's arm a heavy jerk and elicit a cry of pain.

"Hurt you much, my lad?" cried Bostock, as he made a s.n.a.t.c.h and caught the line.

"Yes, rather," said the lad. "You're right, Bob; I'm not quite strong there yet."

"No wonder it gave you a nip, sir," cried the man, excitedly. "This is a regular ram_pay_ger. My word! look at him; he's going all over the place."

"Let the line run," cried Carey, excitedly, and quite forgetting the pain.

"Nay, he aren't a whale, sir; but from the games he's playing he might be a shark four or five foot long. I'll tire him out though. I say, sir, you ought to be glad you aren't got hold; line reg'larly cuts into my hand. Look at that now. I say, sir, we shan't want for something on the table. Strikes me there hasn't been anyone fishing here lately."

There was a grim smile on the old sailor's face, as he stood there easing the line a little, as the fish darted here and there in the most vigorous way, and would have broken free had not the sailor's arms acted like yielding springs.

The playing of that fish lasted what seemed to be five minutes, and its darts and rushes were as vigorous as ever when all of a sudden it gathered up its forces and made a rush into shallow water amongst the coral, some of which bristled above the surface. Then they had a good sight of its size and gleaming golden scales, for it leaped a good two feet out of the water, came down with a heavy splash and jerk, and the next minute Bostock was hauling in what was left of the line, fully half, with lead and hook, having been borne away.

"Oh--oh!" groaned Carey, giving utterance to that sound so full of disappointment peculiar to fishermen.

"Ay, 'tis a pity, sir," said Bostock, "such a fine fish too. Reg'lar golden-red."

"Yes; what was it?"

"Can't say, sir. I don't think," he added, with a grim smile, "that it was a red herring."

"But you should have let it run."

"Didn't want it, sir; he took the bit in his teeth, and he has run."

"I mean eased it and wearied it out."

"Yes, sir, I s'pose so; but I aren't big at fishing. Wait a bit, and you'll have your turn. How's your shoulder?"

"Oh, that does not hurt now, but I do feel rather queer."

"No wonder," said the old sailor, looking at the boy searchingly as he ringed up the remainder of the fishing-line. "Let's get ash.o.r.e."

"Oh no. Try for another fish."

"Can't, sir; he's taken away my lead sinker, and I don't think we could ketch one on the surface; besides, my line's too short."

There was nothing to say to this, so the raft was unmoored again and poled back to its old place with alacrity, made fast, the fish rolled up in some wet seaweed, and then Bostock turned with a grim smile to his young companion.

"Feel no better, sir," he said.

"No, Bob; if anything, worse."

"And it aren't your shoulder?"

"No," sighed Carey; "I feel faint and sinking. I suppose it was from the shock of the pain."

"I don't, sir," said the old fellow, gruffly. "I know what's the matter with you."

"What is it, then?" said Carey, rather anxiously.

"You've got the eight bells complaint, sir."

"What do you mean?" said Carey, suspiciously.

"Dinner-time, sir; that's what's the matter with you."

"Absurd. It can't be dinner-time yet."

"Can't it, sir? Doctor's been gone hours. Just you look up at the sun."