Part 43 (1/2)

d.i.c.k doused the jelly-fish down into the sun-lit waters, and then they could see its wonderful nature.

In size it was as big as a skittle-ball or a flat Dutch cheese, though a better idea of its shape may be obtained by comparing it to a half-opened mushroom whose stalk had been removed, and where beautifully cut leafy transparencies took the place of the mushroom gills.

No sooner was it in the water than it began to swim, by expanding, and contracting itself with such facility that, but for the meshes of the net, it would soon have taken its wondrous hanging fringes and delicate soap-bubble hues out of sight.

”Better not touch it,” said Will, as d.i.c.k was about to place his hand beneath the curious object.

”Why not?” asked Arthur sharply.

”Because they sting,” replied Will. ”Some sting more than others.

Perhaps that does, sir.”

Arthur glanced at his father, who nodded his head.

”Yes; I believe he is right,” said Mr Temple. ”It is a curious fact in natural history. We need not test it to see if it is correct.”

”Look, look!” cried d.i.c.k; ”here's a pollack like I caught. Oh! do look at its bright colours, father; but what shall we do with the jelly-fish?”

”Let it go. We cannot save it. In an hour or two there would be nothing left but some dirty film.”

The pollack was then examined, with all its glories of gold, bronze, and orange. Then there was a skipping, twining, silvery, long-nose that could hardly be kept in the net, a fish that looked remarkably like an eel, save for its regularly shaped mackerel tail, and long beak-like nose. Sea-bream were the next--ruddy looking, large-eyed fish, not much like their fellows of the fresh water, even what were called the black bream--dark, silvery fellows, similar in shape, bearing but a small resemblance to the fish the brothers had often caught in some river or stream in a far-off home county.

d.i.c.k's eyes glistened with pleasure; and waking up more and more to the fact that the finding of fresh kinds of fish gave the boy intense delight, Will kept eagerly on the look-out.

”Here, hi! Throw that over here, Michael Pollard,” cried Will.

”It be only a gashly scad,” said the great, black-bearded fisherman; and he turned the fish good-humouredly into d.i.c.k's landing-net.

”Why, it's a kind of mackerel-looking fish,” said d.i.c.k, as he examined his fresh prize.

”Ah! mind how you touch it!” cried Will, ”it is very sharp and p.r.i.c.kly.”

”All right!” said d.i.c.k. ”Oh! I say, though, it is sharp.”

”Well, you were warned,” said Mr Temple, as d.i.c.k applied a bleeding finger to his mouth.

”Yes, but I did not know it was so sharp as that,” said d.i.c.k. ”Don't you touch it, Taff;” and this time he turned the fish over more carefully, to see that it was much the same shape as an ordinary mackerel, but broader of body and tail, and less graceful of outline, while its markings and tints would not compare with those of the ordinary mackerel, and it was provided, as d.i.c.k had found, with some very keen spines.

”What do you call this?” said Arthur, rather importantly.

”Scad, sir--horse-mackerel,” cried Will.

”Are they good to eat?” said Arthur.

Will shook his head.

”They taste strong, and they say they're not wholesome, sir,” replied Will. ”Look, they've just caught a ba.s.s.”

The beautiful silvery fish was pa.s.sed on by one of the fishermen, and the brilliant scales and sharp, perch-like fin of this favourite fish were being examined, when a violent splas.h.i.+ng and commotion told of the presence of something larger in the net.