Part 22 (1/2)

”Come away,” I said nervously; ”let's look for the nets.”

”Ha, ha, ha!” laughed Bob, who had quite recovered his spirits and took up his usual manner; ”look at old Sep! He's frightened, and thinks it's his turn to be stuck in the rock.”

”Never mind; let's look for the nets,” said Bigley, who seemed to be more in sympathy with me, and we set to work, finding one before long, buried all but a sc.r.a.p of the net in the beach sand and s.h.i.+ngle.

This encouraged us, and we hunted with more vigour, finding another wedged in between some blocks of rock, and soon after we discovered something that we had certainly expected would have been swept out to sea, namely, one of the baskets.

It was the one which contained the crab, and it had been driven into a rock pool surrounded by ma.s.ses of stone, which had held it as the tide retired.

To our great satisfaction the crab was still inside alive and uninjured; but we found no more relics of our expedition. The other baskets were gone with the eel and prawns, and the third net was wanting. I must except, though, one of Bigley's shoes, which had been cast up four hundred yards from the rock pool, and lay at high-water mark in a heap of sea-weed, battered wreck-wood and sh.e.l.ls.

I am not going to enumerate all our adventures during those holidays; but I must refer to one or two more before pa.s.sing on for a time to the more serious matters in connection with the silver mine in the Gap, where, while we were enjoying ourselves on the sh.o.r.e or up one of the narrow glens baling out holes to catch the trout, business matters were progressing fast. Our mishap was soon forgotten, and we determined to have another prawning trip, for, as Bob Chowne said, there was no risk over it, if we didn't go and stick ourselves between two stones ready for the tide to come in and drown us. ”But it was an accident,” said Bigley gravely. ”Oh, no, it wasn't,” cried Bob; ”an accident's where you can't help it--where a boat upsets, or a horse falls down, or a wheel falls off, or you slip over the edge of the cliff.”

”Well, that was an accident too,” I said; ”wasn't he nearly drowned?”

”No,” cried Bob, ”not nearly; and how could it be an accident when he crept into the hole, and turned round and stuck fast when he tried to get out?”

It was of no use to argue with Bob that morning, as we three ran down to the sh.o.r.e after finding that old Uggleston's lugger was at sea, crus.h.i.+ng the weed under our feet, and enjoying the curious salt smell that ascended to our nostrils. We had another net, and a big basket, borrowed of our Sam. It was not so handy as our old ones, for two of us had to carry it; but as I said it would hold plenty, and we could lay a bit of old net over the prawns to keep them from flicking themselves out.

”I don't believe we shall catch any to-day,” said Bob, who was in one of his hedgehog fits, as Bigley used to call them. But he was wrong, for after walking about a mile along the sh.o.r.e, so as to go right away from the cottages, the first pool we stopped at gave us three fine fat fellows.

In another we were more successful, and as we roamed: farther and farther away the better became our sport.

This time we went on past the Gap, and under the tremendous cliffs that kept the sun from s.h.i.+ning down upon the sh.o.r.e in winter. Then on and on with our numbers always increasing, for we pa.s.sed very few pools that did not contain one prawn at least.

”I tell you what,” said Bob, as we stopped to rest, net in hand; ”we'll go to old Big's this afternoon, and get Mother Bonnet to boil the prawns, and then have a thorough good feast. You'll find us some bread and b.u.t.ter, won't you, Big?”

”Of course,” he replied; ”but we haven't got them home yet.”

”No,” said Bob, ”we haven't got them home; but you're not going to get stuck in a hole this time, are you?”

Bigley shook his head, and the remarks were forgotten, as we discovered, just washed in by the tide, a good-sized cuttlefish, that was quite dead, however, having been killed I suppose by being bruised against the rocks, so we were not favoured with a shower of ink.

A little farther on we came to a bare smooth patch of dark sand, over which the sea ran gently, sweeping before it a rim of foam which sparkled and displayed iridescent colours like a soap-bubble. Here we found our first jelly-fish, a beautifully clear disc of transparency about the size of a penny bun, and from which, when we plunged it in the first rock pool, hung down quite a lovely fringe of the most delicate hues.

Perhaps it was too nearly dead from being washed ash.o.r.e, for it did not sting, as some of these creatures do slightly, when encountered while bathing.

We thought the jelly-fish curious, but it was not good to eat, so it was left in the little rock pool with a few tiny shrimps, to get well or die, and we went on kicking over the little sh.e.l.ls, getting our feet wet, and finding more prawn-haunted pools, as we made for one big rock which lay close to the water's edge, a quarter of a mile farther on, where it stood up in the midst of a clump of smaller ones, the beach around being tolerably level for some distance.

”That's where old Binnacle always goes when he wants to find a lobster,”

said Bigley; ”and I shouldn't wonder if we get one, for he hasn't been there lately.”

”How do you know?” I said.

”Because he hasn't sold one, nor given us one, nor had one himself.”

”There, hark at him!” cried Bob. ”How can you tell?”

”Easy enough.”