Part 36 (2/2)

Wait till you get a good chance at a big one.”

”All right,” replied the lad, who at the first touch of the three-p.r.o.nged spear forgot all his sham resistance and settled himself in an easy position with his left arm round one of the staying ropes, standing well balanced and ready to dart the implement down into one of the great beautifully-marked mackerel-natured fish, which with an easy stroke of its thin tail, shaped like a two-day-old moon, darted along the side, played round the sloop's stem, plunged beneath the keel and appeared again, to repeat its manoeuvres so rapidly that its coming and going resembled flashes of light.

”I'll have one directly,” said Roberts, after letting two or three chances go by, ”and you, Tom, when I spear one and haul him up, you take hold of the fish just forward of his tail, where you can grip him easily.”

”Close up to his flukes, sir?” said the man, c.o.c.king one eye at Murray with a droll look which suggested the saying about instructing your grandmother. ”All right, sir; I'll take care.”

”Yes, you'd better!” said the mids.h.i.+pman, who was now all eagerness.

”I'll spear one, Frank, and then you shall take the next turn.”

”No, no; get a couple first, old chap,” replied Murray, ”or say three.

We don't want to change too often.”

”Oh, very well, just as you like. Ha!”

For a chance had offered itself; one of the bonitos had risen towards the surface and turned sharply preparatory to swimming back to pa.s.s round the stem of the _Seafowl_, and Roberts plunged down his spear; but he had not been quick enough.

”My word, that was near! Eh, Tom?” cried Murray.

”Near as a toucher,” grunted the sailor, with his eyes twinkling.

”Never mind, d.i.c.k; you'll do it next time. Straight down, old chap; but you must allow for the water's refraction.”

”Oh yes, I know,” said the lad coolly, as he gathered in the dripping line in loops once more and again grasped the light ash pole ready for another stroke.

As if perfectly satisfied of their safety, a couple more of the bonitos glided along from following the sloop, and the mids.h.i.+pman made as if to throw, but hesitated and let the first fish glide beneath his feet, but darted the spear down at the second, and struck a little too soon, the swift creature apparently seeing the spear coming and with one wave of its tail darting into safety.

”Bother!” grunted Roberts.

”Third time never fails, sir,” growled the sailor. That sailor told a great untruth, for when for the third time Roberts drove the trident he failed dismally, for in his excitement and hurry he took no care to hold the three-p.r.o.nged fork so that it should strike the fish across the back, so that one or the other tooth should be driven into the flesh, but held it so that the blades were parallel with the fish's side, beside which they glided so that the bonito pa.s.sed on unharmed.

”Oh, hang the thing!” cried the lad.

”Well, strike it first,” said Murray, laughing. ”We'll hang it then if you like.”

”Do it yourself, then,” growled Roberts angrily, hauling up the line and trident, before preparing to loosen the noose from his wrist.

”Nonsense!” cried Murray. ”Stop where you are, man. You were in such a hurry, and didn't half try.”

”No, you come and try. You are so much more handy with the grains than I am.”

He spoke sourly, but his companion's last words had softened him a little. ”Stop where you are, man!” sounded pleasant, and he hesitated.

”That's right. There, tighten the line again. I want to see you get one of those big ones, and you are not going to be beaten.”

”But I'm not skilful over it, Frank,” said Roberts.

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