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Menhardoc: A Story of Cornish Nets and Mines, a novel by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 22. Over The Bay In The Eventide... |
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_ CHAPTER TWENTY TWO. OVER THE BAY IN THE EVENTIDE, WHEN THE SUN GOES DOWN IN THE WEST It was close upon half-past five, and all Will's preparations had been made. Lines of strong cord with hooks bound up the snooding with brass wire were on their winders. There was a tub half full of tasty pilchards--damaged ones fresh out of a late boat that had come in that afternoon. There was another tub full of much more damaged pilchards-- all pounded up for ground bait. In fact nothing had been forgotten; even three oilskins had been lashed, in the stern ready for the visitors in case it should rain. "I say," said Josh, "how about the young gent? I mean him Master Dick calls Taff?" "Well, what about him?" said Will. "Won't he be scared when we gets a conger over the side." "I never thought of that," said Will musingly. "Oh! I should think not." "'Cause we shall be in a gashly pickle if we haul in a big one, and she scares the youngster out of the boat." "We must kill them at once," said Will. "Yes; it's all very well to say kill 'em at once," grumbled Josh; "but you know what a gashly thing a big conger is to kill." "Yes; he won't lie still and be killed sometimes," said Will laughing. "Ah! well, perhaps we sha'n't catch any at all." "Oh, yes! we shall, and gashly big uns too. Hadn't we better leave young Arthur behind--'tother won't be feared?" "No; it's too late now," said Will. "Here they are;" for just then the brothers came along the pier, and after Arthur had stepped in rather a dignified way down into the boat, Dick leaped in and insisted upon taking an oar. The boat was pushed off at once, and while Will and Dick were rowing Josh had to answer Arthur Temple's questions. "Are those the lines?" he said, gazing at them curiously. "Yes, sir; and we've got some oilskin aprons for you to put on, so as you sha'n't get wet." "Aprons!" cried Arthur aghast. "Yes, sir; they be good uns too." "I shall not put on an apron," was upon Arthur's lips, but he did not say it; and just then his attention was taken by a short thick truncheon, with a curious notch or fork at the handle end. "What's that for?" "Little end's disgorger," said Josh; "t'other's to knock the congers down with." "To knock the congers down!" cried Arthur aghast. "Yes, when we get hold of a big one. They're gashly strong, sir." "Why, how big are they?" cried Arthur. "Five foot, six foot, seven foot sometimes," said Josh coolly. Arthur's first thought was to say, "Here, take me back;" but he caught his brother's eye, and suppressed the words. "I--I did not know they were so big as that," he faltered, though he tried to say it with firmness and a show of resolve. "They run big, sir, off our coast, and we get some gashly fellows, often," said Josh innocently; "but you see, big as they are, men's stronger, and boys too. Why, our Will would tackle any conger as ever swam about a rock. Takes hold of disgorger like this, you know, and gives one on the head, and that quiets 'em while we get the hook out." "With--with the disgorger?" said Arthur. "That's it, Master Taff," said Josh. "My name is Arthur--Arthur Temple," said the boy haughtily. "'Course it is, sir; I ought to have known," said Josh. "It was along of Master Dick, there, calling you by t'other name. As I was saying," he continued hastily, "Will there gives them a tap with the disgorger, and then holds them under his boot, runs this here down till it touches the hook where they've swallowed it, takes a turn or two of the line round the handle and twists the hook out." "Why don't you take the hook out properly--the same as I should from a fish?" "What--with your fingers, sir?" "Of course." "A mussy me!" said Josh. "Why, don't you know how a conger can bite?" "Bite! No," said Arthur, turning pale. "Can they bite?" "Bite!" cried Josh. "Why, love your heart, young gentleman, look ye here. See this?" He held up one of the hooks at the end of the conger-line and showed the boy that not only was it very large, and tied on strong cord with a swivel or two, but it was bound from the shank some distance up the line with brass wire. "Yes, I can see it," said Arthur, "of course. Isn't it too big? A fish would not take a great awkward thing like that in its mouth." "Won't it?" said Josh laughing. "But it will if you put a pilchar' on it. That there wire as is run round the line is to keep the congers from biting it in two." "Oh! but, Josh, a conger wouldn't bite through a line like that, would he?" cried Dick as he tugged at his oar. "Just as easy, sir, as you would through a bit o' cotton after you'd sewed a button on your shirt." "Why, they must be regular nippers!" cried Dick. "Nippers, sir? Why, they go at a big dead fish if it's lying in the water, take a good mouthful, and then set their long bodies and tails to work, and spin round and round like a gimlet or a ship augur, and bore the piece right out." "Oh! I say, Josh, don't you know! He's making that story up, isn't he, Will?" "No," said Will seriously; "it is quite true. Congers have a way of spinning themselves round like that. Don't you see those swivels on the line?" "Yes," said Dick, "I see 'em." "That's because the congers spin round so. If we did not use swivels they'd twist the line all in a tangle before you could get them out." "Why, they're regular sea-serpents," said Dick. "Well, no," said Josh; "they ain't so big as sea-sarpents, because they say they're hundreds o' yards long. I never see one, but I've heerd say so; but congers will bite and no mistake. I had one ketch me by the boot once, and he bit right through the leather." All this while they were rowing farther and farther from the shore, on about as lovely an evening as it was possible to imagine, and the warm glow of the sunshine prevented Arthur's face from looking ghastly white. He felt that he must beg of them to turn back directly--that he dared not go farther; and yet there was a greater fear still to keep him silent. If he begged of them to row back they would laugh at him for a coward, and he could not bear this. "Fishing!" he thought; why, it was like going to attack some horrible pack of sea-monsters in their rocky fastnesses; and instead of being dressed in flannels, he felt that he ought to be clothed in complete armour. Why, if a conger could bite through a line, what would he think of flannel trousers? And if one got tight hold of his flesh, what would be the consequences? Arthur sat there with his mouth dry and his eyes staring as, in imagination, he saw one of the great slimy creatures twisting itself round and round, and cutting a great piece out of one of his legs; and it was all he could do to keep from shuddering with fear. And all the while there was Dick with a red face, and his hat stuck right at the back of his head, tugging away at his oar, and smiling at all Josh said. "I must try and be as brave as Dick is," Arthur said to himself; and forcing his teeth firmly together, he began to plan in his own mind what he would do if Dick caught a conger. He would have his penknife ready in his hand, and pretend to help pull in the line; and while he was doing this he would cut it and the monster would swim away. "Don't you be scared about the congers, Master Taffarthur, sir," said Josh kindly. "They be gashly ugly things to tackle sometimes, but--" "I'm not afraid," said Arthur indignantly. "Not you, sir. Why should you be?" said Josh. "We can manage them. A big one has a nasty way of his own of getting loose in the boat and wriggling himself all about under the thwarts--" Arthur involuntarily began to draw up his legs, as he felt as if one were already loose in the bottom of the boat. "But just you look ye here," continued Josh, opening the little locker in the stern of the boat. "This is how I serves the big jockeys who'd be likely to give any trouble. I just give them a cut behind the head with this little fellow, and then they lie quiet enough." As he spoke he showed Arthur a little axe with a very small head, and an edge as keen as a knife. "That's too much for congers," added Josh. "I say, how cruel to the poor things!" said Dick laughingly; but Josh took it in the most serious way. "Well, I have thought that 'bout the gashly conger, Master Dick, sir," said Josh; "but I don't know as it be. You see, they're caught, and it puts 'em out of their misery, like, at once." "But it's cruel to catch them," said Dick. Josh scratched his head. "A mussy me, Master Dick, sir! that's a thing as has puzzled me lots o' times when I've been hooking and killing fish; but then, you see, it's for victuals, and everybody's got to live." "So have the fish," laughed Dick. "So they have, sir; but you see here, I catches and kills a conger, or a pollack, or a gurnet, or a bass. Suppose I hadn't killed it--what then?" "Why, it would be swimming about in the sea as happy as could be." "Yes, Master Dick, sir; but what else would it be doing?" "Basking in the sunshine, Josh." "P'r'aps so, sir; but, a mussy me! he'd be chasing and hunting and eating hundreds of little fish every day; so you see if I catches one big one, I saves hundreds of little ones' lives." "I never thought of that," said Dick. "Josh and I have often talked about it," said Will seriously. "It seems cruel to catch and kill things; but they are always catching and killing others, and every bird and fish you see here is as cruel as can be. There goes a cormorant; he'll be swimming and diving all day long catching fish, so will the shags; and all those beautiful grey-and-white gulls you can see on the rock there, live upon the fish they catch on the surface of the water." "Then if we keep the congers from catching and killing other fishes and eating them, why, it's being very kind, and isn't cruel at all," said Dick merrily; and then he sent a cold chill down his brother's spine by saying, "Let's look sharp and catch all the big ones we can." "Now, you two take a rest," said Josh, "and I'll put her along a bit;" and changing places with the rowers, Josh handled the oars with such effect that in about half an hour they were approaching a tall mass of rock that had seemed at a distance to be part of the cliff-line, but which the visitors could now see to be quite a quarter of a mile from where the waves were beating the shore. _ |
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