Chapter 4. Visiting The Fish-Traps

________________________________________________
_ CHAPTER FOUR. VISITING THE FISH-TRAPS

Fred's first act the next morning on waking, which he did before six, was to jump out of bed and ran to the window. It was dull, certainly, and a great heavy mist was rising from the soaked earth; but the ram had ceased, and there were hopes that it might turn out a fine day. Having satisfied himself upon this point, he went on tiptoe to his cousins' room, where the lads were in their beds, one on each side of the window, fast asleep, and looking as though they would not wake up for another hour.

Fred was so proud of his achievement in being up first that he stood for a moment considering what he should do, when, pulling a piece of string from his pocket, he wetted it in the jug, and, twisting up one end, proceeded to tickle Harry's nose with the soft point. Harry gave a vicious rub at the irritated organ, and then another, and another, but without opening his eyes. Fred then drew the string gently over eyes, cheeks, and forehead, making the tormented boy twist and turn in his bed, muttering something about "bothering flies." The next place of attack was the ear, which was directly protected by the insertion of one of Harry's fingers; so that Fred was obliged to return to the nose again, all the time hardly driven to keep from laughing aloud; and this time he titillated the poor fellow so unmercifully that he burst out with a violent sneeze, and sitting up in bed was face to face with his tormentor.

"Er-tchishew, er-tchishew!" said Harry, bouncing out of bed with his pillow in his hand. "Phil! Phil!" he shouted, "here's a trespasser."

Philip jumped up and followed his brother's example, and between the two poor Fred got so bolstered, or rather pillowed, that he was fain to cry out for mercy, just as a sharp rapping at the wall told the boys that they had disturbed the Squire.

Directly after breakfast the lads started to go to the mill, which was the property of Mr Inglis, but held by one of his tenants, Mr Pollard.

"Oh! he has got such a rum fellow there for a man," said Harry; "we call him Dusty Bob; but he's such a good chap, and will tell you all sorts of tales about catching fish in mills; for he's always lived in watermills ever since he was a boy. But his proper name's Peagrim."

The anxiety to see the "rum fellow"--Dusty Bob--made the boys hurry on, but there were again so many attractions by the wayside that stoppages were very frequent. The sandy roads had soaked up all the rain, but on every leaf and spray heavy dew-drops were hanging and glittering in the morning sun; while the birds were singing as though to make up for lost time. The road wound, along by the old mossy palings which bounded Mr Inglis's property, and the grove on the other side seemed to be the special resort of all the sweetest warblers in that part of the country. On every sunny bit of paling the flies were buzzing and humming; beetles and little sun-shiners were crawling about; while great variegated spiders were mending their nets, ready for the trade they hoped to do in flies on that bright July day.

Such a scent came up from the freshened earth; and bright and golden green looked every leaf, washed clear of the dust that had rested upon it a day or two before; while the hedge-side flowers, although nodding with the watery weight they bore, had turned their opening petals to the sun, and seemed to laugh out their welcome to his warm bright beams.

"There goes a peacock-eye," said Philip, dashing after a lovely butterfly, which kept on gently just before him for a time, and then settled nicely in reach upon a robin-run-rake by the hedge-side. Philip stole cautiously forward, cap in hand, and then made a dab down to secure the brightly-painted prize; but, with one or two flaps from those gorgeous wings, it was out of reach, over the palings, and away across the buttercup-gilded meadow on the other side.

Directly after, Harry was off after a great sulphur-coloured butterfly, which led him a long chase down the lane--Fred joining in at first, but afterwards taking up a chase on his own account after a large blue dragon fly. The butterflies would not be caught that morning, but the chase had one good effect, for it led the lads down to the banks of the little river, now very full and muddy in its waters, which were rushing along with great haste, and evidently in a hurry to get down to the mill, and go tumbling and foaming over the muddy sluice at the head of the waste-water. The tops of the reeds were nearly covered, and in some places the water was out over the road; while down where the foot-plank crossed the wide ditch that brought down the waters from Beaker Hill to empty into the river, the water had risen so that it touched the board, and supplied capital amusement to Harry, who danced in the middle of it, sending the water flashing and splashing about in all directions, and wetting everything around but himself.

At last he grew tired, and Philip crossed too, but Fred hardly dared venture, for the board was muddy and slippery, and at last Harry had to come back and half lead him over; but it was a new feat to him. And now they reached the mill, which stood upon a little island right in the river--an island that stretched up the stream right to a point, with a stout post driven in to break the force of the river, which now seemed quite angry at being divided, and rushed round on both sides, foaming and roaring as though it was determined to carry island, mill, and everything else away.

"Come along, Fred," said Harry; but Fred felt nervous; it was all new to him, and he could hardly summon up courage to cross the frail bridge over the foaming waters that rushed down the sluice, and formed a cataract on the other side--the waters plunging down in a muddy torrent, and then boiling up in the maddest way. But he grasped his cousin's hand tightly, and, crossing the bridge, walked round the mill to the other side. And now he could feel the whole place tremble and vibrate as the water rushed under the dark arches to the mill wheels, which were going swiftly round; while inside the tall wooden building, pair after pair of stones were spinning round and round, turning the hard, firm corn into white nutritious flour.

Philip led the way, and they entered the mill, where the warning bells were ringing to give notice that the corn was flowing down rightly; and the mill-hoppers kept on "ruttle, ruttle;" the water hissed, seethed, and rushed under their feet; the millstones rumbled round and round; and there on the top of the sacks, with which the place was half filled, sat the two great white cats belonging to the miller, fast asleep; while in a corner, upon a heap of empty corn bags, sat Dusty Bob himself, nodding and nodding as though he meant to shake his head off.

"Hallo, Bob, hoy!" shouted Harry in a voice which was hardly heard above the din in the mill.

"Hullo!" said Bob, gruffly, jumping up. "Oh, it's you, young masters, is it? Well, I expect I've been asleep. I was up half the night, for we were so busy, and had so much water."

"Here's our cousin from London; and Papa said we might bring him to see the fish-traps; and he said you were to have that for showing us," said Philip, pulling out a shilling from his pocket; which action made Bob's eyes twinkle, and removed all sleepiness.

"Stop a minute, young genelmen," said he, going to a cupboard in a corner, and taking out a black teapot--at least what should have been black, but it was all over flour. "There," he said, "that's what I always keeps there to drink when too much dust gets down my throat." Saying which Bob took a long drink of cold tea out of the spout, and then generously offered it to all the visitors, who declared that it was such a little time since they had had breakfast that they would rather not.

"More left for me then," said Bob; "and now for the fish-traps. I opened them last night, but I forgot to look this morning; so you're just right, my lads--just right. Shouldn't wonder if there was a whale down in the big trap after all this water; should you, Master Harry, eh?"

"None of your gammon, Bob. Think I don't know better than that? Why don't you come and look at the traps?"

"'Cos I ain't in such a hurry as you are," replied Bob. "You'd like me to run, wouldn't you, eh?"

"Do come, Bob," said Philip, putting in his appeal to the rough and dusty object before him--an appeal not without its effect, for Bob gave a very dusty smile; and then, reaching down a bunch of keys from a nail in the wall, proceeded with one of them to open a door which led down a dark flight of damp stairs to the under regions of the mill, where the two great toothed wheels were swiftly revolving--dripping with water, and looking horribly wet, slimy, and muddy; while between them, and on each side, were what Harry had called the fish-traps: large contrivances of strong laths about half an inch apart, forming very wide and deep cages, down into which, in a torrent, the water rushed and passed through--of course leaving therein everything in the shape of fish that had been brought down by the swiftly speeding current.

At the first sight of the gloomy cellar-like place and the sound of the rushing stream, mingled with the hollow cavernous plashing noise of the water running from the wheels as they rose from out the deep well-like chasms where they did their duty, Fred shrunk back and hardly liked to descend; but, seeing how coolly and confidently his cousins went down, he summoned up courage and followed, while Bob proceeded to inspect trap number one.

"Well! that's a pretty go," said Bob; "shan't catch many fish that a way, anyhow."

"Why, what's the matter?" said Harry, looking at the great wooden fish cage.

"Matter!" said Bob; "why, some one's left the door open."

"I know who it was," said Harry, laughing, as he inspected the opening at the bottom of the trap, through which everything that had entered must have escaped. "I know who it was," said Harry, again.

"Who?" said Philip, innocently.

"Who? why, old Bob!"

"You _are_ right," said Bob, grinning. "I did leave it open, because some one came in the mill, and then I had to go. Never mind, I couldn't help forgetting to come down again, could I?"

On going to the next trap they found that the force of the water had broken two of the bottom laths away, leaving room for any sized fish to get out; but for all that there was a great black-backed slimy-looking monster of an eel, nearly a yard long, gently gliding about over one side of the cage, close to the hole.

"Now, Bob," said Harry, "here he is, such a stomper; get him out quick."

But Bob did not get him out quick, for upon the first touch of the barred door, the eel gave a glide, went through the broken bottom of the trap, and was gone.

"Oh--oh--oh!" chorused the boys, "what a pity!"

"Why didn't you be quicker, Bob?" said Harry, "I know I could have caught him. How jolly tiresome! Do be careful next time."

"Why, wasn't I careful?" said Bob. "There ain't a slipperier thing anywheres, than one of them big eels. There ain't no holding of them at all when there are no holes in the bottom of the traps; and of course I couldn't stop that un without any salt to put on his tail."

"Don't talk such stuff," said Philip; "we are not children, and you don't think we believe all that rubbish about salt on tails, do you?"

Bob indulged in a long low chuckle, and then led the way to the last trap under the mill, though there was one at the head of the waste-water outside. It was very dark in the corner where they now went, but in spite of the darkness the boys could see the silvery gleam of something moving behind the bars, while Bob suddenly grinned out--

"Now then, young gents, here they are; but stop while I fetches a pail."

Bob went upon his errand, and slowly ascended the steps that led into the mill, while the boys crept as close as possible to the trap, through which the water was rushing swiftly. It was very evident that there were several good-sized fish in; but while they looked, something seemed to dart down from above, there was a great splashing and flapping about, and then it grew pretty evident that a new-comer had joined the prisoners--who had all commenced bobbing and flopping about, as though to remonstrate against his arrival.

And now came Bob with a great pail, which he held under the sliding door of the trap, telling Harry to pull it open. He did so, and into it glided the pailful of different kinds of fish, while one monster of an eel got half his body over the side and slipped out on to the damp floor, where he began to wriggle and twist, evidently meaning to get down one of the wheel channels. But Bob had seen one fine fellow slip away that morning, and did not mean to lose this one; for he knew it would be worth shillings to him, either to sell, or to send by his young visitors up to Squire Inglis's; so at it he dashed, nearly upsetting the pail as he hastily banged it down. And now began a regular battle, the eel making for the water, and the eel-catcher keeping him away. It was one of those monsters that are rarely caught by hook and line, but which lie in the deep muddy holes of rivers, out of which places they mostly sally when there is a flood.

Strong! it was as strong, Bob said, as a horse, and writhed and twisted about so that he could not retain his grasp upon its slippery shiny skin.

Twice he got it up in a corner, tight up against the brick wall, and away it went again close to the water's edge and was nearly lost, but for a lucky kick from Harry which saved it. No one else cared about touching the monster, and at last it appeared as though the prize would escape after all, for Bob was trying to retain it with one hand only-- the other appearing to be disabled in some way or another; but it was not so, for Bob meant mischief, and his hand reappeared with his great bread and cheese knife, which he opened with his teeth, and then, with one great gash, nearly severed the unfortunate eel's head from his snaky body.

"There!" said Bob, triumphantly; "that are the biggest eel I ever caught in this here water. Why, he weighs six pound, I know he do. Shut the door of that ere trap again, Master Harry, and there'll be some more to-night, I know."

Saying this, Bob made a commotion in the pail by laying his great prize on the top of the other captives, and then carried them all carefully up into the mill, where the visitors proceeded to gloat over the spoil.

Two or three sacks were laid upon the mill floor, and then Bob emptied the pail, and there they were, flapping, leaping, and writhing about; such a collection of fish as would have made any angler glow and feel proud to carry home. First there was the great eel--such a monster, with body as thick as Bob's wrist: then there was a beautiful trout about two pounds' weight; a little jack about half the size; about two dozen of fine roach; and about thirty eels of all sizes--one so small, that the wonder was that he had not got through the bars; and the largest so big, that it would have almost passed for the big one's brother; while all of them seemed to consider that it was their duty to get off the sacks as soon as possible, and therefore wriggled and twisted towards the edges, giving the boys plenty of occupation to turn them back, which Fred did with a piece of stick, wisely keeping the uncouth creatures at a distance.

"Now, what's to be done with them all?" said Bob.

"I should like to have the little jack to put in our pond," said Harry.

"Why, he'd kill all the roach," said Philip.

"So he would," said his brother; "but then he's a nicer-looking fellow than any there."

"Well, I'll tell you what," said Bob, "we'll put the six biggest eels and the trout into a basket, and you shall take 'em home--young jack and all; and them tothers I shall send up into the village to sell."

This was considered to be a capital arrangement; and soon after, off the boys started with their basket tied tightly down to keep the eels from getting out during the journey. Fred declined to help carry on account of the eels, so Harry and Philip took a handle each and swung it between them--a nice easy way for them, but very uncomfortable for the poor eels, for every now and then Master Harry would swing so hard that the basket would make a complete revolution, twist Philip's wrist, and, making him leave go, the basket would come down bump upon the gravel path. On they went, however, till they came to the little plank bridge, over which Fred tripped lightly; and stood on the other side, laughing, out of the reach of any splashing that Harry might feel disposed to favour him with.

The water had sunk a few inches lower during their visit to the mill; and when Harry and Philip stood in the middle of the plank, which could not of course be passed without having a splash, Harry began to spring up and down, and the board being tolerably elastic, he and his brother had a pretty good ride; but although there was double weight now upon it, the plank would not touch the water.

"Try again, Phil," said Harry. And up and down went the brothers for a minute, but still clear of the water.

"Come along, now," said Philip, "it's no use."

"One more try, and a good one," said Harry; and then they began again. "Now," he continued, "both together. One: that was a good one. Two: better still. Three: and a--"

"Snap."

Just as they gave the last spring, there was a sharp crack from the plank; a shriek from all the boys simultaneously; and Harry and Philip were struggling in the deep water, for the plank bridge had divided in two just in the centre.

Fred ran to the edge, and, by kneeling down, managed to catch Philip's hand, which was the only portion of him visible, as he was being swept out of the broad ditch, which was running swiftly, into the river, for fear and excitement had robbed him of his swimming powers; while Harry, who could swim well, had given two or three strokes, and then, catching the long grass, climbed out upon the opposite side. The next thing they all did was to stand and stare at each other in blank amazement, from which Harry was the first to recover, for he jumped about, shook himself like a Newfoundland dog, and then said bluntly:--

"Don't you cry, Phil, we're quite wet enough. Never mind; Papa won't be very cross if we go and tell him directly. I'm coming across now," and in spite of the protestations of Philip and Fred, he got sloth fashion-- hanging hands and legs--upon the pole that had served as a hand rail to the broken plank, and which maintained its own bearings, and in spite of its bending beneath his weight, he shuffled across, and stood wet and dripping beside his companions.

"Come on," said Harry, shaking himself again, and addressing the others, who were still standing with long faces by the broken bridge: "let's run; we shall soon be home, and nobody will meet us in Park Lane."

"But where's the basket?" exclaimed Fred.

"Oh!" cried Harry, aghast.

"Why, it's gone," said Fred, "and the fish can't get out, though they are in the water."

Gone it was; there was not even a handle of the basket to be seen above the water, though they looked long and anxiously up and down the river, and everywhere that seemed impossible for it to have got to. But it was gone, and no doubt the poor eels were drinking in their natural element and twisting about in their little wicker prison; turning their companions, the decapitated eel and the dead trout, over and over, and up and down, in their efforts to escape.

At last the trio started off, but with anything but light hearts, for their appearance was far from being as neat as when they set off in the morning. Fred was all over flour, through kneeling in the mill and lolling up against the sacks; while his cousins looked as wet, muddy, and pitiable, as two unfortunate, half-drowned young monkeys could look. The butterflies flitted before them and danced up and down in the sunny air, displaying their gorgeous wings; the yellowhammer flew out from amongst the nettles, and betrayed the place where his sober-hued little mate was sitting upon her grassy nest; a stoat ran across the road with a bird in his mouth, and disappeared in the bank unchased; the corncrake sang his harsh song in the park, seemingly close beneath the pales; and two squirrels ran along the road right in front of them, and then sat down with their little bushy tails cocked up, watching the boys ever so long before they darted up the beech-tree bole, and hid behind the great branches. But it was of no use; there was no tempting the boys out of their solid sombre moodiness; and on they tramped, fishless and disconsolate, for their young spirits were not damped, but literally drenched; and then, too, they had lost their wicker idol, full of captives--captives which, like those of the ancient Britons, were to have been roasted; but now, alas! were in danger of being drowned; if, as old anglers tell us, fish can be drowned.

The day was brighter than ever, but for them it had lost its brightness; and sadly and slowly they crossed the stile, crept across the home-field, round to the stable-yard, and in by the back door; and, no one seeing them, hurried up to their bedrooms, so that Harry and Philip were able to make a decent appearance at dinner-time, without frightening Mr and Mrs Inglis by their half-drowned aspect.

It took a long time before it came to the surface, and a great amount of determination before Harry could speak out respecting the morning's mishap; for he, though the younger, was always the chief speaker; but at last out it came with a rush, while Papa was helping the pudding, making him give such a start that he put the wedge-shaped piece of rhubarb pudding right upon the snowy white tablecloth instead of Fred's plate.

"I say, Papa, Philip and I tumbled into Whaley Dyke, coming home from the mill to-day; and it was so full that Phil would have been drowned, for he was too much afraid to swim, only Fred pulled him out."

And then, as the ice was broken, Harry told the whole tale, not omitting the loss of the basket; and, though both Papa and Mamma looked serious as they thought of the danger their boys had run, yet, as Harry had prophesied, Papa was not very cross about it; and, after a little serious admonition, shook hands with them all round, and said how proud he was to think he could always trust his boys to tell the truth, for now he could always have confidence in their word, and feel that he could depend upon them in everything.

"But, papa," said Harry at last, breaking out into a regular whimper, "they were _such_ eels!"

"And _such_ a trout!" said Philip. "And _such_ a jack!" said Fred. "And they've all gone back to the river again," said Harry; "and I did want the jack for the little pond, and old Bob will be sure to come up to-night to see if you will give him something for the eels, and we didn't get them."

"Never mind, boys," said Mr Inglis; "I dare say we can make it all right with Bob, the miller; and no doubt there are as fine eels in the river as ever came out of it."

As for Mrs Inglis, she seemed to take a more loving fancy to Fred than she had before accorded to her sister's child; for had he not saved her boy's life?

Sure enough, Bob came down to the house that very evening, grinning and smirking, and looking as pleasant as if he felt sure that he was going to have some of the squire's home-brewed ale, and half-a-crown as well. But Bob grinned a little more than he would have done in general upon such an occasion; and when he caught sight of the boys he kept grinning more than ever, and beckoning them in his uncouth way to come to him; but Harry and Philip did not feel much disposed to go to Bob, for there was all the dissatisfaction of the loss of the fish, and they did not like Bob being paid for what they did not profit by. But at last Bob's demonstrations were so violent that the three boys went into the kitchen together, and then and there the dusty old rascal drew from behind him, all the while grinning and showing his teeth more than ever, the very basket they had lost, tied-up as though it had never been opened, and with all the fish inside.

Fred looked upon Bob as though he was a mighty conjurer.

"Why, they came down the stream to the mill," said Harry, beaming with his discovery. "So they did, Master Harry; you're right."

"And you found them up against the grating?"

"So I did, Master Harry; I did find 'em there."

"And then you brought them here?"

"So I did, Master Harry; you're right, I did."

"Oh! hooray!" shouted Harry. "Hooray!" shouted Phil.

"Hurray!" said Fred, hardly knowing why, but cheering because the others did. And then out came the Squire, and out came Mrs Inglis, and out came the eels, and out came the praises, and out came Bob's half-crown; and the next day when those fish were cooked, the Squire declared that this was the best trout he had ever tasted; and as to the eels, why they were the richest, nicest, and best eels that were ever eaten, and no one enjoyed them better than the boys who had had so much difficulty in gaining them for a prize. _

Read next: Chapter 5. Buying A New Water-Bottle

Read previous: Chapter 3. Indoor Amusements

Table of content of Hollowdell Grange: Holiday Hours in a Country Home


GO TO TOP OF SCREEN

Post your review
Your review will be placed after the table of content of this book