Chapter 8

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_ CHAPTER EIGHT.

I had so many things to take up my attention that I forgot all about hearing Jarette and Walters talking together. Perhaps it came to mind once or twice afterwards, but it made no impression then, however much I may have thought about it afterwards. For then I was trying to learn my duties, studying up a little navigation, helping Mr Preddle with his fish that were to stock the New Zealand rivers with trout, and attending to Mr Denning. I suppose it was attending upon him, but to me it was all one jolly time of amusement, during which the poor fellow seemed to forget all about his bad health, and became as interested as a boy with our various bits of sport.

Now in a fast steamer there is not much done, for I suppose that quick rush of the vessel, as it ploughs its way through the sea, startles the fish away to right and left, and then when they might be swimming quietly after the first rush, the tremendous beating up of the water by the whirling screw sends them off again, and makes the water so foamy that they cannot see a bait.

But with a sailing vessel it is different. When there is not much wind, of course she glides along gently, leaving a wake of foam, but the water is not so disturbed; and soon after the weather had settled down, and was day by day growing warmer, so that the awning was rigged up over the poop, and our fishing began.

"Oh yes," Captain Berriman said, "fish away, sir, and the more fresh fish you catch for us, the better the passengers and crew will like it."

I was standing by one morning when this was said, and Miss Denning glanced at me and smiled as if she knew what was coming.

"You will let young Dale help me?" said Mr Denning. "Want him?"

"Oh yes."

"Take him, then. He isn't much use," said the captain, laughingly. "I often wonder why the owners have boys on board. Better have young Walters, he's more of a sailor than this fellow."

"Oh no," said Mr Denning, "I should like Dale."

"All right," said the captain. "Don't tumble overboard, Dale."

"I'll try not, sir," I said, "but I can swim."

"So much the better, my lad, but it takes a long time to lower a boat down, and a man overboard gets left a long way behind when a ship is in full sail."

He walked away, and looking as eager as I did, Mr Denning began about a fishing-line, while his sister looked bright and happy to see her brother so much interested in the plans he had in view.

"I suppose there are plenty of fishing-lines on board," he said. "Let's get right back beyond the man at the wheel, and fish from there."

"I'll go and see about the lines," I said; and I went forward to where the boatswain was looking after some men who were bending on a new sail.

"Lines? Fishin'-lines, my lad?--no, I don't know of any."

Directly after I came upon Walters. "I say, do you know anything about any fishing-lines?" I said.

"Of course I do," he replied in a contemptuous tone; "who doesn't?"

"But where do they keep them--with the stores?"

"Who's going fishing?" said Walters. "Mr Denning."

"Oh! I'll come and help him; I like fishing," he said.

I looked at him curiously, as I thought of what had been said, and then asked him again.

"I don't know," he cried, "I don't carry fishing-lines in my pockets. Ask old fat Preddle, he's a regular fisherman. But you won't catch any."

I did not think Mr Preddle was likely to have lines, so I did not ask him, but thought I would go and ask every man I met, when I caught sight of Bob Hampton, and went to him.

"Fishin'-lines, my lad? No, I don't think there's any aboard."

"Yes, there are," growled Barney; "I see Frenchy Jarette rigging some up t'other day, as if he meant to have a try."

I felt as if I did not like to ask a favour of the Frenchman, for somehow I did not like him; but feeling that Mr Denning would be disappointed if none were found, I asked where the man was, and found that he was down in the forecastle asleep, for he had been in one of the night watches.

It was so dark there, that for a few moments I could not make out which of the sleeping men lying there was the one I sought. They were all breathing heavily, and at first going down out of the bright sunshine the faces all looked alike; but after getting a little more accustomed to the gloom, I saw a hand just where the faint rays came down through a little sky-light, and on one of the fingers there was a silver ring. Thinking that the wearer might possibly be the Frenchman, I went farther and looked a little more closely, and saw that I was right, for though I could not have been sure that the ring on the hand proved this to be the man I sought, one that I could just make out in the ear satisfied me, and stooping lower still I laid my hand upon his shoulder.

The touch had no effect, and I took hold and shook him.

"Jarette--Jarette!" I said.

He sprang partly up with a faint cry, and to my horror, gripped me by the throat.

"Curse you, I'll--Ah, it's you, cher ami," he said, beginning fiercely, and changing his tone to a whisper. "No, no, not yet," he continued, "it isn't ripe. Wait, cher ami, wait a little."

"Jarette," I said wonderingly, for the man puzzled me--I had no key to his meaning then--"wake up. I'm sorry I roused you, but we want a fishing-line, and Bob Hampton says you have some."

"What--to fish! No, you wish to speak. Hist! I--ah, I see now," he cried quickly. "It is dark below. I see it is you, Mr Dale. Fishing-lines? Yes, I get you some."

"Why, you thought I was Mr Walters," I said, laughing.

"I?--my faith, no, sir. I was asleep and dreaming. Yes," he continued, scrambling out and going to a canvas bag, out of which he drew a large square wooden winder.

"There; it is a very long line and nearly new. I have not used it once, sir. Mister the captain objects to the men having these delassements, these untirings, when you are weary."

"Oh, thank you, Jarette," I cried eagerly.

"And here are these hooks, if the one at the end breaks."

"Yes."

"And the good fortune to you. Good luck you say it."

I went back on deck with my prize, and called at the galley, thinking no more of the Frenchman's mistake.

There the cook readily furnished me with a sharp knife and some tough rind pieces of pork and bacon liberally furnished on one side with fat.

"Cut 'em in long baits, sir," he said, "and the fish are sure to come at them."

"But they will taste too salt," I said.

He laughed.

"How can a fish know whether the bait is salt when it takes it in salt water?"

I had not thought of that, and I returned aft, passing Mr Frewen and Mr Preddle, both of whom looked disturbed, and then I reached the spot where I had left Mr Denning and his sister. He was looking angry, and Miss Denning had tears in her eyes as she quickly turned away.

"I've got a line and baits," I said, speaking as if I had not noticed that anything was wrong, though I felt sure that the doctor and Mr Preddle had been there in my absence.

"You can take them back," said Mr Denning, shortly, "I shall not fish to-day."

Miss Denning turned round quickly.

"John dear!" she whispered, and she gave him a piteous look.

He frowned and turned to me, when seeing, I suppose, my disappointment, he smoothed his face and then smiled.

"Oh, very well," he said, "I was going to my cabin, but we will have a try."

I saw Miss Denning lay her hand upon his arm, but took no notice, for I knelt down on the deck directly, cut a bait ready--a long strip of the bacon rind--stuck the point of the large sharp hook through one end as if I were going to fish for mackerel at home, and then after unwinding some of the line, to which a heavy leaden sinker was attached, I was about to throw the bait over the stern.

"But that piece of lead will be too heavy," cried Mr Denning, now full of interest in the fishing. "It will make the line hang straight down, and I keep seeing the fish play near the top."

I shook my head.

"It will not sink six feet," I said, "because we shall drag it along so fast. If we were going faster I should require a heavier lead."

"Ah, well, I suppose you know best," he said, smiling. "Go on."

He gave an uneasy glance back along the deck to see if any one else were near but the man at the wheel, who had his back to us, and I let about fifty yards of the stout line run out before I checked it and placed it in Mr Denning's hands as he stood leaning against the bulwarks.

"Shall I give a twist round one of the belaying-pins?" I said.

"What for?" he cried sharply. "Do you think I am too weak to hold it?"

"Oh no," I said quickly, "but we may hook a big fish, and the line would cut your hand."

He smiled as if he doubted me, and to guard against his letting go, I unwound the whole of the remaining line and laid it out in rings before fastening the winder tightly beneath the bulwark, so that even if the line were all run out the fish would be checked and caught.

Just then Walters came sauntering up, and I could not help thinking that from his size and our uniform being the same, how easily we might be taken one for the other in the gloom of the forecastle.

Mr Denning turned and looked at him for a moment, and then back to watch his line without a word, while Miss Denning bowed slightly.

"They don't like Walters," I said to myself.

"Had any bites?" he said with a sniggering laugh.

"No," replied Mr Denning, coldly; "I have only just begun."

There was silence for a few minutes, Walters' coming having seemed to damp our proceedings.

"Here, I know what's the matter," he said suddenly, taking a couple of steps close up to Mr Denning. "Your bait isn't right."

"Mind!" I cried. "You're treading on the line."

"Well, it won't hurt it," said Walters, roughly, and he kicked some of the rings up with one of his feet. Then to Mr Denning--"It isn't as if I'd got on nailed boots. Here, let me pull in your bait and pat a proper one on. I've caught lots of fish. He doesn't know anything about it."

"Thank you," said Mr Denning, coldly, "when I require your help, I will ask for it. Ah!"

He uttered a sharp ejaculation, as there came a sudden fierce tug at the line which dragged his hands right out to the full length of his arms and brought his chest heavily against his side.

"Hooray! you've got him," cried Walters, "and a big one too. Hold fast!"

It was as if Mr Denning was playing at the old forfeit game of the Rules of Contrary, for he let go. The line rushed out, and the next moment the rings in which Walters had stepped tightened round his legs just as he was changing his position, and with so heavy a drag that the lad lost his balance and came down heavily upon the deck, which his head struck with a sharp rap.

"That was your doing!" he shouted, as I rushed at him where he was struggling to free himself, for the line kept on tightening round him from the furious jerks given by the fish which had seized the bait.

But I was not thinking of freeing him, only of getting hold of the line, and as he struck at me quickly, I thrust him back so sharply that his head struck the deck again.

By that time I had hold of the line, and, thinking no more of Walters, I tried to hold the prize, but was fain to call excitedly upon Mr Denning to help me.

He seized the line too, and for the next five minutes the fish was tearing about here and there in the water far below where we stood, and jerking our arms and shoulders till they ached. Now it would go off at right angles, now directly in the opposite direction.

Then slacking the line for a few moments it shot right away aft, jerking the line so heavily that it was dragged through our hands. The next moment we saw what looked like a huge bar of blue and silver shoot right out of the water and come down with a heavy splash.

"Gone!" I said with a groan, for there were no more fierce tugs, and as I hauled, the line came in yard by yard for me to cast down on the deck.

"The line's broken," said Mr Denning in a husky voice, as he drew out his handkerchief to wipe his face.

"Yes; it was a monster," I said dolefully. "Oh, what a pity!"

"Missed one?" said the captain.

"Yes, sir; a great fellow, five feet long at least."

"One of the big albicores, I dare say," he said. "They are very strong in the water. But he has not broken your line, has he?"

"I'm afraid so," I replied, as I hauled away till the lead rattled against the ship's side. Then another haul or two brought the hook over the rail, for the line was not broken, but the stout wire hook had straightened with the weight of the fish, and had been drawn back out of the creature's jaws.

By this time Walters had pretty well cleared himself from the line tangled about his leg, and he stood looking on and scowling at me in turn as I removed the straightened hook, and put on another from the spare ones with which Jarette had furnished me. This I baited as before and threw over, the line running out rapidly till about the same length was out; and Mr Denning took hold again, the red spots in his cheeks showing how thoroughly he was interested in the sport.

"Better luck to you this time," said the captain, and he nodded and walked away; but Walters stayed, saying nothing, but leaning against the rail, and looking on in a sulky, ill-used way at me and my every action as I attended on Mr Denning.

"We shall never get to be friends," I thought. "He always looks as if he was so jealous that he would like to throw me overboard."

"Shall I fasten the line this time, sir?"

"No, no; not on any account," said Mr Denning. "It would take away half the excitement, and I get so little in my life. Eh, Lena?"

Miss Denning smiled at him half-pityingly, and his face looked very gentle now as he smiled back at her. Then all his attention was directed to the line where it hit the water.

"You will be ready to help if I hook a big one," he said to me; "I'm not so strong as I used to be."

"I'll catch hold directly you tell me," I replied; "but perhaps it will be a small one this time."

I turned to arrange the spare line once more so that it would run out easily, and Miss Denning went closer to her brother, while I became aware now of the fact that Walters was watching me in a sour, sneering way.

"What's the matter?" I said.

"Oh, go on," he whispered; "make much of it. You did that on purpose just now."

"What, when you went down?" I said eagerly. "I didn't, really."

"All right; I'm not blind, and I'm not a fool. Of course we're the favourite, and everything is to give way to us; but never mind, my lad, every dog has his day."

I looked at him with a feeling of wonder that any one could be so thoroughly disagreeable, so determined to look at everything from a wrong point of view, and then I laughed, for it seemed to be utterly absurd that he should misconstrue even that look, for he exclaimed viciously--

"That's right, grin away, my lad; but the day may come when you'll laugh the wrong side of your mouth."

"Why, what a chap you are, Nic!" I whispered. "I never saw such a fellow. Come, let's be friends; I'm sure I want to."

"And I don't, with a miserable sneak who is always trying to undermine me with people."

"Under-grandmother you," I said in a low voice, so that Miss Denning should not hear. "Don't talk such stuff."

"Go on. Insult me as much as you like," he whispered back: "I shan't say anything. You're setting everybody against me, so that instead of being friends, as a young officer should with his equals, I'm obliged to go and talk to the men."

I could not help laughing again at his mock-tragic and absurd way of taking things, and as I honestly felt that if matters were unpleasant it was all his own fault, he leaned toward me now with his eyes half shut and his teeth pressed together as he whispered close to my ear--

"All right. You'll be sorry for it some day, and then--"

"Here's another, Dale! Quick!" cried Mr Denning.

"Yes, yes, quick, quick," cried his sister, and I offended poor Walters again quite unintentionally by swinging one arm across his chest in my hurry and excitement to get to Mr Denning's help; and as I reached over the rail to get hold of the line, I felt sure that my messmate would think that I struck him. For the moment I felt vexed and sorry, then I could not help smiling to think how comic it was that I should keep on upsetting him. Then I forgot all about it in the excitement of righting the fish.

"It's a big one, Mr Denning," I said, as we both held on to the line-- holding on now with it across the rail. "Let's give him a chance to run, and then haul in. Then he can run over again to tire himself."

Mr Denning was too much excited to speak, but he nodded his head, and we let the line run, after I had placed one foot upon it to hold it down on the deck and check its race.

Away went the fish, with ring after ring working off beneath my foot till only about three yards were left.

"Stop it now," cried Mr Denning, and I pressed my foot down hard, feeling a curious quivering sensation run up my leg before I quite stopped the running.

And now the fish began to rush in another direction, giving us an opportunity to haul in some of the line; but we soon had to let it go again; and every time I glanced at Walters, all hot, excited, and eager as I was, I could see that he was looking on with a half-mocking scowl.

But the next minute he gave quite a start and seized the line, for the captain, Mr Brymer, and Mr Frewen had all come up on seeing that a fish had been hooked, and the former said sharply--

"Come, Walters, don't stand there with your hands in your pockets and let Dale do all the work."

And again I upset my messmate as if it were a fatality, for I cried out--

"All right, sir, we can manage. Don't touch the line, Walters."

"No; don't touch the line!" cried Mr Denning, and the lad shrank back as if the thin hemp were red-hot.

Then amidst plenty of excitement and some of the crew coming aft, I helped Mr Denning haul and haul till the fish was gradually drawn so close in that we could see its failing efforts to regain its freedom. Apparently it was nearly five feet long, and its sides flashed in the clear water where it was not foaming with the lashing of the captive's vigorous widely-forked tail.

"Bonito," cried the captain.

"No, no, albicore," said Mr Brymer.

"Suppose we wait till it's fully caught," said Mr Frewen, smiling at Miss Denning, when I saw her brother give him an angry look.

But the next moment I was thinking only of the fish, which was now so exhausted that it had ceased struggling, and allowed itself to be dragged along in the wake of the ship, merely giving a flap with its tail from time to time which turned it from side to side.

"Now," said Mr Denning to me, "let us both haul it on board."

But I protested, saying that the weight of the fish would certainly break it away, and that we should lose it.

To save us from such a catastrophe, I unfastened the other end of the line, made a running noose round the tight line beneath Mr Denning's hands, and let it run down till the noose struck the fish on the nose, and made it give a furious plunge to escape.

But the hook held firm in spite of my dread, and after a little twitching and shaking, with the lookers-on making remarks which only fidgeted me instead of helping, I managed to make the noose glide over the slippery body.

"Now!" cried Mr Frewen, who was as interested as the rest; but before the word was well uttered, I had given the line a sharp snatch just as the running noose was in the narrow part before where the tail fin curved out above and below like a new moon.

This meant a double hold, for the noose tightened, and now in spite of a fresh set of furious struggles the fish was steadily hauled out of the water, and we nearly had it up to the poop-rail, when the hook was torn out of its holding, and the fish hung down quivering and flapping from the noose about its tail.

The weight seemed to be tremendous, but I gave two or three sharp tugs, had the fish over the rail, and over on to the deck, whose planks it began to belabour heavily, while we gazed excitedly at the beautiful creature glistening in its splendid coat of many colours, which flashed gold, silver, orange, scarlet, and metallic blue and green at every quivering blow.

"What is it?" said Mr Denning eagerly, and I remember thinking how animated and well he looked that day.

"Well," said the captain, "many years as I've sailed these seas, I hardly know what to say. It's something like a dolphin, but it's more like a bonito, and it isn't unlike an albicore. What should you say, Brymer?"

"Quite fresh to me," said the mate. "Certainly one of the mackerel family, by its head and the great crescent moon tail."

"Yes, and the short fins on front, top, and bottom. Never mind, it looks a good one for the table, and I congratulate you, Mr Denning, upon your luck. Going to try again?"

"No," said the invalid, peevishly, as he glanced quickly from his sister to the doctor and back. "Thank you for helping me, Alison Dale. Lena, your arm; I'll go below."

No one spoke till he had disappeared, and then the captain shook his head.

"Poor chap," he said, with a sigh. "Here, Dale, Walters, carry the fish to the cook; Hampton--Dumlow, swabs and a bucket."

"Keep tight hold," I cried to my companion, who was holding the head of the fish by a loop of yarn passed through its gills, while I carried it by getting a good grip of the thin tail.

"Do you want to carry it yourself?"

"Not at all. Too heavy."

Just then the fish began to quiver as if it were all steel spring, and waggled its tail so sharply that it flung off my grasp, and once more I offended Walters, for the fish fell across his feet.

"There!" he cried, "you can't deny that. You did it on purpose. A filthy, slimy thing!"

As he stood there with both his hands clenched I thought he was going to strike me; but even if he had it would have made no difference, I should have been obliged to laugh, and laugh I did, till as I was wiping my eyes I found that Jarette the French sailor was close up and looking at me keenly.

"Here, Barney Blane," I said, "take hold."

The man grinned and came and helped me bear it away to the cook, after which I put away the tackle, hanging it to dry before giving it back to its owner. _

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