he made a dash at it and hooked it firmly, drawing it
over the side, to lie flapping in the bottom of the boat.

"That's better," cried Will.

"Cheerily ho, my lad; well done," cried Josh. "That's the way to gawf
'em."

"But it's a turbot," said Dick excitedly. "Why, you don't catch turbots
here, and like this?"

"Seems as if we did," said Will laughing, "when we can. We don't often
have a bit of luck like this. He's worth seven or eight shillings."

"My father will buy it," cried Dick. "I say, let him have it."

"Oh, he shall have it if he likes," cried Will, as the turbot was thrown
into the basket to set the skate flapping, and the gurnards curling
their heads round towards their tails like cleaned whiting, and a
regular scuffle took place.

Meanwhile the boat was forced on beneath the line and a whiting and a
couple of small plaice were taken off. Then more bait had disappeared,
and then the last hook was being hauled up when Will snatched at the
hook, made a sharp stroke with it, twisted it round, and held it under
water for a minute before dragging out a nasty grey-looking bag, all
tentacles, and with a couple of ugly eyes, which dropped from the hook
as Will gave it a twist.

"Cuttle-fish," he said. "Did you see him squirt out his ink?"

"And make that cloud in the water?" said Dick. "Yes, I saw."

This curious object with its suckers took his attention as they rowed
back once more to the first buoy, where once more the line was overrun,
the first fish caught being a dog-fish--a long, thin, sharky-looking
creature, with its mouth right underneath and back from its snout, and
its tail not like that of an ordinary fish, but unequal in the fork,
that is to say, with a little lobe and a very large one.

"Game's over," said Josh. "Let's go back and get in the buoy and
creeper."

"Yes," assented Will; "it's of no more use to-night."

"Why?" asked Dick.

"Drove of dogs on the bank, my lad," said Josh. "They'll eat every bait
we put down. No use to fish any more to-night."

Dick did not believe it, but he said nothing as the first buoy was taken
on board, and the little creeper anchor hauled in. Then the oars were
laid in, and Josh set to work hauling in the line, leaving the boat to
drift, the line being strong enough for them to work it up towards the
second buoy, while both took off the baits and the fish--twelve of them,
and all dog-fish, to be killed and thrown overboard.

At last th