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"Eight feet long exactly," said Mr Temple, who had been measuring it.
"Be she, though?" said the captain, "well, it be eight foot o' mischief well put out of the way, and that's a good day's work."
They stopped looking at the long thin shark for some minutes, d.i.c.k thinking that it was not so very much unlike a dog-fish after all, and then they turned back to the net, which was being rapidly emptied, the mackerel that were left being quickly counted out into baskets and tied down, those obtained now forming what d.i.c.k would have considered quite a good take.
But there were plenty of other fish, though none were very small, the size of the meshes being sufficiently large to allow of their escape.
There was one more large hake, and quite a little shoal of red bream, _chad_, as Will called them. Several dog-fish were there too, and some more squid. The fish, however, that most took the attention of the boys now were about a score of red mullet, and half as many more of the grey, very different fish, though, the one being as gorgeous in its scarlet tints as the other was plain, silvery, and grey.
At last, after a most interesting examination of the different captures, the net was declared and proved to be empty, the damaged fish it contained being thrown out upon the sands, where the waves of the flowing tide kept curling over them, and sweeping the refuse away, to be snapped up by the shoals of hungry fish that came up the bay, the thousands that had been captured that morning being as nothing in the immensity of the ocean population.
"Home?" said d.i.c.k suddenly, as Mr Temple said something about going.
"Of course. Why, we haven't had our dinner!"
"What is for dinner, I wonder?" said Arthur.
"For one thing, fish," said Mr Temple, "for your friend Will went to the inn an hour ago with a basket of the best; so let's go and see if they are done."
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.
MR. ARTHUR TEMPLE IS NOT IN THE LEAST ALARMED.
"Father," cried d.i.c.k, bursting into the room where Mr Temple was busy with weights, scales, test-tubes, a lamp, and blow-pipe, trying the quality of some metals--"father, here's Will Marion and Mr Marion's man Josh come to see if we'd like to go with them to-night conger-fis.h.i.+ng."
"To-night?"
"Yes; they won't bite very well of a day. He knows a place where--"
"Who is _he_?" said Mr Temple.
"I mean Will, father; he knows of a place where the congers are plentiful, and Josh says he'll take the greatest care of us."
"Whom do you mean by us?" said Mr Temple.
"Arthur and me, father. Taff wants to go very badly."
"I hardly know what to say, d.i.c.k," said Mr Temple thoughtfully. "Last time you came to grief, and had a narrow escape."
"Oh, but that isn't likely to occur again, father!" said d.i.c.k. "It would be such a treat, too."
"Humph! what am I to do, my boy--coddle you up, and keep you always under my eye; or give you a little lat.i.tude, and trust to your discretion to take care of yourself and your brother?"
"Give me a little lat.i.tude, father--and longitude too," added d.i.c.k with a laugh in his eye.
"Well, I will, d.i.c.k; but you must be very careful, my lad, especially of Arthur."
"Oh, but Taff is such a solemn old gentleman with his stick-up collar and his cane that he ought to take care of me, father!"
"Perhaps he ought," said Mr Temple; "but I tell you to take care of him."
"All right, father! I will."
"By the way, d.i.c.k, that lad Marion seems a very decent fellow."
"Decent, father! Why, he's a splendid chap. He has rough hands and wears fisherman's clothes and does hard work, but he has been to a big grammar-school in Devons.h.i.+re somewhere, and he knows a deal more Greek than I do, and quite as much Latin."
"Indeed!"
"Yes, that he does. It made Arthur stare, for he was coming the great man over Will Marion, and being very condescending."
"Yes, it is a way Master Arthur has," muttered Mr Temple frowning.
"I said to Taff that he ought not to, but he would. I like Will Marion.
Josh says he'll be owner of a lot of fis.h.i.+ng-boats and nets some day when his uncle dies; but he says Will thinks he would like to make his own way in the world, and that it is very foolish of him."
"Oh, that's what Josh thinks, is it?"
"Yes, father."
"And what do you think?"
"That a lad ought to be independent and try and fight his own way in the world. I mean to."
"That's right, my boy. Keep to that text and you will succeed. You may have a good many downfalls first, but sooner or later you will get on.
There, go away now. I'm busy testing ere."
"Can I help you, father?"
"No, my lad, no. Not now. There, be off, and don't get into any mischief."
"No, father. And about the conger-fis.h.i.+ng?"
"If you will take great care you may go."
"Hooray!"
"But stop. Tell that man Josh that I hold him responsible for taking care of you."
"Yes, father," cried d.i.c.k. "Hooray!" he whispered as he darted out of the room, and came so suddenly upon Arthur that he sent him backwards into a sitting position.
Arthur sat looking petrified with pain and astonishment, cane in one hand, a book in the other. Then starting up as d.i.c.k offered him his hand laughingly, saying, "I'm very sorry, Taff!" Arthur raised his cane and struck his brother viciously across the shoulder a regular stinging cut, while, smarting with the pain, d.i.c.k struck back at him, and gave him so severe a blow in the cheek that Arthur this time measured his length on the floor.
"Quiet, you boys, quiet!" said Mr Temple angrily, as he opened his door. "Go and play down on the sh.o.r.e."
d.i.c.k's anger evaporated on the instant, and was succeeded by a feeling of mingled shame and sorrow.
"Oh, I am sorry, Taff!" he said, helping his brother to rise. "You shouldn't have hit me, though. If anybody hurts me like that I'm sure to hit out again."