Rob Harlow's Adventures Part 20

"It must be a very grand one," said Joe, wiping his face, for he had resigned the line for a time.

"It pulls like a mule," said Rob, as the captive now made off toward the middle of the river.

"What sort of a hook have you got on, Mr Jovanni?" cried Shaddy.

"One of those big ones, with the wire bound round for about two feet above it."

"Then I tell you what, my lad: I don't believe that strong new cord'll break. S'pose both of you get hold after he's had this run, haul him right up, and let's have a look at him! Strikes me you've got hold of one of them big eely mud-fish by the way he hugs the bottom."

"Shall we try, Joe?"

"I--I'm afraid of losing it," was the reply. "It would be so dreadful now. Perhaps it will be tired soon."

"Don't seem like it, my lad!" said Brazier. "It is not worth so long and exhausting a fight."

"Right, sir, and they've been too easy with him. You get his head up, Mr Rob, as soon as he gives a bit, and then both of you show him you don't mean to stand any more nonsense. That'll make him give in."

"Very well," said Joe, with a sigh. "We have been a long time. Wait till he has had this run."

The line was running out more and more through Rob's fingers as he spoke, and the fish seemed bent on making for the farther sh.o.r.e; but the lad made it hard work for the prisoner, and about two-thirds of the way it began to slacken its pace, almost stopped, quite stopped, and sulked, like a salmon, at the bottom.

"Now both of you give a gentle, steady pull," said Brazier; and Joe took hold of the line and joined Rob in keeping up a continuous strain.

For a few minutes it was like pulling at a log of wood, and Rob declared the line must be caught. But almost as he spoke the fish gave a vicious shake at the hook, its head seemed to be pulled round, the strain was kept up, and the captive yielded, and was drawn nearer and nearer very slowly, but none the less surely, the line falling in rings to the bottom of the boat.

"Bravo!" cried Brazier.

"That's right, both of you!" shouted Shaddy excitedly. "He's dead beat, and I shall have the big hook in his gills before he knows where he is.

Haul away!"

"Are these mud-fish you talk about good eating, Naylor?" asked Brazier.

"Oh yes, sir. Bit eely-like in their way; not half bad. Come, that's winning, gents. Well done. Give me a shout when you want me. I won't come yet so as to get in your way."

"Sha'n't be ready yet," panted Rob. "He is strong. I think you ought to have a harpoon.--I say."

"Yes, sir."

"Do these mud-fish bite?"

"Well, yes, sir," replied Shaddy; "pretty nigh all the fish hereabouts are handy with their teeth."

"Ah, he's off again!" cried Joe; and they had to let the prisoner run.

But it was a much weaker effort, and a couple of minutes later they had hauled in all the line given, and got in so much more that the fish was at the bottom of the river only four or five yards from the boat.

"Now then, both together; that line will hold!" cried Shaddy excitedly; "get him right up and see what he is, and if he begins to fight fierce let him have one more run to finish his flurry, as the whalers call the last fight."

"Ready, Joe?"

"Yes."

"Both together, then."

There were a few short steady pulls, hand over hand, and the prisoner was drawn nearer and nearer, and raised from the bottom slowly and surely, while, as full of excitement now as the lads, Brazier and Shaddy stood close to the edge watching.

"Hurrah!" cried Rob, who was nearest to the gunwale. "I can see him now!"

"Well, what is it--a mud-fish?" asked Brazier.

"No," said Joe, straining his neck to get a glimpse through the clear water, the disturbed mud raised by the struggles of the fish being rapidly swept away. "It's a dorado: I can see his golden scales!"

"Then he's a regular whopper, my lads. Steady, don't lose him!" cried Shaddy. "Shall I come on board?"

"No, not yet," said Joe excitedly. "He may make another rush."

"Why, I say, it isn't a very big one," said Rob.

"No," cried Joe, in a disappointed tone; "but he's coming up backwards, which shows how strong he is."

"Ha, ha!" shouted Rob; "we've caught him by the tail."

"Got the line twisted round it, perhaps," said Brazier. "That's what makes the fish seem so strong."

"Ugh!" yelled Rob, letting go of the line, with the result that it was drawn back rapidly through Joe's fingers, till at a cry from his lips Rob took hold again as the fish ran off and nearly reached its former quarters.

"What's the matter?" said Brazier. "Did the line cut your fingers?"

"No. We've caught a horrid great thing. It isn't a dorado. I saw it well, and it's nearly as long as the boat."

"Gammon!" growled Shaddy. "Here, what's it like, Master Joe?"

"I don't know. I never saw a fish like it before: its tail was all golden scales, and then it was dark at the top and bottom, and went off dark right toward the head."

"Then it must be a mud-fish, I should say, though I never knowed of one with a tail like that. Haul him in again, and I'll get aboard now ready with the hook."

He stepped into the boat, and lay down in the bottom with his arms over the side and his landing-hook, securely bound to a short, stout piece of bamboo, held ready.

"Shan't be in your way, shall I?" he asked.

"No, not at all," replied Joe. "Now, Rob, are you ready?"

"Yes."

"I say, don't let go again."

"I'll try not," replied Rob, and the hauling began once more, with almost as much effort necessary. But at the end of a minute it began to be evident that the fish was tired, for it yielded more and more as the line was drawn in, but kept to its old tactics of hugging the bottom till it was close up to the boat, where, after pausing a moment or two, Rob cried,--

"Now then, both together! Don't miss him, Shaddy! Mind, he's a hideous great thing."