IV 



My Log 389 



Quiet gulls sit tamely outside, Quakerlike and sleek, 

 in their white waistcoats and drab coats, with yellow 

 bills marked with red, like a jaundiced friend with a 

 red nose, sly and rapacious for all their demureness, 

 unlike the Quaker in that perhaps, — perhaps not. 



The water seems solidly blue beneath us except 

 when we swing over some patch of white rock or 

 sand, and then it suddenly becomes translucent and 

 transparent, and lets us see the beautiful little rock- 

 fish playing in and out of the rock crannies, and 

 round and about the waving sea-weeds. The fishing 

 for these fish is as the fishing for roach ; a light 

 rod of a single cane, a long gut line and small hooks, 

 and the omnipotent shrimp for a bait. As bottom- 

 fishing it is excellent ; indeed, with the exception of 

 fishing for perch, when there are any and they bite, 

 the only sort of bottom-fishing to be endured by the 

 generous soul. One never knows what is going to 

 happen next, either in the matter of shape or colour. 

 The most brilliant, perhaps, is a small chap with two 

 bright red and one bright apple-green stripes laid 

 longitudinally on to each side, as bright as if freshly 

 done with a brush and then varnished. Many put 

 one much in mind of the domestic roach and dace 

 at home. Some are like roach and dace mangled 

 out flat, with a round black spot above the tail. 

 These are good eating, as is also a beautiful silvery 

 fish with golden bars along his side. Plenty of red 

 bream there are who fight well and make great fun. 

 The big Spanish bream lie farther out and require 



