84 l^fMBLES OF A <DO MINIS 



to us, were to speak Gaelic, and to play " the pipes." 

 " We had a steward once," he said, " who could do them 

 beautifully. He would come and play on deck in the 

 evenings ; and, man ! it was like heaven." 



Fishing in the tarns was poor work, but there was 

 always plenty of sport in the loch below, especially by 

 spinning an artificial sand-eel from the boat. The usual 

 plan was to pay out a couple of lines over the stern of 

 the dingy, and pull slowly along about an oar's length 

 from the shore. 



Here under the cliff the air is quiet ; there seems no 

 sound or movement but the regular dip of the oar-blades. 

 A troop of curlews catch sight of us as we pass the 

 entrance of their creek, rise all together, and fly farther 

 in behind the shelter of the island. 



There is a tug at one of the lines. We haul it hastily 

 in a rock codling, a two-pounder, a capital fish. Five 

 minutes later we land another a lythe this time, not 

 quite so large. And then there is a mighty pull; but 

 the fish, whatever it was, was not fairly hooked, and he 

 is off. There is hardly time to lament his loss when 

 there is a lythe on the other line, a monster indeed, half 

 disposed to show fight. But the tackle holds, and he is 

 soon within reach of the boat. " Ready there with the 

 gaff ? " That's it ; now we have him, a good ten-pounder 

 at least. 



We had enough for our needs, -and we had watched 

 the skipper haul up a couple of fine cod-fish on the 

 yacht. The lines were got in. We turned the boat 

 into a little harbour that the waves had carved out of 



