FISHING REMINISCENCES. 295 



retraced my way, brimful with what I had seen and 

 anxious to convey the important information to my 

 kind and worthy acquaintance, the captain. 



That evening we discussed our plans, MacGregor 

 being in excellent spirits, having found that the ship's 

 leak could easily be stopped, and that the injury was 

 far from serious. As he was his own employer he 

 thought he would indulge in a little recreation, and 

 set his men to painting, sail-making, and all those 

 minor et ceteras so constantly wanted on board ship, 

 while we in company flogged the river or otherwise en- 

 joyed ourselves. That night we sat up later than 

 usual, and fishing excursions for years gone by were 

 discussed, tales told of the first blood we had drawn, 

 of the largest fish we had captured, and where they 

 had succumbed to our prowess. Old, musty, moth- 

 eaten fly-hooks and feathers, that appeared as if they 

 had not seen the light of day for years, were produced 

 from his numerous lockers, and as they were examined, 

 and various pages turned over, numerous were the 

 anecdotes narrated in connection with each. 



Jock roused us an hour before daylight next morn- 

 ing, and having discussed an excellent cup of coffee we 

 got into the stern sheets of one of the boats with two 

 of the crew to pull us to our destination. As the 

 captain commenced fishing a fine sea-trout rose at the 

 fly. Judging from the splash he was of more than 

 usual size and worth making a second effort for; 

 again the cunningly- disguised hook was passed over his 

 retreat, but with the same result ; a third trial was 

 essayed, and as the third time is said to be lucky so it 

 proved, for the fish was hooked. The struggles and 

 devices this fish practised to escape were worthy of 



