BY TIDELESS SEAS 77 



from the parapet with long rods innocent of joint 

 or winch-fittings. The fish was played tight-line 

 fashion, and was finally lifted over the man's 

 shoulder, where it might alight on the head of a 

 passing cabhorse. Others were caught out at 

 Calambrone, where a man let out a bilancia net 

 for hire, in great demand among picnic parties, 

 who made great catches of small mullet, anchovies, 

 pilchards and other fry, the whole being cooked 

 and served hot in a neighbouring cottage. 



In those days, and probably still, the amateur 

 fishermen of Leghorn belonged to the working 

 class. If their employers caught fish at all, it 

 was generally with the aid of dynamite. I shall 

 not soon forget the night I spent, lying awake and 

 imagining myself the hero of one of Mr. Le Queux's 

 wonderful romances, with two bombs on my 

 dressing table. A Livornese acquaintance had 

 promised to show me one of these deadly imple- 

 ments. I had protested against their use with 

 more warmth than courtesy, and he, much amused 

 by my attitude, perhaps chose an original way 

 of avenging his order. Late one evening his valet 

 came to my room with a small parcel, tied up in 

 brown paper, and a note. I was spending the 

 evening elsewhere in the building, with Kaiser 

 and his mother in all probability, and I found both 

 on my table when I turned in. I had forgotten 

 all about the bombs, but the note swiftly brought 



