POLLACK AND PILCHARDS 107 



George lowered over the side a dreadful implement 

 made out of three hooks lashed in a triangle, like 

 that in use by pike-fishermen, but with the barbs 

 filed off. This fearful engine he jerked about 

 among the rocks until at length a look of satis- 

 faction spread slowly over his face, and he brought 

 up a wicked looking squid, vainly lashing the 

 water and discharging what remained of his ink. 

 As it is absolutely hopeless to go on fishing when 

 squid are on the path, we took in our lines and 

 left George to catch three or four more, which we 

 resolved to turn to account that night on the 

 conger-ground. 



The conger roams at night all over the rocky 

 bay, indeed there must be a seething progress of 

 congers right around the coast of Cornwall as soon 

 as the sun goes down behind the Land's End. 

 About six in the evening, a couple of hours after 

 the departure of the pilchard fleet, we leave the 

 harbour and sail eastward. Soon we see the pil- 

 chard boats drifting towards us from just beyond 

 the Gribbin, having in fact shot their nets off 

 Fowey. The breeze is too light to put out the 

 mackerel lines, so we resolve to depend entirely 

 on squid bait until at any rate we can perhaps 

 pick up a pilchard or two from one of the boats 

 when the nets are hauled later on. We anchor 

 in beautifully smooth water off Charlestown just 

 as the church clock strikes seven. We are not 



