170 THE SALT OF MY LIFE 



Very pretty sport that calm bay gave me ; a 

 daily basket of small sea-breams, wrasse, bass 

 and red mullet, two of the last (Abslam called 

 them " Sultan-el-Hoot," king of fishes) within 

 ten minutes, the first and last red mullet I ever 

 took on the rod. Abslam caught a third and a 

 dory, and all four fish were welcomed that night 

 at the hotel. 



In addition to undoubted skil], Abslam had 

 the patience of his race. Above most races are 

 the Moors fitted for the arts of fishing and diplo- 

 macy, having inexhaustible stock of both patience 

 and cunning. Abslam baited a hook well and 

 rarely did he miss a fish. If he did, it was the will 

 of Allah ; it was fate. 



Far different was the temperament of Jose the 

 Spaniard, with whom I now and then went out 

 for a change. He was as good a fisherman as 

 Ab?lam when he liked, but he was a lazy chewer 

 of cigarette stumps and spent as much time in 

 expectoration as Abs]am in prayer. As for his 

 patience, it was only excelled by his beauty. 

 When he missed a fish, or went long without a 

 bite, he mouthed profanities that made the flesh 

 creep. It might be the wi]l of Allah, but Allah 

 ought to know better ! " An arrant knave in 

 common dealings and very prostitute," as Swift 

 once wrote of Lord Rivers, was Jose, yet a brave, 

 devil-may-care fellow, who would have stuck his 



