174 



THE SALT OF MY LIFE 



was getting her anchors up almost as we stepped 

 on board. A large shoal of grey mullet could be 

 seen feeding madly round the condensing pipe, and 

 over these some children vainly brandished hooks 

 baited with meat ! Quickly procuring a piece 

 of bread, I was just in time to catch two as the 

 screw took its first turn and dispelled the shoal. 

 Else, had I been an hour earlier and I had only 

 been loafing at the hotel, as I now reflected with 

 bitter regret I might perhaps have made the 

 record catch of mullet of my life. That is the grey 

 mullet all over. You make conscientious and 

 elaborate preparations for its capture and never 

 see so much as a flick of its tail. Then it gathers 

 in hundreds alongside your steamer just as the 

 wretched anchor-chains are groaning through the 

 hawse pipes. Kismet ! 



MOORS HAULING A SHORE-SEINE. 



