208 THE SALT OF MY LIFE 



boat, which was a step in the direction of a more 

 intimate acquaintance. All that day the wind 

 blew hard from the south-west, and little " white 

 horses " galloped across the water, much to my 

 host's disgust, for such cavalry, he declared, was 

 .a menace to our sport in the afternoon. It was 

 not therefore in any very sanguine frame of mind 

 that we returned to our boat at four in the after- 

 noon, a couple of hours before low water, and 

 once more took up the correct position for fishing 

 the down-tide. Again, the rods were put together, 

 and the ground-bait was flung as a sop to the mul- 

 let. In future, I think I shall always tempt the 

 Fates to be kind by sallying forth with the con- 

 viction of failure, for in the midst of my despon- 

 dency at having to record yet another misfire, 

 down went the float and I too enjoyed the sensation 

 of a good mullet careering in an arc with as wide 

 a circumference as I dare allow so near the iron- 

 work. Even then they assured me that the fish 

 was not yet caught, as mullet very often, and 

 sometimes unaccountably, break away at the last 

 moment. But luck was mine this time, and a 

 fish of a shade over three pounds, a beautiful, 

 fighting silvery mullet, lay gasping in the landing- 

 net. Such is the importance assumed by a fish 

 that has hitherto baffled all one's efforts, that I 

 doubt whether any man ever thrilled more over 

 his first salmon than did I when at last the net 



