220 THE SALT OF MY LIFE 



pelican. He recalled strange Pathan oaths, ac- 

 quired no doubt in earlier days from those whom 

 he had hanged after they had sniped in vain ; 

 I lisped sentiments, not less fervent, in a readier 

 tongue. There were the bass of Poole, bass of 

 enormous size, which one August night I sought 

 with lively prawns in a downpour of rain, that 

 drove me back to the hospitality of the ' ' Antelope/ ' 

 Were there not also the heavy cod of Bexhill, 

 the fighting pollack of Lulworth, the abundant 

 whiting of the Eddystone ? All of these were 

 failures on the occasions that I have, black on 

 white, before me. In pursuit of the cod I spent 

 futile days at the then undeveloped Sussex resort ; 

 for the pollack I put in a whole week in the beauti- 

 ful cove and around Durdle Door ; the whiting 

 cost me a night's rest and the hire of a smack. 

 To my own rod the total bag in these three ex- 

 peditions was : cod, none ; pollack over 5 Ibs., 

 none ; whiting, five. When I sought to explain 

 the Bexhill failure, I failed ; but at Lulworth want 

 of bait, and at the Eddystone excess of tide were 

 the causes of our distress. The Sydney grouper, 

 the Tasmanian trumpeter, the Queensland perch, 

 all among the fish that failed, were noticed in 

 their right place. 



The Maldon " brill," failure was rather amusing, 

 or so at any rate I am able to consider it after the 

 lapse of years, though at the time the humour of 



