A FORLORN QUEST, ETC. 253 



I followed Mr. Holder's instructions to the letter, 

 and all the native fishermen who saw my tackle 

 admitted that, being so fine, it would certainly 

 be seized before their coarser lines, but that it 

 would as certainly be broken in the first rush 

 of the frantic fish. As the boat was anchored in 

 such deep and troubled water, I was disinclined 

 to criticise their unfavourable forecast. 



In addition to the shore-fishing already des- 

 cribed, there were two other kinds of sport at 

 Funchal, which served to pass the time and to 

 console us for the tunny that failed. 



The first of these was the mackerel-fishing just 

 beneath the windows of the Palace Hotel, or on 

 another ground, just east of the Pontina, which 

 we did not try. At sunset every evening a fleet 

 of from fifteen to fifty small open boats would 

 assemble on an area of not much more then ten 

 acres, so that a neighbourly spirit was necessary 

 for complete harmony to reign. Unfortunately, 

 some of the crews were from Cama de Lobos, 

 naughty knaves and quite unworthy their lovely 

 home with its crescent beach and background of 

 mighty cliffs. These ruffians were suspected of 

 keeping aboard their boats plentiful ammunition 

 of stones, with which to pelt anyone fishing too 

 close to them. That they gave passers by a 

 broadside of very foul language there was no 

 question of suspicion, though any one ignorant 



