PLATING A COALFISH. 67 



Pollack, or whatsoever else would give us an op- 

 portunity of hooking it. 



No sooner had we got our troll-lines out, with 

 their little red indiarubber sand-eels spinning be- 

 witchingly at the ends as the men rowed steadily 

 alongside the rocks, than I felt a mighty tug at 

 mine. " A monster, by George ! " thought I, and 

 fearful of losing him tightened my hold upon the 

 line. This was a fatal mistake, for it instantly 

 parted, and my fish went off to consider, in the 

 quiet of some dark cave many fathoms below, the 

 baseness of the imitation he had secured. 



Fortunately, the minister had a spare line on 

 board, which he kindly lent me. It was baited with 

 a real sand-eel, which had been captured in a 

 despisable trickle of water running from the side 

 of Conagher into the bay, had its skin taken off to 

 make it look conspicuous, and then been lashed with 

 white cotton thread to an artfully-concealed hook. 



I had not had this line out more than half 

 a minute before I felt another exhilarating jerk. 

 The fish I had hooked plunged and kicked like 

 a newly-haltered colt. I played him carefully for a 

 while, and when I judged he had run the measure 

 of his strength gently hauled him in. Directly he 

 came alongside the boat, however, he bethought 

 himself of his almost lost liberty, and with an angry 

 slap of his tail rolled over and disappeared beneath 

 the craft. I slacked the line instantly lest he should 

 saw it in two across the keel, and he promptly 

 dived. After another short tussle I worked him 

 back to the side of the boat, where he lay on the 

 surface of the water with his mouth wide open. 

 Holding the line in my right hand I plunged my 

 left into his gills and hauled him on board. He was 

 a Coalfish weighing about twelve and a half pounds. 



