120 FISHES I HAVE KNOWN 



Dining with an old colonist at his comfortable 

 residence in the suburb of North Adelaide, my 

 host casually asked me if I cared to go out on a 

 steamer belonging to a fishing company in which 

 he was interested. Of course I said " Yes." " Well, 

 we shall have to start from Glenelg [one of the 

 ports] to-morrow evening, sleep on board, and be 

 on the ground the first thing in the morning." 

 " All right," I replied. "Then meet me," he said, "on 

 the pier at nine o'clock to-morrow. You cannot 

 mistake the Spencer. She has a black funnel with 

 a broad band of blue, on which are the letters 

 A.F.C. [Adelaide Fishing Company]. I'll ask 

 several other fellows, and we'll have a jolly old 

 time, if only the weather holds as it is. If it 

 blows hard, don't trouble to come down, for the 

 Spencer won't move from her moorings for all the 

 schnapper in the world." 



Nine o'clock saw me on board in a roomy saloon 

 with six congenial spirits all animated with a 

 burning desire to distinguish themselves. A 

 good supper, one pipe apiece, and we turned in 

 early. All hands were roused long before day- 

 light I believe about I a.m. and, casting off the 

 pier, we reached Kingscote Harbour, Kangaroo 

 Island (a seventy-mile run) about sunrise. 



The eastern sky flushed from faintest rose to 



