AND HOW I HAVE CAUGHT MY FISH 63 



bridge cut it open in my presence, and took from 

 it a rubber football such as children kick on espla- 

 nades. The ball was slit, but it was all there. 



From Seagull Spink there is a continuous rocky, 

 weedy bottom, at a depth sufficient to hold the 

 largest fish, for about four miles to Muckross Head, 

 where pollack are as thick as priests in Rome at 

 Christmas time. The soft breeze had freshened 

 slightly, and the wavy ripple washed the rocks with 

 a pleasing hissing sound. 



It would be a pleasing picture of certain sport 

 could Kirk but stand and point his camera with 

 steady aim. He did his best while I gripped him 

 from behind by his neck and seat as policemen do 

 the prisoners they run in. The rocky promontory 

 called Muckross Point is of horizontally-laid stones, 

 that form steps upwards into the clear sky and 

 downwards into the blue sea. They spread out 

 from the topmost step, bow-shaped, in an ever- 

 increasing length so far as the eye can peer ; but 

 of the bottom steps from which the pollack came 

 there can be no account, other than that the fish 

 from off them were boisterously hungry and in 

 such numbers as told of weedy carpets on them. 

 So hungry were they that they came from great 

 depths, took our baits, and then dived straight 

 down. It was the length of line they took in their 

 return that enabled us to measure the depth from 

 which they came. 



Kirk is quite an adept in discovering the height 



