174 WHAT I HAVE SEEN WHILE FISHING 



hour or two were spent catching those pretty hungry 

 fish called chad. 



At dusk our boat was anchored in Porthoustock 

 Bay and, as we were tying dead chad to the strings 

 that were to be our lines for the new sport, darkness 

 fell quite suddenly and lamps were lit. Soon to 

 one and then to another, of the lines came the 

 drawing tug that tells of the clinging grasp of the 

 octopus-like squid, our present prey. Then, while 

 the line was being drawn very gently, the lantern 

 was focussed on the uplifting line until the lure, 

 showing silver save for the dark encircling tentacles, 

 was near the surface. When not otherwise engaged 

 I turned my search-light on each and every face in 

 turn and had much diversion until the moon came 

 up beyond the clouds and threw light and brightness 

 everywhere. 



Often the sucking fish would lose its hold and 

 sink back to its home to wait for some less won- 

 drously resisting food. Then the bait had to be 

 dropped back, as quickly as could be managed, to 

 tempt another tugging cling. 



At times they brought the quarry within reach 

 of my gaffing stick a cane with a large triangle 

 hook at the end of it and there was a black com- 

 motion in the water that told good bait was ours for 

 the morrow's fishing. 



It would have been wiser had I kept strictly to 

 my duties as gaffer and not entrusted them to my 

 youngest son, for he, at his first attempt, lifted high 



