1 76 WHAT I HAVE SEEN WHILE FISHING 



followed by headlong dives, the funnel-necked 

 gannets that told the tide was coming and, with 

 it, a shoal of mackerel or the more delicate and 

 tasty pilchard. 



It was time to choose the spot and let down our 

 anchor where we could pay out line to reach the 

 sunken rock that gives a holding to swarms of fish. 



From behind us came the blowing of the noisy 

 porpoise-school which passed close by in their long 

 drill lines while, from almost overhead, the gannets 

 hurled themselves down in quick succession on a 

 mass of fluttering fish that made the water hiss 

 and ripple in patches, that shifted almost as quickly 

 as the cloud shadows on a sunlit meadow, as their 

 enemies from beneath made rushes for them. 



The now fast-flowing tide took toothsome white 

 mouthfuls of our overnight captures into the very 

 midst of this game of preyed upon and preying, 

 and we were soon as busy as the busiest. 



It was a happy time. Noisy voices called for 

 gaff or another bait-piece and the impatient one 

 girded his Dad for slowness, while his two brothers 

 were desperately engaged with violent fish. 



Then came trouble, for the youngest had allowed 

 his line to become entangled at the winch while 

 letting out his bait. A fish came on that caused 

 his top joint to give loud serried knocks upon the 

 gunwale of the boat, which ended in a snap, and 

 there was one put out of action. Not for long ; a 

 smile came over the sudden-sorrowed face, and he 



