SEA FISHING 

 diagonally across to the shallows, either close to the mudbank called 

 Salty, or, later on the tide, alongside the permanent way of the Great 

 Western Railway. 



As soon as the boat is placed so as to drift stern-first, the fisherman, 

 who sits facing the stern, and with his back to the man who rows, lowers 

 his bait in the water and pulls line quietly off the reel, paying out slowly, 

 so that the line cants away upstream. If the reel has a removable check, 

 it is advisable to have the check on while paying out, as it has happened 

 before now that the bait is seized by a big bass close to the boat, and this 

 entails great risk of the reel overrunning, in which case the line would 

 hitch, and the fisherman would be left to quote those soulful words of 



De Musset. . . . 



Adieu! je crois qu'en cette vie 



Je ne te reverrai jamais . . . 



This sort of parting is anything but sweet sorrow, and should be avoided 

 at all costs. Much of what follows, once thirty or forty yards of line have 

 been paid out in this way, depends on the man at the oars, as much, indeed, 

 as on the man with the rod. Our indebtedness to our gillies in all manner 

 of fishing in boats rarely meets with its due recognition. Once a heavy 

 fish is hooked in the tideway, I do not hesitate to say, however unpopular 

 such a pronouncement may be, that the boatman may, if he know his 

 work, have a greater share in its capture than the angler. Even before the 

 bait is taken, he has to know exactly how fast to let the boat travel. If 

 the hook goes to the bottom, there is imminent risk of its either fouling a 

 sunken chain or catching a conger eel, and it would be difficult to say 

 which alternative is less welcome. If he holds the boat back so as to let 

 the bait rise to the surface, the result will probably be a blank, as it is 

 not natural to see a sand-eel right at the top of the water, and the bass 

 know as much. The precise length of line to pay out is a matter of taste. 

 On the brightest days, I have had most success when fishing fully fifty 

 yards from the boat, always assuming, of course, that there is no other 

 boat immediately in the way. On the whole, this may be regarded as 

 excessive, particularly as, with only sixty yards of line altogether, it 

 leaves only ten on the reel for the first rush, and the fisherman must know 

 the game very well indeed to run matters so fine. 



A big bass rushes away with the line in no uncertain manner. The 

 rod bends, the reel screams, and now the object of both men in the boat 

 is to coax the bass out of the tideway and into the shallows, where it is 



347 



