Fishing.—Jimmy's Dodge.—Bream-fishing.—Good Sport.—Fecundity of Fish.—Balance Float.—Fish-hatching.—Edith Rose.—A Night Sail. It must not be supposed that the boys neglected that most fascinating of all sports, fishing. They fished in the broads and rivers whenever they had an opportunity. Pike, perch, bream, and eels—all were fish that came to their net; and now that birds' nesting was over they devoted some special days to the pursuit of the gentle art. Some years ago, and at the time of my story, the broads were as full as they could be of coarse fish, especially pike; but by the indiscriminate use of the net and the destruction of spawning fish, the poachers have so thinned the water of pike and perch, that the proprietors are preserving them, and the public are agitating for a close time at certain seasons of the year, so as to protect the breeding fish. Even at the present time, however, the bream is so abundant as to afford plenty of sport to every fisher, however poor he may be. In shape this fish is something like a pair of bellows and it is commonly met with from one to five pounds in weight. It swarms in vast shoals and when it is in the mood for biting, you may catch as many as you like—and more sometimes, for the bream is not a nice fish to handle; it is covered with thick glutinous slime, which sticks to and dries on the hands and clothes. Bream-fishers provide themselves with a cloth, with which to handle the fish and wipe off the slime. One morning Frank, while dressing at his open window, looked at the broad and was surprised to see it dotted with round, bright coloured objects. "What can they be?" he said to himself in surprise. "They cannot be trimmers. They look like bladders, but who would paint bladders red, blue, green, and yellow? I am going to see." He dressed rapidly and ran towards the water. Standing on the margin was Jimmy, his hands in his pockets and a self-satisfied smile on his face. "What have you been doing Jimmy?" said Frank. "Oh! I thought you would be astonished. I bought the whole stock of one of those fellows who sell India-rubber balloons, and I thought I would have a great haul of fish; so I fastened a line and hook to each balloon and set them floating before the wind. Don't you think it a grand dodge?" "Well, you are a funny fellow. I call it a poaching trick, of which you ought to be ashamed, Master Jimmy but I suppose you are not. I expect these balloons will burst directly a big fish pulls them a little under the water. There goes one now; I saw it disappear,—and there's another, with a pop you can hear at this distance." Jimmy began to look rather blue, and said, "Hadn't we better go off after them in a boat, or we shall lose all our lines? All we had are fastened to them." "Oh, you sinner! you don't mean to say that you have used our joint-stock lines?" "Yes, I have." "Then we had better go out at once." They got into the punt and rowed off after the toy balloons, which were floating swiftly before the breeze. The first they came up to had a small perch on. The next burst just as they reached it, and they saw the glimmer of a big fish in the water. There were twenty balloons set on the water, and it took them a long hour's work before they could recover all that were to be recovered. Out of twenty they only brought in ten. The rest had burst, and the lines were lost. Of the ten which they recovered five had small perch on, which were not worth having. So Jimmy's grand scheme turned out a failure, as so many grand schemes do. The others chaffed him very much about it, as a punishment for losing the lines, and for doing anything on his own hook without consulting the others. After a wet week in July it was resolved to have a good day's bream fishing. The broad itself was more adapted for perch and pike, for it had a clear gravel bottom; and the river was always considered the best for bream, because its bottom was more muddy, and bream like soft muddy ground. The boys collected an immense quantity of worms, and taking on board a bag of grains for ground-bait, they sailed one Friday evening down to Ranworth and selected a likely spot in the river on the outside of a curve. They proceeded to bait the place well with grains and worms, and then went to sleep, with a comfortable certainty of sport on the morrow. The white morning dawned and made visible a grey dappled sky, the silent marsh and the smooth river, off which the mists were slowly creeping. Small circles marked where the small fish were rising, but all about where the ground-bait had been put the water was as still as death. The fish were at the bottom, picking up the last crumbs and greedily wishing for more. Frank was the first to rise. "Now then, you lazy fellows, it is time to begin. There is a soft south wind and the fish are waiting. We will just run along the bank to have a dip away from our fishing-ground, and then we will begin." After their bathe their rods were soon put together. Dick fished with paste made of new bread and coloured with vermilion. Jimmy had some wasp grubs, and Frank used worms. They tossed up for stations, and Dick was posted at the bows, Jimmy, amidships, and Frank at the stern. The hooks were baited, and the floats were soon floating quietly down the stream. Frank had a float which gave him a longer swim than his companions. Before the floats had completed their first swim, Dick cried "I have a bite." "So have I," said Frank. "And so have I," added Jimmy. "How absurd," said Frank, as they were all engaged with a fish at the same time. All three fishes were too large to land without a landing-net, and Dick held Frank's rod while he helped to land Jimmy's fish, and then Jimmy helped to land the others. The fishes were as nearly as possible three pounds each, great slab-sided things, which gave a few vigorous rushes and then succumbed quietly to the angler. And so the sport went on. At every swim one or the other of them had a bite, and as they did not choose to lose time by using the cloth to every fish, they were soon covered with the slime off them, which dried on their white flannels and made them in a pretty mess. "In what immense numbers these fish must breed," said Dick. "Yes," answered Frank, "fish of this kind lay more eggs than those of the more bold and rapacious kind, such as the perch and pike. I have read that 620,000 eggs have been counted in the spawn of a big carp. You see that so many of the young are destroyed by other fish that this is a necessary provision of nature. I once saw the artificial breeding of trout by a way which I have never told you of, and it was most interesting. It was in Cheshire, where some gentlemen had preserved a trout-stream and wished to keep up the stock. Into the large stream a small rivulet ran down a cleft in the bank like a small ravine, and in this cleft they had built their sheds. The trout-spawn was placed in troughs which had "I did not know that water-rats ate fish," said Jimmy. "No, water-rats don't, although many people think they do. They live only on vegetable food, and it is a pity to kill them; but the common rat, which is as often seen by the river side as the other, will eat fish, or whatever it can get." It would be tedious to recount the capture of every fish, "I am thoroughly tired of this," said Dick at length; "this is not sport, it is butchery, especially as we do not know what to do with them now we have caught them, except to give them to some farmer for manure." "No," said Frank; "that is why I do not care much for bream fishing, or any sport where one cannot use the things one kills; but we will give the best of these fish to old Matthew Cox and his wife, who have nothing but the parish allowance to live on. I dare say they will be glad enough of them." Cox, who was a poor old man scarce able to keep body and soul together, was glad indeed to have them, but their number puzzled him, until Mrs. Brett suggested that he should pickle them, and gave him some vinegar for the purpose. Contrary to Frank's expectation, the wind had not risen, but towards the afternoon died away, and with the exception of a shower, so summerlike that the gnats danced between the rain-drops, the day had been very fine and calm. When the boys left off fishing the water was as calm as at five o'clock in the morning, and there was not the slightest chance of their reaching home that night. This was awkward, as the next day was Sunday, and they had no change of raiment with them. They made the best of it, sending a note home by post to explain their absence. In the morning there was a debate as to whether they should go to church or not. "Let us go," said Frank. "No one will know us, so it does not matter what we have on." So to church they went, in their dirty white flannels. It was their intention to sit near the door and try to escape observation, but they found the back seats of the little church full of children, and a churchwarden ushered them all the way up the church to the front pew, which they took. Just before the service began, a lady and gentleman, and a young lady who was apparently their daughter, came into the large square pew in which our boys sat, whereupon the tanned cheeks of our "I beg your pardon, but are you not Miss Rose?" "Yes, Mr. Merivale, but I thought you would not have remembered me. Papa, this is Mary Merivale's brother." Mr. Rose looked rather curiously at Frank and his friends, and Frank at once answered the unspoken question by saying, "We are yachting, sir, and we are windbound, without any change of clothes. We should have been ashamed to come to church if we had thought we should meet anyone we knew." "I am very glad to have met you. You and your friends must come and dine with me," was Mr. Rose's reply. So, in spite of their slimy-covered clothes and fishy smell, they were welcomed, and had a pleasant day. Edith Rose was so very pretty and nice, that Frank began to think Dick was not quite such a goose for being spoons on his sister, as he had previously thought him. About ten they returned to the yacht, and found that the wind had risen, and was blowing tolerably hard. As they were anxious to get back in time to be with Mr. Meredith on Monday morning, they resolved to sit up until twelve o'clock and then start homeward. The night was starlight, and light enough for them to see their way on the water; and as the hands on their watches pointed to twelve they hoisted sail and glided away through the grey stillness of the night, beneath the starlit blue of the midnight sky, with no sound audible save the hissing of the water curling against their bows, the flapping of the sails as they tacked, and the occasional cry of a bird in the reeds; and about five o'clock they arrived home, and turned in on board the yacht for a couple of hours' sleep before breakfast. |