A heavy, chunky fish of an old-gold color, with an almost continuous line of fins, was the next habitant of the sea to cross the dory gunwale. Jim held him up to show Percy.
"Look at this cusk! He likes rocky bottom as well as a haddock. He's used to deep water, and if you start him up quick his stomach will blow out of his mouth like a bladder. I've seen 'em so plenty that they floated a trawl on top of water for half a mile."
Seven or eight small haddock and cusk, and then once more the trawl began to yield hake.
"Back again on muddy bottom," said Jim. "What d'you say to trying your hand at it?"
Percy agreed, but without enthusiasm. He had seen enough to realize that pulling a trawl was no sinecure. By means of a fish-fork Jim pitched his catch aboard the sloop. The first tub of trawl was now full. He transferred it to the Barracouta and set an empty tub in its place.
"You'll find fishing is no bed of roses," he remarked as he dropped down into the standing-room.
"I believe you," answered Percy, with conviction.
He started to get aboard the dory.
"Not there!" warned Jim. "Forward of the kid-board!"
The caution came too late. Percy stepped into the slippery pen from which the fish had just been pitched; unluckily, too, he was not careful to plant his weight amidships. The dory, overbalanced to starboard, careened suddenly, and he fell sprawling on the slimy bottom. Jim could not repress an exclamation of impatience.