“It’s one of the big lake fish!” exclaimed the captain. “They’re as strong as a pony. Wait, I’ll cut the line!”
“No, don’t!” begged Ned, who, now that his three chums had hold of him, was in no danger of going overboard, though the thin, but tough cord, was cutting deep into his wrist, where he had foolishly tied it.
“Here, lend a hand!” called Captain Wiggs to a sailor who was passing. The man grabbed the line with both hands and soon was able, with the help which Frank and Fenn gave him, to haul in the fish. It seemed as if they really had a shark on the end of the line, but, when the finny specimen was gotten on deck, it was seen that it was not as large as the boys had imagined.
“Who would have thought it was so strong?” asked Ned, rubbing his chafed wrist.
“The speed of the boat had something to do with it,” said the captain. “You were pulling on the fish broadside I guess, but it is a very strong species even at that. They’re not often caught on a hand line.”
“Are they good to eat?” asked Ned, wishing to derive some benefit from his experience.
“Some folks like ’em, but they’re a little too strong for me,” answered the captain. “However, I think the crew will be glad to get it?” and he looked questioningly at the sailor who had helped land the prize.
“Yes, sir,” replied the man, touching his cap. He took the fish to the galley, where the cook prepared it for the men’s dinner. The boys tasted it, but did not care for the flavor.
“Aren’t you going to fish any more?” asked the captain, as he saw Ned coiling up his line, after the fish had been taken away.
“That’s enough for one day,” was the boy’s reply. “The other fellows can, if they like. My wrist is too sore.”