They baited their hooks, and lowering them gently into the water, watched the result. The lump, who was nearest to Charlie’s bait, swam up to it, turned it round, smelt of it, and then moved off in the direction of the other lines.
“He don’t like my bait,” said Charlie; “he’s coming to taste of yours.”
But before the clumsy creature arrived at the spot, two rock cod darted at both baits, and were caught. They now all three baited with lobster, and Fred caught him. An ugly-looking, misshapen thing he was, with a black, dirty skin, like a sculpin, and called, from his lack of proportions, a lump-fish.
“How curious some of these fish do!” said John; “they come up to the bait, and go right away from it, as though they didn’t like it, and then turn right about and snap it up.”
“They do just like some folks at the store, when anybody asks them to take a dram; they say they don’t know as it’s worth while, or as they have any occasion, but they always take it, for all that.”
They had now loaded the canoe as deep as they dared; it was low water and a flat calm; the prospect was, that they would have to row the heavy-laden boat home; in that case they would need the whole of the flood tide to do it with.
“Let’s reel up our lines,” said Charlie; “the tide has turned.”
“Let’s wait a little while, and eat up the rest of our grub; perhaps there will be a southerly wind.”
After reeling up their lines, they amused themselves a while by dropping pieces of bait into the water, and seeing the fish run after it, and try to take it away from each other. While they were eating, they saw a dark streak upon the water, about a mile off.
“There’s the fair wind coming,” said Charlie; “now we’ll just wait for it.”