“I thought it would be there,” said he. “Now if you can only cast one end of that line ashore, I will catch it and the boat will be alongside the landing-place in a few minutes. Can you throw?”
She was silent. She examined the hooks on the whale-bone cross-cast.
He laughed again, for he perceived that she was reluctant to boast of the possession of a skill which was denied to all womankind.
“I’ll explain to you what you must do,” he said. “Cut away the cast of hooks.”
“But I have no knife.”
“Then I’ll throw mine into the bottom of your boat. Look out.”
Being a man, he was able to make the knife alight within reasonable distance of the spot at which he aimed. He saw her face brighten as she picked up the implement and, opening it, quickly cut away the cast of hooks.
“Now make fast the leaden sinker to the end of the fishing line, unwind it all from the frame, and then whirl the weight round and sling it ashore—anywhere ashore.”
She followed his instructions implicitly, and the leaden weight fled through the air, with the sound of a shell from a mortar.
“Well thrown!” he cried, as it soared above his head; and it was well thrown—so well that it carried overboard every inch of the line and the frame to which it was attached.