“Yes,” said Fitz; “that’s right. Ah, there comes the end of the cable. It’s nice and soft to handle.”
“Yes,” said Poole, “and needn’t make any noise.”
The lads sauntered up to where the men were at work, three of them lowering down the gig, while the carpenter and boatswain were bringing up the cable out of the tier, the former on deck, the boatswain down below.
“So you’re going to have a night’s fishing, my lad?” said the carpenter. “Well, you’ll find this ’ere a splendid line. But what about a hook?”
“Oh, we shan’t want that yet, Chips,” said Poole coolly.
“Nay, I know that, my lad; but you’ve got to think about it all the same, and you’ll want a pretty tidy one for a line like this. I didn’t know the fish run so big along this coast. Any one would think you’d got whales in your heads. I never ’eard, though, as there was any harpoons on board.”
“Oh no, we are not going whale-fishing,” said Poole quietly.
“What’s it to be then, sir? Bottom fishing or top?”
“Top,” said Poole.
“Then you’ll be wanting me to make you a float. What’s it to be? One of them big water-barrels with the topsail-yard run through? And you’ll want a sinker. And what about a bait?”