“Plenty, sir,” said the captain. “I dare say if you go forward you’ll see them beginning to skip out of the water, startled by the yacht. Seen any yet, Mr Jack?”
“Not yet,” was the reply.
“Yes,” said the doctor, “I think that’s what it is. They chase the flying fish, and this fellow must have taken your long spoon-bait for one of them. Don’t you think so, Bartlett?”
“Yes, sir, you are right; but without exaggeration I never saw so fine a one as this. Why,” he continued, clasping his hands round the thin part near the tail and raising the fish for a few moments before letting it fall back on the white boards, “it is very little short of forty pounds.”
“It must be quite that,” cried the doctor. “Well, it’s always the way, the new beginner catches the biggest fish. I should have liked to hook that fellow. Did he pull much, Jack?”
“Dreadfully. My arms feel strained by the jerks it gave.”
“I congratulate you, my boy,” said Sir John. “It is a beauty.”
Then the captain spoke:
“When you’ve done admiring it, gentlemen, there is some one else would like to have a word. I mean the cook. This fellow is fresh now, but they go off at a tremendous rate, and it will be worthless in a few hours. Pass the word there for the cook.”
The word was passed, and the worthy in question came up smiling.