“Yes,” said Jack eagerly, “let’s get up the lines. Hi, Mr Bartlett, come on.”
The mate had taken the captain’s place, and was superintending the lowering of the studding-sails.
“Yes, all right, Bartlett,” cried the captain, “I’ll see to that;” and giving the lad a friendly nod, he went forward, the mate coming aft.
“Look! Fish!” cried Jack. “What had we better do, Mr Bartlett?”
“Yes; send out some light lines floating in the current,” said the doctor.
“No, I don’t think we should do much that way. More likely to get something from close in under the bows with the grains,” replied the mate thoughtfully. “But what I should do would be to lower a boat and gently scull her toward one of those shoals; we might do something then.”
“That’s the way,” cried Jack. “Here, hi! Lenny, we want you.”
The big black-bearded fellow looked inquiringly at the captain, who nodded, and the man came aft, while Jack and the doctor went below, the former in a hurry, the latter with a good deal of deliberation. The mate and the man then proceeded to lower the light gig and cast off the falls, leaving her hanging by the painter.
“Strong tackle and bright artificial baits, Jack, my lad. The water’s wonderfully clear.”
These were selected from the ample store, and carried up to the boat, into which a basket, a bucket, and a big stone bottle covered with a felt jacket, and full of fresh water, were lowered.