“Yes.”
“Then off we go again,” said Bostock, and once more the lead went flying in a low curve over the glistening water, to fall with a gentle splash.
There was a wave raised in the shallow directly, and in less time than before, and ere the bait could have reached the bottom, it was seized and the line ran out, to give Carey’s arm a heavy jerk and elicit a cry of pain.
“Hurt you much, my lad?” cried Bostock, as he made a snatch and caught the line.
“Yes, rather,” said the lad. “You’re right, Bob; I’m not quite strong there yet.”
“No wonder it gave you a nip, sir,” cried the man, excitedly. “This is a regular rampayger. My word! look at him; he’s going all over the place.”
“Let the line run,” cried Carey, excitedly, and quite forgetting the pain.
“Nay, he aren’t a whale, sir; but from the games he’s playing he might be a shark four or five foot long. I’ll tire him out though. I say, sir, you ought to be glad you aren’t got hold; line reg’larly cuts into my hand. Look at that now. I say, sir, we shan’t want for something on the table. Strikes me there hasn’t been anyone fishing here lately.”
There was a grim smile on the old sailor’s face, as he stood there easing the line a little, as the fish darted here and there in the most vigorous way, and would have broken free had not the sailor’s arms acted like yielding springs.
The playing of that fish lasted what seemed to be five minutes, and its darts and rushes were as vigorous as ever when all of a sudden it gathered up its forces and made a rush into shallow water amongst the coral, some of which bristled above the surface. Then they had a good sight of its size and gleaming golden scales, for it leaped a good two feet out of the water, came down with a heavy splash and jerk, and the next minute Bostock was hauling in what was left of the line, fully half, with lead and hook, having been borne away.