“They’re after the brill,” said Will.
“Brill!”
“Yes; the small fish that the mackerel are feeding on. They keep snatching them up from the top of the water. Little fish about half as big as sprats. Look at them, you can almost see the little fish they catch. There, that fellow has got a good one.”
And so they watched the evolutions of the gulls for a few minutes, till Josh called out “Avast!” and Dick turned, to find that they were back at the first buoy.
“Now, then, are you ready?” said Will.
“Yes,” cried Dick.
“Take Josh’s gaff then, and you shall hook in the first big one.”
Will’s sleeves were rolled up above the elbow, and the line was drawn up over the boat, which was so placed that the line was across it, Josh helping with one oar, while Will hauled at the line, drawing it up one side and letting it go down again on the other.
First bait untouched, and passed on to descend on the other side. Second bait gone, and replaced by a fresh piece of squid from the basket. Third bait gone, and replaced, to descend on the other side. Then four baits untouched, six more gone, taken off.
“Why, if you’d been ready to strike, you might have had all these fish when they began to bite,” cried Dick.