“Bang ’em ’bout a bit in the water, Master Richard, sir,” cried Josh. “He didn’t half give it ’em; p’r’aps neither of the others arn’t made their cloud.”
Instructed by Will, Dick splashed the net down in the water, with the result that it became discoloured with a black cloud, another of these curious looking creatures not having discharged its ink.
“Penanink fish, we calls ’em,” said Josh laughing, and turning away his face, for he could not help enjoying the disgust shown by Arthur.
“Make capital bait, Master Richard,” said Will, carefully storing the squid away in the locker of the boat.
“Here’s some cuttle for you too,” shouted Pollard; and this time a couple of cuttle-fish were passed on; but before they reached the boat, taught by experience, Arthur carefully got behind his father, making him a shield against the inky shower which did not come.
As soon as it was safe he emerged, though, and eagerly stood looking on as Dick and his father examined the curious creatures, which looked like soft bags, with so many sucker-covered arms hanging out all ready to seize upon the first hapless fish that came their way, and drag them to their mouths.
“What! is that its mouth?” cried Arthur. “It looks just like a parrot’s beak.”
It was a good comparison, for there is great similarity between them.
The short tentacles and the two longer ones, with which the cuttle is provided, were duly examined, and then they, murderers as they were of all things that came to their net, were condemned to be eaten in turn.
“Which is only fair, is it, father?” said Dick laughing.