“I say, though, Mr Pollard,” said Dick.
“Cap’n Pollard, if you wouldn’t mind, young gentleman,” said the great bluff Cornishman, smiling at Dick.
“Captain Pollard,” said Dick, “do these sharks ever attack a man or a boy when bathing?”
“Never heerd o’ such a thing,” said the captain; “but the mischief they do to a fisherman’s craft, sir, is something terrible—lines, nets, fish—they destroy everything. Like to take the shark home with you, sir?”
“No, thank you!” cried Mr Temple, shaking his head; “no sharks, thank you!”
“You’re welcome, if you like, sir,” said the captain; “but if you don’t care for her, I’ll send her to London to my salesman, and he’ll show her as a cur’osity.”
“Eight feet long exactly,” said Mr Temple, who had been measuring it.
“Be she, though?” said the captain, “well, it be eight foot o’ mischief well put out of the way, and that’s a good day’s work.”
They stopped looking at the long thin shark for some minutes, Dick thinking that it was not so very much unlike a dog-fish after all, and then they turned back to the net, which was being rapidly emptied, the mackerel that were left being quickly counted out into baskets and tied down, those obtained now forming what Dick would have considered quite a good take.
But there were plenty of other fish, though none were very small, the size of the meshes being sufficiently large to allow of their escape. There was one more large hake, and quite a little shoal of red bream, chad, as Will called them. Several dog-fish were there too, and some more squid. The fish, however, that most took the attention of the boys now were about a score of red mullet, and half as many more of the grey, very different fish, though, the one being as gorgeous in its scarlet tints as the other was plain, silvery, and grey.