“Little end’s disgorger,” said Josh; “t’other’s to knock the congers down with.”
“To knock the congers down!” cried Arthur aghast.
“Yes, when we get hold of a big one. They’re gashly strong, sir.”
“Why, how big are they?” cried Arthur.
“Five foot, six foot, seven foot sometimes,” said Josh coolly.
Arthur’s first thought was to say, “Here, take me back;” but he caught his brother’s eye, and suppressed the words.
“I—I did not know they were so big as that,” he faltered, though he tried to say it with firmness and a show of resolve.
“They run big, sir, off our coast, and we get some gashly fellows, often,” said Josh innocently; “but you see, big as they are, men’s stronger, and boys too. Why, our Will would tackle any conger as ever swam about a rock. Takes hold of disgorger like this, you know, and gives one on the head, and that quiets ’em while we get the hook out.”
“With—with the disgorger?” said Arthur.
“That’s it, Master Taff,” said Josh.