“So they have, sir; but you see here, I catches and kills a conger, or a pollack, or a gurnet, or a bass. Suppose I hadn’t killed it—what then?”
“Why, it would be swimming about in the sea as happy as could be.”
“Yes, Master Dick, sir; but what else would it be doing?”
“Basking in the sunshine, Josh.”
“P’r’aps so, sir; but, a mussy me! he’d be chasing and hunting and eating hundreds of little fish every day; so you see if I catches one big one, I saves hundreds of little ones’ lives.”
“I never thought of that,” said Dick.
“Josh and I have often talked about it,” said Will seriously. “It seems cruel to catch and kill things; but they are always catching and killing others, and every bird and fish you see here is as cruel as can be. There goes a cormorant; he’ll be swimming and diving all day long catching fish, so will the shags; and all those beautiful grey-and-white gulls you can see on the rock there, live upon the fish they catch on the surface of the water.”
“Then if we keep the congers from catching and killing other fishes and eating them, why, it’s being very kind, and isn’t cruel at all,” said Dick merrily; and then he sent a cold chill down his brother’s spine by saying, “Let’s look sharp and catch all the big ones we can.”
“Now, you two take a rest,” said Josh, “and I’ll put her along a bit;” and changing places with the rowers, Josh handled the oars with such effect that in about half an hour they were approaching a tall mass of rock that had seemed at a distance to be part of the cliff-line, but which the visitors could now see to be quite a quarter of a mile from where the waves were beating the shore.