“Oh, no! you haven’t,” said Josh; “conger eels often do like that. You pull hard; he pulls hard and tries to get to the bottom. You slack the line, and as there’s nobody pulling up, he comes to see what’s the matter. Now, slacken!”
Arthur let the line run.
“Now haul again.”
The boy drew in the line, and gained nearly twice as much as he had let out before there was a tremendous drag again, and as Arthur held on with both hands his arms quivered.
“Ease him a little—now pull—ease again—now pull!” cried Josh, over and over, till, giving and taking like this, Arthur had drawn the heavy lead nearly to the surface of the water, and for a moment he thought the dark little object going here and there was the eel; but directly after he saw a great wavy blue-black line some feet down, and that all at once turned to one that was creamy white, then dark, then light again, as the conger writhed over and over.
“I’ve got one too!” cried Dick; and his attention, like that of Will, was taken from what went on upon the starboard side of the boat, leaving Arthur to the care of Josh.
“Josh!—please,” faltered Arthur, as he clung to the line in an agony of dread, too much alarmed now even to let go. “Josh—pray—pray cut the line!”
“No, no, no! you don’t mean that,” whispered back Josh encouragingly. “You mean get my little axe, and kill my gentleman as soon as he’s aboard.”
“Yes, yes. No, no,” whispered Arthur. “Pray, pray, don’t bring that horrible thing into the boat!”
“Not till he’s dead, you mean,” said Josh, in a low voice, so that Dick and Will could not hear. “You’re not scared of a gashly old conger like that? You hang on to the line, my lad. You’ve got plenty of pluck, only you arn’t used to it. Now, you see, ease him a bit.”