“I’ll—I’ll try not to be,” whispered Arthur, drawing a long breath.
“Then you won’t be,” whispered Josh. “That’s the way: in with the lead. Of course they’re awk’ard things for any boy to tackle at first. I was downright frightened first one I hooked, when I was ’bout as old as you, and it warn’t above half the size of the one you ketched.”
“Were you really frightened of it?” said Arthur in the same low tone.
“Frightened, Master Taffarthur! Why, my cap come off and fell in the water, and I had to up with the killick and row after it.”
“But that didn’t show you were frightened.”
“Didn’t it though, sir? Why, it was my hair rose up in such a gashly way it lifted it off. There, now, hold steady, and it won’t be long before you have a bite.”
It was getting so dark now that Arthur could not see whether Josh was laughing at him or not, though for the matter of that, if it had been noontide, he would not have been able to make out the rough fisherman’s thoughts by the expression of his countenance.
A splash from behind them told them that Dick’s bait had just gone in, and then they sat—both couples—chatting away in a low tone, and waiting for the next congers, and somehow waiting in vain. The last glow faded out of the sky, and the stars twinkled in the sea, where they were reflected from above. The great black bird rock stood up, looking gigantic against the western sky, and every now and then there was a querulous cry that set a party of the sea-birds scolding and squealing for a few minutes before all was still again.
In the distance across the bay the lights of the harbour shone out faintly at first, then clearly, and the various lamps about the village seemed like dull stars.
Still there was no bite, and Arthur rejoiced in his heart, hoping that they would catch no more, and thinking how horrible it would have been to have one of the monsters on board in the dark.