These are a specimen or two of the thoughts that ran through Arthur Temple’s brains as he clung desperately to the line with the conger or whatever it was at the end tugging and jerking at it hard enough to make the boy’s shoulders sore.
“Steady! steady!” cried Josh, interfering. “That’s not the way to ketch conger. Give him line, as I showed you afore. There, you see,” he continued, as Arthur slackened the cord. “Eh, ’ullo! Why, what’s up?” he exclaimed. “Here, give me hold.”
Arthur passed the line to him with a sigh of intense relief, and Josh gave way, hauled, and tried three or four different little plans before passing the line back to Arthur.
“Here, you ketch hold,” he cried. “It’s a big one and no mistake. He has got his tail twisted round a bit of rock, or he’s half in a hole, or something. Don’t let him shake you like that, my lad, but give him line when he snatches you. He’s half in a hole as sure as can be, and if we hauled we should only break the line.”
“What are we to do?” said Arthur, his words coming in pants. “Shall we leave the line and go?”
“Leave the line, my lad!” cried Josh. “Well, that arn’t very likely. No, no: lines are too vallerble, and instead of giving the conger the line, we’ll get him aboard.”
“But how? It won’t come,” said Arthur peevishly.
“You must coax him same as I showed you before. Fishers wants patience—waiting for what they catches, undoing tangles in nets and lines, and dealing with conger. Don’t you see, my lad, if you haul so does the conger: he’s frightened, and he fights for his life; but as soon as you leave off hauling, so does he, and begins to uncurve and untwist himself. Then’s your time to haul him out of the rocks, before he has time to anchor himself again.”
It seemed to Arthur as if he had no power to disobey Josh. Shame, too, supported the fisherman, for the boy had a horror of being supposed a coward, so he acted precisely as Josh told him, giving and taking with the line, but for some time without avail, and Arthur piteously asked if it was of any use to go on.
“Use! I should think so,” cried Josh. “Why, he’s a big one, and we’ve got to ketch him. Now haul, my lad, steady.”