“Nonsense!” cried Dick, laughing. “There, think about something else. There, look, they’re going to use the net.”
To Arthur’s great delight the speed of the smack was checked, and the busy preparations took up his attention, so that the qualm passed off, and he crept to his brother’s side and listened as Josh was explaining the use of the trawl-net, which the men were about to lower over the side.
“There you are, you see,” said Josh; “here’s your net, just like a night-cap with a wide end and a little end, as we calls the bunt. There’s pockets to it as well, only you can’t very well see ’em now. When she’s hauled up with fish in you’ll see ’em better then.”
“And what’s this big piece of wood?”
“Trawl-beam,” said Josh; “thirty-footer, to keep the meshes of the net stretched wide open at the top. Bottom’s free so as to drag over the bottom. And them’s the trawl-irons, to fit on the end of the beam and skate along the sand and keep all down.”
“And the rope’s tied to them?” said Dick.
“Rope?” said Josh. “You mean the bridle. That’s right, my lad, and down she goes.”
Over went the huge, cumbersome apparatus of beam, irons, and net, the weighty irons being so arranged as to take the trawl to the bottom in the right position so that the net with its stout edge rope should scrape over the sand as the cutter sailed.
“There you are,” said the master, coming up; “now, then, away we go. There’s a fine wind this morning, and we shall get some fish.”
“Does the wind make you get the fish?” said Dick.