“Oh! not yet awhile,” said Will smiling.
“But the fish will get out again.”
“Oh no! We’re going too fast for that,” said Will; “and if there are any fish they’ll be in the pockets.”
“But has a trawl-net got pockets?” said Arthur curiously.
“Oh yes!” said Dick grinning; “two in its trousers, two in its waistcoat, and one in its jacket.”
“Don’t you mind what he says, Master Arthur,” said Will smiling. “The pockets are on each side of the net, where it is sewed up a little, so that if the fish, when once in, try to swim towards the mouth they go instead into some of those sewed-up corners and get no farther. There, you see now, we’re going on the other tack so as to sweep back over nearly the same ground again. There are rocks if we go any farther this way.”
As he spoke the course of the smack was altered, and the side that had been so low down that at times it was almost possible to touch the water was high up and the other lower down, and the smack rushed through the water, as it seemed, faster than ever.
“She can sail, can’t she, young gentlemen?” said the master. “We call her the Foam, and she can make foam too. Well, are you ready for the haul?”
“Yes. Are you going to begin?” cried Dick excitedly.
“Soon, my lad, soon,” said the master. “Have you got a basket?”