“Oh no!” cried Dick, leaping aboard; and then actively lowering himself into the lugger’s boat, a short, broad, heavy affair, wherein sat Josh, with the long-line and box of bait.
“You sit down there—aft,” said Josh, “and we’ll soon row you out.”
“Is it far?” cried Dick.
“’Bout three mile,” replied Josh, taking up an oar and pushing the boat away from the side of the lugger, Will following his example, and getting an oar over the side.
“Stop! Look, look, look!” cried Dick, pointing out in front of them, where, through the water, there about eighteen inches deep, he could see what seemed to be a long white worm or serpent dashing here and there in a curious way. “There’s another and another!”
“That’s only the cleanings of the fish,” said Will; “intestines, don’t you call ’em? That’s a shoal of small fish come into the harbour, only they’re so clear you can’t make ’em out; and first one lays hold of one end and runs off with it, and then another. Looks just like little snakes darting about, don’t it?”
“Why, so it is,” said Dick. “I can see the little rascals swimming about, and drawing the long white strings after them. Oh, I say, I wish Taff were here!”
“Look there!” said Will, eager to show the stranger all the peculiarities of the place; “do you see that?”
He was pointing to a shallow part, close inshore, just after they had left the harbour, where a drain ran down, and the smooth black water-polished rock was veined with white spar.
“I can see something shadowy-like in the water. Why, there was a fish went over that white place—two—three—there’s a whole shoal of them!”