“Well done us!” cried Small, as Mark stood gazing down at his prize, a magnificent fish of over forty pounds weight, with brilliant silvery scales double the size of those of a salmon, and all flashing in the morning sunshine.
“What is it?” said Mark.
“Well, I don’t rightly know,” said Small drily. “’Taint a sole.”
“Why, of course not.”
“Nor it arn’t a salmon, you see, cause it’s got all them stickles on its back. Some kind o’ shark, I should say. Look at its teeth.”
“And you’ve been to sea all your life, Small, and don’t know a shark!” cried Mark. “Why, I know that isn’t a shark, or anything of the kind.”
“Yes, because you’ve had books to go at all your life, my boy, while I’ve been knocking about in ships. Man may learn to be a good sailor, but he don’t learn much else aboard ship afore the mast.”
“Never mind,” said Mark; “the question for us to settle is—Is it good to eat?”
“Just you wait till we’ve cooked him over the fire,” said Small, as he extracted the hook from the fierce jaws. “I’ll answer that question then. ’Most anything’s good to eat when you’re half starved, my lad. I’ve knowed men eat their shoes. Going to have another try?”
“Yes, I should like to get some more,” said Mark; and as soon as the captured fish was laid under the thwart he baited and threw out again.