“About?” cried Lynton angrily; “why, my bait was taken by either a shark or an alligator. There’s a hundred yards of new line gone. What’s to be done now?”
“You’d better rig up another, I should say,” said the American drily, “and hold on and give out when the fish runs.”
“It’s a rum un,” muttered the mate. “I say, my lad, just keep your head out of my way next time. Are you aware that it’s just about as hard as a cocoanut?”
“Never mind, Lynton,” cried Brace. “Get out another line as soon as you can, while the fish are biting so freely.”
“I don’t know about that. The old man will kick up a row about that line being lost. It was his, and he’ll want to know how it came about that I lost it.”
“Never mind: we brought plenty with us. Look sharp.”