“It’s all right, sir; they do bite, and bite sharply, too. Give us the hook, youngster.”
He took the hook the young Italian handed, and as Rob dragged the fish, which still plunged fiercely, nearer the side, he leaned over, and after the line had been given twice and hauled in again, there was a gleam of orange and gold, then a flash as the captive turned upon its side, and before it could give another beat with its powerful caudal fin, Shaddy deftly thrust the big hook in one of its gills, and the next moment the dorado was dragged over the gunwale to lay for a moment in the bright sunshine a mass of dazzling orange and gold, apparently astonished or half stunned. The next it was beating the bottom heavily with its tail, leaping up from side to side and taking possession of the stern of the boat, till a sharp tug of the hook brought its head round, and a thrust from Shaddy’s knife rendered the fierce creature partially helpless.
Rob’s arms ached, and his hands were sore, but he forgot everything in the contemplation of the magnificent fish he had captured. For as it lay there now, feebly opening and closing its gills, it was wonderfully like an ordinary gold-fish of enormous size, the orange-and-gold scale armour in which it was clad being so gorgeous that, in spite of his triumph in the capture, Rob could not help exclaiming,—
“What a pity to have killed it!”
“There are plenty more,” said Joe, smiling.
“Yes, but it is so beautiful,” said Rob regretfully.
“Yet we should not have seen its beauty,” said Brazier, “if we had not caught it.” And he bent down to examine the fish more closely.
“Mind your eye, sir,” shouted Shaddy.
“You mean my finger, I suppose,” said Brazier, snatching back his hand.