Chapter Eight.
I had so many things to take up my attention that I forgot all about hearing Jarette and Walters talking together. Perhaps it came to mind once or twice afterwards, but it made no impression then, however much I may have thought about it afterwards. For then I was trying to learn my duties, studying up a little navigation, helping Mr Preddle with his fish that were to stock the New Zealand rivers with trout, and attending to Mr Denning. I suppose it was attending upon him, but to me it was all one jolly time of amusement, during which the poor fellow seemed to forget all about his bad health, and became as interested as a boy with our various bits of sport.
Now in a fast steamer there is not much done, for I suppose that quick rush of the vessel, as it ploughs its way through the sea, startles the fish away to right and left, and then when they might be swimming quietly after the first rush, the tremendous beating up of the water by the whirling screw sends them off again, and makes the water so foamy that they cannot see a bait.
But with a sailing vessel it is different. When there is not much wind, of course she glides along gently, leaving a wake of foam, but the water is not so disturbed; and soon after the weather had settled down, and was day by day growing warmer, so that the awning was rigged up over the poop, and our fishing began.
“Oh yes,” Captain Berriman said, “fish away, sir, and the more fresh fish you catch for us, the better the passengers and crew will like it.”
I was standing by one morning when this was said, and Miss Denning glanced at me and smiled as if she knew what was coming.
“You will let young Dale help me?” said Mr Denning. “Want him?”
“Oh yes.”
“Take him, then. He isn’t much use,” said the captain, laughingly. “I often wonder why the owners have boys on board. Better have young Walters, he’s more of a sailor than this fellow.”