“I’m afraid so,” I replied, as I hauled away till the lead rattled against the ship’s side. Then another haul or two brought the hook over the rail, for the line was not broken, but the stout wire hook had straightened with the weight of the fish, and had been drawn back out of the creature’s jaws.
By this time Walters had pretty well cleared himself from the line tangled about his leg, and he stood looking on and scowling at me in turn as I removed the straightened hook, and put on another from the spare ones with which Jarette had furnished me. This I baited as before and threw over, the line running out rapidly till about the same length was out; and Mr Denning took hold again, the red spots in his cheeks showing how thoroughly he was interested in the sport.
“Better luck to you this time,” said the captain, and he nodded and walked away; but Walters stayed, saying nothing, but leaning against the rail, and looking on in a sulky, ill-used way at me and my every action as I attended on Mr Denning.
“We shall never get to be friends,” I thought. “He always looks as if he was so jealous that he would like to throw me overboard.”
“Shall I fasten the line this time, sir?”
“No, no; not on any account,” said Mr Denning. “It would take away half the excitement, and I get so little in my life. Eh, Lena?”
Miss Denning smiled at him half-pityingly, and his face looked very gentle now as he smiled back at her. Then all his attention was directed to the line where it hit the water.
“You will be ready to help if I hook a big one,” he said to me; “I’m not so strong as I used to be.”
“I’ll catch hold directly you tell me,” I replied; “but perhaps it will be a small one this time.”
I turned to arrange the spare line once more so that it would run out easily, and Miss Denning went closer to her brother, while I became aware now of the fact that Walters was watching me in a sour, sneering way.