“Haul up, a few fathoms,” said he, raising his rod so as to get his line, as much as possible, out of the action of the water, which was forcing it into a bight. “Now, steer across, Tom, to the opposite side. We must try the strength of the tackle—‘Pull for the half,’ as we say in Ireland.”
The fish had not attempted to run, knowing that its best chance of safety was in the hole in which it lay, but had sunk sulkily to the bottom. No sooner, however, did the boat feel the current on her bow, than she sheered across to the opposite side; and the Captain, stopping his line from running out, drew the salmon by main force from its shelter, who, feeling the strength of the current, for a moment attempted to stem it; but soon, the Captain, adroitly dropping his hand, turned tail and raced away, downward, with the combined velocity of the stream, and its own efforts.
The Captain paused a moment, to make sure that the fish was in earnest, and then cut the rope; and boat, fish, and all, came tumbling down the rapid into the turn-hole below.
Once there, it became an ordinary trial of skill between man and fish—such as always occurs whenever a salmon is hooked in rough water—and that the Captain was well up to. It was impossible for it again to head up the dangerous ground of the rapid, or to face the rush of the waters with the strain of the line upon it; so it raced backwards and forwards, and up and down in the deep pool, while Tom took advantage of every turn to paddle his boat quietly into still water. At last, the Captain succeeded in turning his fish under a projecting tree, upon which the Parson, who, as soon as he had seen the turn matters were likely to take, had shinned up the rope, and hurried to the scene of action, was standing gaff in hand to receive it.
“Well done, all hands!” said the Captain, as the Parson freed his gaff from the back fin of a twenty-pound salmon, and Birger hooked on to the tree, and brought his boat to shore. “Well done, all hands! it was no easy matter to invade such territories as that; but one wants a little additional excitement after such a fishing morning as we have had.”
“I think we may set you down as bene meritus de patriâ,” said the Parson; “it is just as well to have a fresh resource on a bright afternoon like this; the time may come when we may want it.”
“Now, then, for another fish,” said the Captain; “Birger shall try his hand at the rod this time.”
Birger would have excused himself on account of his want of skill, but was very easily persuaded, and, thus they took turns, now securing a fish, now cutting a line against an unseen rock, now losing one by downright hard pulling, till, when the light began to fail, and the dangers to grow more real from the darkness, they made fast their boat to the stump, and returned victorious to the camp, having added three or four fish to their store, and those the finest they had caught that day.[17]