Jack became enthusiastic immediately and quickly began a search under the stern seat. In a moment he resurrected a dilapidated market basket half full of coils of line, fish hooks, jigs, and a double handful of clams.
“Fine!” exclaimed Ray, surveying the outfit. “We’ll have fresh fish for supper all right. Here, Jack, break open one of those clams and cut out a chunk of the tough part. There, that’s it. Now hook it onto that jig; just double it over the hook so, it doesn’t make any difference whether you have the point covered or not. Now throw it over the stern, and let out about sixty feet of line while I row. You’ll feel ’em take hold in a minute; they’re coming this way.”
Ray bent to the oars again and started the boat toward the flock of gulls that were flying close to the surface and diving in and out of the water, squeaking and calling at a furious rate. Jack had hardly got the jig overboard before the dory was among the fish. They were big fellows, according to Jack’s way of thinking, but Ray said that they were only young pollock. But Jack had no time to argue the matter, for the next second something struck his jig savagely and the heavy line shot through his fingers and scorched a blister on the flesh before the fish let go.
“Oh—wow,” howled Jack, shaking his hand.
“Ho, ho, that was funny,” laughed Ray. “Loop the line around your hand next time Jack, and snub him good. Then keep hauling in as hard as you can, or you’ll lose him.”
Jack hooked another piece of clam onto the jig and tossed it astern, and the moment he had the line looped about his hand came another savage jerk— Zipp-pp hissed the line through the water, but Jack snubbed back and started to haul away hand over hand, the fish thrashing from side to side and even jumping clear of the water in his mad effort to tear free.
“Wow, what a corker,” cried Jack, as he swung the struggling thing into the dory.
“Oh, he isn’t so big,” said Ray. “Pollock grow sixty and seventy pounds and I’ve seen ’em even bigger than that. That’s only a young one you caught. Weighs about five pounds, I guess. This is a school of little ones, I tell you. Try again.”
Jack hove the jig again and for the next fifteen minutes he was busy as could be hauling in the big silvery fish. They bit ravenously and before he knew it he had caught at least a score. Finally his fingers became so blistered and chafed that he simply had to quit.
“Here,” he said, “you take the line, Ray. I’m through.”