[CHAPTER IV.]
THAT SAME OLD UNLUCKY WIRELESS.
Moving about in the steadiest of the little tenders, with a flare in the bow, and Jimmy to gently push in the stern, Jack sought to strike some game fish. His success was not very flattering, though he certainly did enjoy the experience. It was really worth while to peer down into the shallow depths, and see what lay there.
Several times he caught glimpses of channel bass, sheepshead, or sea trout, which last is only another name for the weak fish of the North; but as a rule they flashed away before he could strike.
He did succeed in spearing one trout of about three pounds, much to Jimmy’s delight. And later on, he struck a nasty creature with what seemed to be a barb on the top of his tail, which he thrust around in a savage manner as Jack held him up on the end of his pole.
“Look out, and don’t get too close to him, Jimmy,” Jack warned.
“Sure now and I won’t,” replied the other, “for, to till the truth, it’s me as don’t like the looks of that little fixin’ on the ind of his tail.”
“It must be what they call a stingaree or stingray,” Jack went on. “I never saw one before, but I’ve read a lot about ’em. They say he can poison you, if ever he hits with that barb. You know what a mudcat can do, out on the Mississippi; well, this is the same thing, only a whole lot worse.”
“Drop the squirmin’ bog-trotter back into the wather, Jack, me bhoy; for ’tis us as don’t want too close an acquaintance with him. He’d make it too warrm for us, by the same token,” Jimmy declared; and Jack complied only too willingly.