A groan from under the blankets was the only reply, and Ben proceeded to use his hook and line as he saw the others do.
It was rare sport, and in his excitement he forgot that he had felt at all sea-sick.
As soon, however, as the "school" had passed, and the last fish had been pulled in, Ben felt some of the disgust returning. There lay the slippery fish scattered over the deck, flapping still, and refusing to die. Beautiful fish they were, banded and mottled with green and blue and purple; but Ben turned away from them with a shudder, which was changed into a groan as the two men began to dress them for packing.
"Want to help, boys?" asked the captain, with a wink at Marcus.
"Not much, captain."
"Ralph, this is going to be horrid," he whispered, as he threw himself down by his friend, and put his head under the blanket with him.
"Going to be? Isn't it already? I hope it won't get any worse," groaned Ralph. "How long do you suppose the voyage will last?"
"Oh, I don't know; how long do you?"
"And where are we going?"
"Sure enough, we didn't ask."