"Yes, sir; pull away, and you will see her in a minute."
After much tugging, for the fish was not at all "gamey," he hauled up the strangest looking fish he had ever seen, though Bobtail and Monkey were entirely familiar with the specimen. The hook, drawing upon his mouth, so distended it, that its appearance was not unlike the face of an old woman with a cap on. The fish was a large scate, not less than three feet across the back. The gentlemen had never seen one before, and he was hauled upon the deck to enable them to examine him.
Half an hour's fishing satisfied the passengers, as there was a tub full of cod and haddock to show for their success. After the gentlemen had fully satisfied their curiosity, the scate was thrown overboard. The anchor was weighed, the jib hoisted, and the Skylark continued on her voyage to Belfast. Monkey dressed a couple of the nicest cod, and then washed down the deck. The Darwinian was then required to take the helm, and Bobtail, sacrificing his dignity as the skipper of the craft, went below and assumed the duties of cook and steward. He pared and sliced a large quantity of potatoes, for Mr. Jones had declared that he was already as hungry as a bear. These he fried, and put them in the oven to keep them hot. The fish was cooked, and coffee made. The table had been set at odd moments, and in less than an hour dinner was ready. Bobtail was invited to dine with the passengers, and he was warmly commended for his culinary skill.
"That's the best dinner I've eaten in the State of Maine," said Mr. Jones, with enthusiasm.
"We can get up a pretty good dinner on board of the Skylark," added the proud skipper. "The cook isn't much on puddings and pies, but on the heavy grub he can do as well as the next man."
"I've drank worse coffee than yours at a first-class hotel in New York," said Mr. Howe.
"I can give you a chowder for supper, if you like," added the cook.
"I like the fried fish best."
"Perhaps we can give you something different."
The skipper and the passengers went on deck. Bobtail relieved the crew at the helm, and sent him below to eat his dinner, and clear away the dishes. The gentlemen lighted their cigars, and declared that they felt perfectly happy. The Skylark was now going up Belfast Bay, close-hauled, but still laying her course.