"Good to eat, is it?" asked Jerry, eyeing the forked tail, which, in this fish, resembles that of the Spanish mackerel.
"Fine. Not so good as pompano, but better than bonita," was Joe's verdict.
"All right. He looks good to me," said Bluff. "Do it some more, Jerry. We need a couple more to make good all around."
"Now, talk to me about that, will you! Listen to how the greedy fellow gauges everybody's appetite by his own voracious longings."
But in spite of his talk, Jerry, being a sportsman to his finger-tips, as he was fond of saying, was only too glad to make a second trial.
This time he had hardly half of his line out when there was a sudden vicious jerk.
"Wow! Nearly took a finger off then! Look at the line whizz, will you? Must have struck a whale!" he cried. But, after all, it was another cavalli (sometimes called crevalle), and not much larger than the first.
So the sport went on until he had brought five to the boat, when he gave up.
"Too hard on the fingers, boys. You see, we're spinning along at a lively clip, and a two-pound fish feels like a ton. I'm all in," he explained.
"Well, we want to keep the fish until evening. Will, here, is dying to clean them for us," said Frank.