A few minutes more, and the lines were down, and expectation was breathlessly rampant.
“Hi!” burst from Eddie, at the same moment that “Ho!” slipped from McGregor; but both ceased to haul in on finding that the “tugs” were not repeated.
“Hallo!” yelled “Tonal’,” who fished beside Junkie, on feeling a tug worthy of a whale; and, “Hee! hee!” burst from Junkie, whose mischievous hand had caused the tug when ragged head was not looking.
In the midst of these false alarms Ivor drew up his line, and no one was aware of his success until a fish of full ten pounds’ weight was floundering in the boat. The boys were yet commenting on it noisily, when Ian put a large cod beside it.
“What a tug!” cried Eddie, beginning to haul up in violent haste.
“Hev a care, or the line will pairt,” said McGregor.
At the same moment “Shames” himself gave a jerk, as if he had received an electric shock, and in a few seconds a large plaice and a small crab were added to the “pile!”
“I’ve got something at last,” said Mabberly, doing his best to repress excitement as he hauled in his line deliberately.
The something turned out to be an eel about four feet long, which went about the boat as if it were in its native element, and cost an amazing amount of exertion, whacking, and shouting, to subdue.
But this was nothing to the fish with which Junkie began to struggle immediately after, and which proved to be a real shark, five feet long. After the united efforts of Ian and Donald had drawn it to the surface, Junkie was allowed to strike the gaff into it, and a loud cheer greeted the monster of the deep as it was hurled into the bottom of the boat.