"Well done, Joe!" cried Bremner, from the doorway above, as a large rock-cod was drawn to the surface of the water.
"Stay, it's too large to pull up with the line. I'll run down and gaff it," cried Ruby, fastening his own line to the beam, and descending to the water by the usual ladder, on one of the main beams. "Now, draw him this way—gently, not too roughly—take time. Ah! that was a miss—he's off; no! Again; now then——"
Another moment, and a goodly cod of about ten pounds weight was wriggling on the iron hook which Ruby handed up to Dumsby, who mounted with his prize in triumph to the kitchen.
From that moment the fish began to "take".
While the men were thus busily engaged, a boat was rowing about in the fog, vainly endeavouring to find the rock.
It was the boat of two fast friends, Jock Swankie and Davy Spink.
These worthies were in a rather exhausted condition, having been rowing almost incessantly from daybreak.
"I tell 'ee what it is," said Swankie; "I'll be hanged if I poo another stroke."
He threw his oar into the boat, and looked sulky.
"It's my belief," said his companion, "that we ought to be near aboot
Denmark be this time."