“I’m just as glad,” exclaimed Tom, whose arms, bronzed and muscular, were nevertheless beginning to feel the novel exercise. “My arms and wrists ache, and I know I’ll never be able to stand up straight again. My back is bent, and frozen that way, with leaning over this rail.”
Suddenly, after a quarter of an hour more, the fish began making little leaps half out of water, breaking the surface with little splashings and whirls.
“They’ll be gone now,” said Harvey. “Some bigger fish are chasing them. That’s what makes them act that way.”
This seemed to be true, for presently the water that, a moment before, had been alive with the darting fish, became still and deserted. They took one or two more, by letting their baits sink deep in the water, but the big catch was ended.
“It’s pretty near a record for hand-line fishing in a single morning around here, I guess,” said Harvey. “How many do you think we’ve caught, Henry?”
“Nearly five hundred, I should say,” answered Henry Burns.
“More than that, I’ll bet,” exclaimed his enthusiastic comrade. And for once, at least, Harvey was nearer correct than Henry Burns; for, when they had counted them, some hours later, there were five hundred, and eighteen more, in the Viking’s catch; and as for the crew of the Surprise, they were only fifty below this figure.
“Oh, but I’m hungry!” exclaimed Bob, dropping on to the seat. “And, say, it’s somebody’s else turn to cook breakfast.”
“I’ll do it,” said Tom.
“Well, you go ahead,” said Henry Burns, “and the rest of us will stow these fish down below, out of the sun.”