BY DAWSON STEARNS.
"Talk about catching fish," remarked Walter Clay, in a phlegmatic and yet rather sarcastic style, "it seems to me that Katie has caught one now, if she never did before."
The youth addressed showed that he was more hot-tempered than his companion, as his cheeks flushed and his eyes danced angrily for an instant when the comprehension of his friend's double meaning flashed upon him.
"Oh, stop punning, and look out for that line, quick!" was the sharp reply.
"Better mind your helm, or you'll have your boom gybe, if this lovely fish doesn't gybe it for you, my boy," retorted Walter, as his attention was more closely called to the line he was paying out, as he stood near the weather-bow and watched carefully ahead.
The boys were in a cat-boat of comfortable build, heading toward the mouth of Long Island Sound, close-hauled on the port tack, Brentons Reef Light-ship a mile or more off on the weather-quarter, and a breeze so true and sternly that they felt no uneasiness about getting back to Newport before sundown if they devoted most of the afternoon to sport. The boat was named the Katie, and was owned by the young man at the helm, Harry Main, who had chosen the name and had it painted in neat letters on her stern with the consent of one who did not hesitate to acknowledge the flattery of the compliment. Hence his companion's good-natured play upon it, as well as intimation of the important aspect of the present occasion.
The Katie was a very weatherly craft, as well as a good sailer, and was highly prized by her young owner; in fact, she was a prize. The boat had been built to his special order by one of the most experienced of cat-boat constructors, after many long consultations with his fidus Achates and constant chum Walter, as well as the benefit of professional advice, and the sanction of his father, who footed the bills in redemption of a promise made if Harry attained a certain record at his college examinations. The record had been made through faithful work, the prize had been earned, and the boys were now right heartily enjoying the fruit of their labors in the summer vacation. Little wonder that their good fortune was envied by many, and that their popularity was in no small degree enhanced by the nautical tone acquired through their amateur sailorizing, while their manliness was increased, lung power developed, brains brightened, complexions enriched, and muscles toughened by the glow of such healthful exercise and invigorating pastime.
That morning the boys had started out for bluefish, their boat equipped with outriggers to facilitate the handling of the lines, as is customary; and with reefed sail, to prevent the gaining of too much headway, they were making a fair catch, when a tremendous splashing in the water ahead and rapidly nearing them attracted their attention. It was soon seen that the commotion, whatever it might be due to, was frightening away the fish, and indignation took the place of satisfaction on the part of the fishermen. Watching the disturbance in the water as it drew nearer, the boys could soon make out that it was caused by some monster of the deep, and presently resounding slaps on the surface of the Sound could be plainly distinguished with the creature's tail, making a noise and splashing as though a massive plank were dropped flat side into the water fairly from a height. This was done not only once, but many times, the reports sometimes resembling gun-shots, and indicating that more monsters than one were causing the racket.
"Whales fighting!" suggested Harry.
"No; not big enough; they're closer than you think," said Walter, as he stood with his hand shading his eyes, intently watching them.