ad been stretched like so many
walls of meshes overnight right across the swift waters of the tide,
having been down long enough for the ebb and flow both to pass through
it, with the consequence that, if fish had passed that way, they would
have been pocketed or become netted among the meshes from either side.
But a good deal of the net was dragged into the boat before the
glittering scales of a fish were seen.

"Red mullet!" cried Vince, as he pounced upon two small ones, looking as
if clothed in mother-o'-pearl, speckled and stained with scarlet.

These were taken out and thrown into the locker, with the result that
the lobster flipped its tail and splashed about furiously. But by this
time there was a golden gleam in the net drawn aboard; taking his turn,
Mike dragged out a grotesque-looking, big-headed John Dory, all
golden-green upon its sides, and bearing the two dark marks, as if a
giant finger and thumb had been imprinted upon it. This, too, with its
great eyes staring, and wide mouth gaping feebly, was thrown into the
locker.

Then old Daygo began to growl and mutter: for the meshes showed the
heads only of a fine pair of red mullet, the whole of the bodies having
been eaten away; and a minute later up came the cause, in the shape of a
long, grey, eely-looking fish, which writhed and struggled violently to
get free, but only entangled itself the more tightly.

"Nay, nay! let me come," cried the old man, as he saw the boys whip out
their knives. "I don't want my net cut to pieces; I'll do it myself."

He threw the portion of the net containing the captive on one side in
the bottom of the boat, and hauled in the rest, which contained nothing
but a sickly green, mottled-looking wrasse of about a couple of pounds
weight. Then the lines, cords, and anchors were got on board, and,
leaving the boat to drift with the sharp current which carried it
onward, the old man drew a long, sharp-pointed knife from its sheath,
and cautiously turned over portions of the net.

"Oh, murder!" said Mike.

"Well, how many poor fish has it murdered?" said Vince. "Mind it don't
pike you, Joe!" he shouted.

"I'm a-goin' to, my lad; and you mind, too, when you ketches one.
They'll drive their pike at times right through a thick leather boot;
and the place don't heal kindly afterward. Ha! now I've got you," he
muttered, as, getting one foot well down over the keen spine with which
the fish was armed, and which it was strikin