ow grey west; while to
eastward all was blushing with bright red and gold and purple and
orange, tints so wondrously beautiful and rich that Nature had enough to
spare for sea as well as sky. While the latter was growing moment by
moment more refulgent, the former caught the wondrous dyes, till the
water seemed everywhere like molten gold with ruddy and empurpled
reflections where the sea gave a gentle heave. Even the gulls and shags
that floated on the tide seemed to be glorified by the wondrous colour,
till Harry, as he sat there with the stout cord of his fishing-line
twisted round his hand, felt how majestic and awe-inspiring was the
coming of the new-born day, and involuntarily exclaimed:

"Who would stay in bed if they knew what the dawn is like on such a morn
as this!"

So rapt was he in the grandeur of the scene that he had forgotten all
about the object of his journey, but he was brought back to the
matter-of-fact present by a tremendous snatch which jerked his arm
hanging over the side, and made the cord cut so violently into his hand
that he was glad to give the line a twist and set it free to run for
some distance before he began to check it a little.

"It's a monster," he said, as he felt the struggles of the fish, which
dragged so heavily that, to save his line from breaking, as it was, in
spite of giving and taking, nearly run out, he cast the boat loose and
let it drift as the fish tugged.

It was not big enough to drag it along, but it had some influence on the
boat, moving it slowly, and this eased the line, which Harry had hauled
upon, so that he kept getting in fathom after fathom ready for the
captive's next run.

This was not long in coming, for after keeping up a steady strain for
about a minute, and drawing the fish, whatever it might be, nearer and
nearer to the surface, there was a sudden snatch, and away it went again
straight for the bottom like an arrow, and then right away.

"The line will break directly," thought Harry. "It must be either a
great conger or a monster hake, or else it's a small shark. Small!--no,
that it isn't!" he exclaimed as he felt himself steadily drawn along
with the current; "I shall never get it."

Now he was able to haul in a little, the fish coming towards the surface
in obedience to his steady drag; now it turned and went off again to the
last yard of line, and then the boat was steadily drawn along, while
Harry's wonder was that the strands did not br