m
like a moving bar of gold. Then a great fish would materialise itself
and hang in the shadow of the boat motionless as a stone, save for the
movement of its gills; next moment with a twist of the tail it would be
gone.

Suddenly the dinghy shored over, and might have capsized, only for the
fact that Dick was sitting on the opposite side to the side from which
the line hung. Then the boat righted; the line slackened, and the
surface of the lagoon, a few fathoms away, boiled as if being stirred
from below by a great silver stick. He had hooked an albicore. He tied
the end of the fishing-line to a scull, undid the line from the thole
pin, and flung the scull overboard.

He did all this with wonderful rapidity, while the line was still
slack. Next moment the scull was rushing over the surface of the
lagoon, now towards the reef, now towards the shore, now flat, now end
up. Now it would be jerked under the surface entirely; vanish for a
moment, and then reappear. It was a most astonishing thing to watch,
for the scull seemed alive--viciously alive, and imbued with some
destructive purpose; as, in fact, it was. The most venomous of living
things, and the most intelligent could not have fought the great fish
better.

The albicore would make a frantic dash down the lagoon, hoping,
perhaps, to find in the open sea a release from his foe. Then, half
drowned with the pull of the scull, he would pause, dart from side to
side in perplexity, and then make an equally frantic dash up the
lagoon, to be checked in the same manner. Seeking the deepest depths,
he would sink the scull a few fathoms; and once he sought the air,
leaping into the sunlight like a crescent of silver, whilst the splash
of him as he fell echoed amidst the trees bordering the lagoon. An hour
passed before the great fish showed signs of weakening.

The struggle had taken place up to this close to the shore, but now the
scull swam out into the broad sheet of sunlit water, and slowly began
to describe large circles rippling up the peaceful blue into flashing
wavelets. It was a melancholy sight to watch, for the great fish had
made a good fight, and one could see him, through the eye of
imagination, beaten, half drowned, dazed, and moving as is the fashion
of dazed things in a circle.

Dick, working the remaining oar at the stern of the boat, rowed out and
seized the floating scull, bringing it on board. Foot by foot he hauled
his catch towards the boat till t