Rob Harlows Adventures | Page 7

George Manville Fenn
would. But you'd better keep on. Strikes me it won't be fishing weather to-morrow."
Thung went the line, which tightened as if it had been screwed by a peg, and Rob felt a jerk up his arms anything but pleasant to his muscles; while, in spite of his efforts, the line began to run through his fingers as jerk succeeded jerk. But the excitement made him hold on and give out as slowly as he could. The friction, though, was such that to check it he wound his left hand in the stout cord, but only to feel it cut so powerfully into his flesh that during a momentary slackening he gladly got his left hand free, lowered both, so that the line rested on the gunwale of the boat, and, making this take part of the stress, let the fish go.
"Best way to catch them fellows is to have a canoe and a very strong line, so as he can tow you about till he's tired," said Shaddy.
"Is the end quite safe?" panted Rob, whose nerves were throbbing with excitement; and he was wondering that his new friend could be so impassive and cool.
"Yes, quite tight," was the reply, just as all the line had glided out; and as Rob held on he was glad to have the help afforded by the line being made fast to the pin.
"What do you say now, sir?" cried Shaddy.
"Oh, don't talk, pray."
"All right, sir, all right; but he's going it, ain't he? Taking a regular gallop over the bottom, eh?"
"I do hope this hook will hold."
"It will," said Giovanni; "you can't say it's too big now."
"No," said Rob in a husky whisper. "But what is it--a shark?"
"I never heard o' sharks up in these parts," said Shaddy, laughing.
"Or would it be an alligator? It is awfully strong. Look at that."
This was as the prisoner made a furious rush through the water right across the stern.
"Nay; it's no alligator, my lad. If it were I should expect to see him come up to the top and poke out his ugly snout, as if to ask us what game we called this. Precious cunning chaps they are, and as they live by fishing, they'd say it wasn't fair."
"Oh, Shaddy, do hold your tongue!" cried Rob. "I say, Joe, how long will it take to tire him?"
"Don't know," said the lad, laughing. "He's tiring you first."
"Yes; but how are we to get him on board?"
"Hullo, Rob, lad! caught a fish or a tartar?" said a fresh voice, and a bronzed, sturdy man of about seven-and-thirty stepped up behind them, putting on a pith helmet and suppressing a yawn, for he had just risen from his nap under the awning.
"Think it's a Tartar," said Rob between his set teeth.
"Or a whale," said the fresh comer, laughing. "Perhaps we had better cut adrift."
"No, no, sir," cried Rob excitedly. "I must catch him."
"I meant from the schooner, so as to let him tow us if he will take us up stream instead of down."
"No; don't move; don't do anything," cried Rob hoarsely. "I'm so afraid of his breaking away."
"Well, he is doing his best, my lad."
"Getting tired, Mr Brazier," said the Italian lad. "They are very strong."
"They? What is it, then--a fresh-water seal?"
"No; a dorado. I know it by the way it pulls."
"Oh, then, let's have him caught," said Martin Brazier, head of the little expedition up the great Southern river. "I am eager to see the gilded one. Steady, Rob, my lad! Give him time."
"He has had time enough," said Giovanni quickly. "Begin to pull in now, and he will soon be beaten."
Rob began to haul, and drew the fish a couple of yards nearer the boat, but he lost all he had gained directly, for the captive made a frantic dash for liberty, and careered wildly to and fro some minutes longer. Then, as fresh stress was brought to bear, it gradually yielded, stubbornly at first, then more and more, till the line was gathering fast in the bottom of the boat, and a sudden splash and tremendous eddy half a dozen yards away showed that the fish was close to the surface.
Just then the Italian captain's son came close up to Rob, and stood looking over, holding a large hook which he had fetched from the dinghy; but he drew back, and looked in Mr Brazier's face.
"Would you like to hook it in?" he said, "or shall we let him go? It is a very big one, and will splash about."
"Better let me, sir," said Shaddy, drawing his knife. "Keep clear of him, too, for he may bite."
Martin Brazier looked sharply at the man he had engaged for his guide, expecting to see a furtive smile, but Shaddy was perfectly serious, and read his meaning.
"It's all
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