CHAPTER X.
ONE NIGHT'S SPORT.
"NOW just imagine that we are really hunting fish," Charley directed,as he shoved his skiff from shore. "Take up your positions exactly as Idirected and make as little noise as possible with your oars."
His companions eagerly obeyed and the three skiffs slowly crept aheadas if stealing up on a school of fish.
But their leader was not yet ready for real fishing and they hadproceeded thus but a little ways when he gave the captain the signalfor a run. The old sailor deftly backed up his skiff and threw Charleythe end of his net. The lad caught it and quickly made it fast to hisown. "Give way," he shouted, seizing his oars, and the three boatsdarted away while the nets ran out smoothly over their sterns.
When he judged that three-fourths of his net was out, Charley shoutedto his chums and the two boats swung around for each other. The lastof Walter's net ran out just as Charley passed around the stern ofhis skiff and turning back into the circle rowed out the few remainingyards of his own net.
"That's one important thing to remember," he commented as he rowedup to his chum's boat. "We always want to turn when we have got justenough net left to reach each other with. If our nets don't cometogether the fish all run out through the gap."
"Whew," Walter panted, "I never dreamed those nets were so long. Ithought my arms were going to break from rowing so hard before you gavethe signal to turn."
Charley grinned. "They are four hundred yards each--nearly a quarter ofa mile long. Wait until you get one full of fish and it will seem fortymiles long. The captain's got that other end closed up nicely, and nowfor the drumming up."
The three rowed around inside the circle while Charley showed them howto frighten the fish into the nets by pounding on the bottoms of theskiffs and beating the water with the blades of their oars.
"Why, the circle is full of fish," Walter suddenly exclaimed. "I cansee hundreds of them darting about."
"I saw them before I gave the signal to run," Charlie said coolly, buthis words were lost in the din the captain and his chum were makingin their excitement. Walter was beating the water frantically withhis oar while the old sailor standing up in his skiff was clapping hishands and shouting "Shoo, shoo", much as though he was driving a flockof chickens.
Charley rested on his oars and watched them with a broad grin on hisface.
"Don't get excited," he remarked, when at last they stopped from sheerexhaustion. "Captain, it's no use straining your voice yelling atthe fish. They can't hear you. The only thing that scares them is avibration of the water they live in. That beating the water with youroar is the proper caper, Walter, only it happens that these fish aremullet and you can't drive mullet into a gill net in the day time. Fineas the twine is, they see the meshes and back off. And, now, let's rowback to the ends of our nets and pick them up."
His two crestfallen companions meekly obeyed, and after considerableblundering due to their inexperience the nets were once more got aboardthe skiffs.
The two novices' arms and backs were beginning to ache but Charleyinsisted on another trial.
It was well he did so for Walter had not rowed out a third of his netwhen some leads caught in the webbing and the pile turned over into atangled heap that took the three a good half hour to straighten out.
"You must be careful how you pile your net in the boat," Charleycautioned, when the mess was at last straightened out. "If that hadhappened when we were really and truly fishing it might have meantthe loss of forty or fifty dollars' worth of fish. You must keep yourloose webbing piled clear of your lead and cork lines. I noticed youhad piled your net carelessly, that's why I wanted to make another run.There's nothing like experience to make one careful."
"You might have told me about it and saved all this hard extra work,"grumbled Walter with a flash of temper. "My arms and back ache like atooth ache."
"Cheer up. We'll go ashore now, and have a rest and supper before westart out for real work," said Charley, cheerfully, ignoring his chum'sremarks.
A long rest under the palm trees and one of Chris' capital suppers putWalter into good humor again. "I guess, I got mad a little too easily,"he half apologized to his chum over the meal. "I didn't stop to thinkthat you had been working as hard as I and that you would not have putus all to that extra work if you had not thought it necessary."
"That's all right," answered Charley, heartily. "Just forget it. Everyone gets a little riled sometimes, and fishing is mighty hard on thetemper." But the lad knew that the flashes of temper would come manytimes before his chum became a seasoned fisherman. "Oh, well," heconsoled himself, grimly, "it's no use trying to avoid them, the soonerthey come and go, why, the better."
Chris had prepared a lunch for the fishermen to carry with them to eatduring the night, and just as the sun went down, the three boarded thelaunch and with the three skiffs in tow set out for their first attemptin their new calling.
The memory of that first night will linger in Walter's and theCaptain's memory for years to come. They had run about two miles in thelaunch when Charley shut off the engine.
"I think we had better anchor here and take to the skiffs," he said."These are strange waters and we might pile the launch up on a rock inthe darkness."
A lantern was lit and placed on the launch's bow to guide them back toher, and the other lanterns were also lit, turned down low and placedin the bottom of the skiffs.
"None of you must ever allow your lights to show while we are huntingfish," Charley continued. "A light frightens them worse than anythingelse. A flash of lightning makes them all scurry for deep water.There's no use taking to the skiffs for a little while, it isn't darkenough to fish yet."
"That's one thing which puzzles me," Walter said. "How are you going tofind fish at night. Of course, I understand how you can tell where theyare in the day time, for if you can't see the fish themselves, you cantell they are there by the ripples they make in the water."
"They are oftentimes easier to find at night," Charley affirmed. "Thereis nearly always more or less phosphorescence in the water and a fishcan not move without leaving a glowing streak in his wake, that is, ifhe is within ten feet of the surface. An expert fisherman can tell bythe character of the bright streak the kind of fish that makes it. Eachspecies makes a different kind of movement and an expert can read theirtrails like a hunter reads tracks. Nights when the water does not fireit is harder, for then the fisherman has to go by sound. Each kind offish makes its own peculiar noise but it is hard to distinguish some ofthem apart and still harder to tell their size. Our nets are made formullet and that is the only kind of fish we need be concerned with."
"Why, there is a lot more to fishing than I thought," Walter commented."I supposed it was simple and easy to learn."
"It takes years of experience to make a skilful fisherman," Charleyassured him. "I do not claim to be one. I only just know the rudimentsof it."
"I reckon it's that way with most everything," Captain Westfieldremarked, thoughtfully, "from running a ship up to running a nation.Thar's always a heap more to larn than the man outside thinks thar is."
"But all the knowledge a man can get does not help without plenty ofgood hard work," Charley amended. "And it's time for us to begin oursnow. It's dark enough now, I believe. All aboard for our first attempt."
The three scrambled into their skiffs and casting loose from thelaunch, took to their oars bringing their crafts into the formationthey had practiced.
In a few minutes, the launch was lost to sight and they could not seeeach other. Only the faint glow of the turned-down lanterns risingabove the gunwales of their skiffs enabled them to keep track of eachother.
As they crept slowly on into the night, Walter was surprised to see howteeming the waters were with life. On every side of his boat, fierystreaks marked the passage of finny creatures. At times, he passedthrough spaces fairly aglow with the movements of them. As Charleyhad said, there was a marked difference in the character of the watertrails. Som
e were close to the surface, while others showed deep below.Some were long and continuous in a straight line. Others twisted andturned, while still others seemed to run only a little ways and thenstopped suddenly. But they all marked the passage of fish, and he soonbegan to wonder why Charley did not give the signal to circle them. Atfirst, he consoled himself with the thought that his chum knew whathe was doing, but as they rowed steadily on mile after mile throughthe flashing schools, he began to have doubts. After all, Charley hadadmitted that he was not an experienced fisherman. Perhaps Charleywas not passing through the same schools. Perhaps he was not watchingclose. Walter's arms and back began to ache from the steady rowing andas his fatigue increased he began to get irritated. Why all this steadyrowing on and on when there were plenty of fish all about them. Thesame thoughts were passing through Captain Westfield's mind but he hadbeen bred in a calling which demands constant patient obedience to theone in command. He had elected to follow Charley's leadership and thatwas the end of it. He would do it without question.
At last Walter could stand it no longer.
"Say, Charley," he hailed, "there's lots of fish around here."
"I see them," came the cheerful answer. "They don't look right to me,though. Let's go on a bit."
Sullenly, Walter rowed on in silence. After what to his tired musclesseemed ages of weary pulling, a crisp order came floating over thewater.
"Get ready--Drop your net weight over"--A pause, then: "All right--alltogether--pull hard."
Walter forgot his aching limbs in the excitement of the moment. He bentto his oars and sent his skiff flying through the water while his netrippled swiftly out over the stern.
"Come together," at last came the order and he swung his flying craftaround to meet his chum's.
"Gee," panted Charley, as he crossed the end of Walter's net, just asthe last of his own ran out. "I pulled myself out of breath trying toget around that school. Most of them outran me, but I guess we have gota few penned up in the circle. Put up your lantern and let's rest a bitbefore we drum up. Good," he exclaimed as the lights flashed out overthe water. "They are hitting the nets already---Listen."
From all sides of them came a soft peculiar smacking sound much likethat made by a person opening and closing his mouth rapidly.
"Listen, old chap," Charley cried in glee, "you are hearing your firstcatch of mullet."
The Boy Chums Cruising in Florida Waters Page 10