We had the bearings of the line from shore marks, and we knew we
would have no difficulty in locating it. The first of the flood
tide was setting in, when we ran below where we thought the line
was stretched and dropped over a fishing-boat anchor. Keeping a
short rope to the anchor, so that it barely touched the bottom, we
dragged it slowly along until it stuck and the boat fetched up hard
and fast.
"We've got it," Charley cried. "Come on and lend a hand to get it
in."
Together we hove up the rope till the anchor I came in sight with
the sturgeon line caught across one of the flukes. Scores of the
murderous-looking hooks flashed into sight as we cleared the
anchor, and we had just started to run along the line to the end
where we could begin to lift it, when a sharp thud in the boat
startled us. We looked about, but saw nothing and returned to our
work. An instant later there was a similar sharp thud and the
gunwale splintered between Charley's body and mine.
"That's remarkably like a bullet, lad," he said reflectively.
Pages:
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45