As the halibut was lifted from the water and laid flapping on deck it seemed to say, “Well, this is what I call a mean trick! We heard you fellows were bound for Iceland, and--” There was no need to finish the remark, for before this point was reached old Mateo, with a howl of dismay, had darted forward and vanished in the forecastle, while Nimbus, with a yell of affright, had rolled aft and sought the safety of the cabin. Then how those fishermen did roar with laughter, and stamp on the deck with their heavy boots, and slap Breeze on the back in token of their appreciation of his talent and its successful application! From that time forward he was obliged to exercise it frequently for the benefit of his shipmates; but it was long before Nimbus thoroughly understood it, or could be persuaded that the mysterious voices that seemed to come from all parts of the schooner were not produced by some invisible being. The readiness with which this first halibut had taken the hook determined Captain Coffin to make at least one set of the trawls at that point. It was to be a “set under sail.” That is, instead of coming to an anchor, the schooner, under easy sail, would drop one dory with its trawl, then another, and so on until all were out, when it would turn back, pick them up in the same order, and stand off and on near the buoys until it was time to haul. As each trawl was set at right angles to the course of the schooner, and there were six of them placed at intervals of half a mile, very nearly three square miles of bottom were thus covered. The rest of the crew had been paired off, and had chosen their dories before Breeze and Nimbus came aboard, so these two naturally became dorymates. This time Nimbus was the green hand, and Breeze his instructor, in the art of trawl-setting. Everything went smoothly with them until they had partially hauled their trawl, when such a fearful thing happened to them that to this day Breeze cannot think of it without a shudder. Nimbus was in the forward part of the dory hauling in the line, while Breeze stood just behind him, coiling it away. As they were thus engaged, the trawl seemed to catch in some heavy body, and, in spite of his strength, Nimbus was obliged to call upon Breeze for aid to move it. [Illustration: MATEO, WITH A HOWL OF DISMAY, HAD DARTED FORWARD AND VANISHED IN THE FORECASTLE; WHILE NIMBUS, WITH A YELL OF AFFRIGHT, HAD ROLLED AFT.] “Mus’ hab um whale on de hook,” he panted, as he tugged at the straining line.