Fitz made no reply, for his face was flushed and his teeth hard set in the excitement of his task. "Oh yes, we've got him fast enough, Chips," said Poole. "Be very careful, for he's a heavy one, and Mr Burnett here wouldn't like to lose him now." "All right, sir," said the man, taking up the long shaft again, and lowering it down over the side. "I don't know, though, whether I shall be able to reach him from up here. It looks like being best to get down to the rudder-chains. No; it's all right. I shall manage him if you get him close up to the side." "Steady! Steady!" cried Poole. "He's making another flurry. Let him go again. No, it's all right--all over; haul away." By this time the great drops of perspiration were standing upon Fitz's brow, joining, and beginning to trickle down the sides of his face; but his teeth were still hard set, and intent upon the capture he kept on hauling away as hard as his weakness would allow. "There," cried Poole, at last. "You caught him; but you had better let me have the line to myself now to get him closer in, so that Chips can make a good stroke with the gaff and pull him right aboard." "Yes," said Fitz, with a sigh; "I suppose I must," and with his countenance beginning to contract with the disappointment he felt, he resigned the line and sat back in the chair, breathing hard, gently rubbing his aching muscles, and intently watching what was going on. That did not take long, but it was long enough to attract the other men who were on deck, and they came round, to form a semi-circle behind the middy's chair, while Poole hauled the fish closer and closer in beneath the counter, and then stayed his hand. "Can you do it now?" he cried. "Not quite. I'll come round the other side," replied the handler of the gaff, who, suiting the action to the word, changed his place, leaned right over the rail, almost doubling himself up, and then uttered a warning-- "Ready?" "Yes," was the reply. "Now then, half-a-fathom more." What followed was almost instantaneous. Poole made two fresh grips at the line, pulled hard, and then with an ejaculation fell backwards on to the deck with the hooks upon his chest. "Gone!" groaned Fitz; but his exclamation was drowned in a roar of laughter from the men, and a peculiar flapping, splashing noise caused by the fish, in which the gaff had taken a good hold, bending itself into the shape of a half-moon as it was hauled over the side, giving the man saluted as Chips a violent blow with its tail, and then as it flopped down upon the deck slapping the planks with sounding blow after blow. Following directly upon the laughter there was a loud cheer, and in the midst of his excitement at the triumphant capture, Fitz heard the mate's voice-- "Well done, Mr Burnett! That's about the finest bonito I ever saw. I thought you'd lost him, Chips." "Nay, sir; I'd got my hook into him too tight; but it was touch and go."