"It be only a gashly scad," said the great, black-bearded fisherman; and he turned the fish good-humouredly into Dick's landing-net. "Why, it's a kind of mackerel-looking fish," said Dick, as he examined his fresh prize. "Ah! mind how you touch it!" cried Will, "it is very sharp and prickly." "All right!" said Dick. "Oh! I say, though, it is sharp." "Well, you were warned," said Mr Temple, as Dick applied a bleeding finger to his mouth. "Yes, but I did not know it was so sharp as that," said Dick. "Don't you touch it, Taff;" and this time he turned the fish over more carefully, to see that it was much the same shape as an ordinary mackerel, but broader of body and tail, and less graceful of outline, while its markings and tints would not compare with those of the ordinary mackerel, and it was provided, as Dick had found, with some very keen spines. "What do you call this?" said Arthur, rather importantly. "Scad, sir--horse-mackerel," cried Will. "Are they good to eat?" said Arthur. Will shook his head. "They taste strong, and they say they're not wholesome, sir," replied Will. "Look, they've just caught a bass." The beautiful silvery fish was passed on by one of the fishermen, and the brilliant scales and sharp, perch-like fin of this favourite fish were being examined, when a violent splashing and commotion told of the presence of something larger in the net. Whatever it was it escaped for the time; but ten minutes later it was caught in another net, a large, vigorous-looking fish, which made a bold effort to escape, but instead of leaping back into the sea fell into the bottom of one of the boats, where one of the fishermen gave it three or four vigorous blows with a club before he passed it on to Josh, who ladled it into his own boat with the net borrowed from Dick. "Hake, sir," he said to Mr Temple. "Right good fish, sir, cooked anyhow; and I say as good as cod." "How came that to be in a mackerel shoal?" said Mr Temple. "Hungry, sir, _I_ should say," replied Josh. "They generally follows the herring and pilchards, and snatch 'em as they're coming into the nets. I s'pose this one wanted a bit o' mackerel for a treat." "About nine pounds, sir, I should say," said Will. "You'd like to keep it for dinner?" "Is it good enough?" said Mr Temple smiling. "Good enough, sir!" cried Will. "Oh, yes! People don't know what a good fish hake is, or they'd oftener want it in London. There's another fish that isn't a mackerel, Master Dick. What should you say that is?" "Don't know," said Dick, looking at a curious pale-green mottled fish of two or three pounds weight. It was something like a perch in shape, but longer and more regular, and unprovided with the sharp back fin. "Do you know what it is, papa?" asked Arthur. "No, my boy, I am not learned in these west-country fishes. What is it, my man?"