"No, no, lad; in the bay. He can see fish, and he's signalling." "But he can't see fish in the bay up there." "Oh, yes! he can. Colour of the water, my lad. He can see a school, and--All right! The lads have seen. There goes the seine-boat." He pointed to a large boat that seemed laden with something brown. There were several men in her, and they had pushed off, and were rowing steadily out towards the middle of the bay, the water that they lifted with their oars flashing like silver in the sunshine. "I can see the school, Josh," said Will. "There, just beyond Dallow buoy;" and he stood up pointing with his hand, while the man on the cliff seemed to have a bunch of something in each hand, and to be turning himself into a human semaphore. "Right, lad! There's the school," said Josh, who had also risen in the boat, and was shading his eyes with his hand. "See, Master Dick?" "No, I can't see anything." "What--not out yonder, to left of that buoy?" "I can see the water looks dark and rippled," said Dick. "That's them, lad. That's the school o' mack'rel, and I shouldn't wonder if they come right on the flat rock sand." "What--out of the water?" "Out of the water? No. Not unless they are catched, and then they'll come out of the water fast enough." "Look at that chap on the cliff!" cried Dick, as the man began waving what really were boughs of heather up and down. "Yes, he's signalling away to them in the boat. He can see the school. P'r'aps they can't; and he's telling 'em which way to row." "But what are they going to do?" cried Dick. "Do? Why, try and catch that school of mack'rel. Can't you see the seine?" "What--the net?" said Dick. "Yes; that's it--hundreds of yards of it. Can you see which way the school's going?" "Right up to the head of the bay," replied Will. "Then they are going over the sands, and the lads'll get them. Can't shoot a seine if there's rocks anywhere near," added Josh for the visitor's information. "Get the net torn, and the mack'rel would get out of the hole or under the bottom, where it rests on the rocks. You'd like to stop and see them shoot?" "What--the mackerel?" said Dick. "Yah! No; the net." "Shoot it?" said Dick. "Yes; shoot it over into the sea." "Oh! I understand," said Dick; "but they shoot rubbish." "Oh, they shoot rubbish, do they?" said Josh. "Yes, about London," replied Dick. "Look how he's waving his arms about." "Yes. School's going off another way. P'r'aps they mayn't get a chance to shoot, for the school may go out to sea." "Let's row close up. I want to see," cried Dick. "Nay, nay; we might be frightening the fish. Let's wait and see first, and if they surround 'em then we'll go close up. You sit still and watch."