White Heather: A Novel (Volume 1 of 3)Black, William
General
White Heather: A Novel (Volume 1 of 3)
Black, William
Scotland -- Social life and customs -- Fiction
The truth was she was a little bit excited, and desperately anxious that
her strength should hold out; and even permitting herself an occasional
gleam of hope and joy and triumph. Her first salmon? Here would be
tidings for the girls at home! If only the beast would do something—or
show signs of yielding—anything rather than she should have to give in,
and weakly resign the rod to Ronald! As for him, he stood almost
touching her shoulder.
’No, no,’ said he, ’there’s no fear o’ your falling into the water.
We’ve got to get this gentleman out first.’
And then her feeble efforts at talking (meant to show that she was not
excited, but having exactly the contrary effect) all went by the board.
Something was happening—she knew not what—something wild, terrifying,
violent, desperate—and apparently quite near—and all the line was slack
now—and the handle of the reel stuck in her frantic efforts to turn it
with an impossible quickness—and her heart was choking with fright. For
why would this beast spring, and splash, and churn the water, while the
line seemed to go all wrong and everything become mixed? But her
trembling fingers got the reel to work at last; and she wound as quickly
as she could; and by this time the salmon had disappeared again, and was
bearing an even, dead strain on the rod, but not so heavily as before.
’My gracious!’ she said—she was quite breathless.
’It’s all right,’ he said quietly; but he had been pretty breathless
too, and for several seconds in blank despair.
The fish began to show signs of yielding—that last fierce thrashing of
the water had weakened him. She got in more and more line—Ronald’s
instructions being of the briefest and quietest—and presently they could
see a faint gleam in the water as the big fish sailed this way or that.
But still, she knew not what he might not do. That terrible time had
been altogether unexpected. And yet she knew—and her left arm was
gratefully conscious—that the strain was not so heavy now; the line was
quite short; and she became aware that she was exercising more and more
power over her captive and could force him to stop his brief and
ineffectual rushes.
Once or twice he had come quite near the boat—sailing in on his side, as
it were—and then sheering off again at the sight of them; but these
efforts to get away were growing more and more feeble; and at last
Ronald called—
’We’ll try him this time—give him the butt well—that’s right—lift his
head—now——’ and then there was a quick stroke of the clip, and the great
monster was in the boat, and she sank down on to the bench, her arms
limp and trembling, but her hand still grasping the rod. And she felt a
little inclined to laugh and to cry; and she wondered where her father
was; and she looked on in a dazed way as they killed the fish, and got
the phantom-minnow out of its mouth, and proceeded to the weighing of
the prize.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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