citedly, "they ain't nawthin' in the world that is wuth while, 'ceptin' only a ship!"
"No," Garth said; "nothing."
The fishers sat silent, now and then drawing in the lines to see that they were still baited properly. 'Bijah smoked his pipe and studied the horizon with narrowed, sea-worn eyes. The Lydia rose and fell with a monotonous motion, flicking a shimmering string of drops from her anchor cable each time she lifted.
The line Garth held sang suddenly through his hand. He let it go with a little gasp, and caught it again immediately. 'Bijah sprang across the boat and seized it.
"Leggo thar," the Captain said, "an' lemme hev thet; it's most got the hand off you already. What in thunder you got here, anyways? Feels like you'd hooked the Ol' Sea-Sarpint hisself."
He hauled away at the line, while Garth, holding his cut fingers, leaned eagerly over the gunwale.
"This ain't no mackerel," 'Bijah said, "Gorry! it's a codfish you got, Ga'th. Look at here!" He flopped a great shining fish into the dingy cockpit. "Eight pounds, or I'm a land-lubber!"
