“How deep are you fishing, Susan?” said Titty.
“Very nearly as deep as my rod will let me,” said Susan.
“Mine’s only about three feet down. I can see the minnow easily.”
“That’s no good,” said John. “It ought to be about a foot from the bottom. Bring it in, and I’ll push your float up.”
Susan’s float bobbed first. She struck at once, and brought up her hook with nothing on it.
“He’s gone off with my minnow,” she said.
“You struck too soon,” said John.
“I wish the boat didn’t swing about so,” said Titty. “Look out, Roger, your float’s nearly touching mine. Now you’re lifting my float as well as yours. They’re both tangled.”
John disentangled them, but when he had done it, he found the boat had swung the other way, and his own tackle was tangled in the same way with Susan’s.
“This is no good,” he said. “We must have an anchor at each end so that the boat won’t swing. All rods in! Haul up the anchor, Roger. We’ll get a big stone on the shore. There’s plenty of anchor rope to spare.”
So they rowed ashore, and fastened a big stone to the other end of the anchor rope. Then they rowed back to another place not far away. Roger let go the anchor, and Susan lowered the stone over the stern of the boat. This time Swallow rested broadside on to the wind, and did not swing at all. But they found it was no good fishing on the windward side, because the wind, even though there was so little of it, brought the floats in under the boat. So they all four fished on the same side. As the boat was not