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The sweet sounds they followed, The gasping cod swallow'd 'Twas wonderful, really; And turbot and flounder, 'Mid fish that were rounder, Just caper'd as gaily. John-dories came tripping; Dull hake, by their skipping, To frisk it seem'd given; Bright mackrel went springing, Like small rainbows winging Their flight up to heaven.
The sweet sounds they followed, The gasping cod swallow'd 'Twas wonderful, really; And turbot and flounder, 'Mid fish that were rounder, Just caper'd as gaily. John-dories came tripping; Dull hake, by their skipping, To frisk it seem'd given; Bright mackrel went springing, Like small rainbows winging Their flight up to heaven.
The following day I was sent with another midshipman with two boats to haul the seine in a bay about a mile to the westward. On the first haul we caught about four bucketsful of rays, parrot-fish, snappers, groupers, red and white mullet, John-dories, some crabs and two electric eels.
I now had the delightful opportunity of once more breathing my native air, viewing beautiful Mount Edgcumbe, revelling in clotted cream and potted pilchards, tickling my palate—as Quin used to do—with John-dories, conger eels, star-gazey and squab pies, cray-fish, and sometimes, but not very often—for my purse was only half-flood in consequence of my expenses whilst on shore at the “Tap” at Sheerness—I had a drive upon Dock.
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