FOUR OPTIMISTS

Wanganui Chronicle, Volume LXXXIII, Issue 20104, 24 March 1928, Page 13 (Supplement)

FOUR OPTIMISTS

FISHERMEN’S LUCK EARLY MORNING EFFORTS IN THE RIVER. In the cold dawn of Saturday last lour Wanganui men went fishing. Between them, they carried eight lines and quite as many jags, while, to bring home the lisn, they had three sugar bags and two sacks. All four were optimists, and, behind them in the city tney had left many more similarly inclined looking forward to lisli breakfasts with pleasant anticipations. Roughly a quarter of a mile from Imlay one of the party suggested the use of his rowing boat mouied on the edge of the river's mud.

“You’ll never do as well off the wharf as you will in a boat,” he declared. “ 1 ’ll row you out. ’ ’ Tue party went. A few yards out from snore it became evident that tne boat leaked.

“She’s always leaked,” sairl the man at the oars tartly us, with mighty sweeps, he drove the craft further ana furtner into the deep river running seawards with an outgoing tide anu behind a stiff easterly wind. 4 ‘She's safe as the bank, 1 tell you. Can’t one of you bail her out?” Regretfully the man in the stern picked up a rusty kerosene tin. 4 4 This is the end of my fishing, 1 can see that,” he said gioomiiy. Between the moving craft and the Imlay wharf only one obstacle appeared in view: a mooring post well out in the river and enough space round it for a hundred such boats to pass, but, by accident or by design, this craft nosed up against tire fixture witn a resounding crash, nonplussing the oarsman and upsetting the balance of tne bailer-out, seating him neatly in the two inches of river he had been bent on throwing overboard. The owner’s rowing ability came in for some severe criticism at that moment, but after the craft had completed three good circles the course was once mure set for the Imlay wharf.

‘‘The boat's never had a rudder,” was the owner’s admission of a fact which had already become only too apparent tu the remainder of its passengers. inough the sun had not yet made its appearance and the east wind was biting cold, Imlay wharf was not deserted, and the man in the bow perceived neaxly a dozen fishing lines dangling in the water.

‘•Don’t row into those,” he warn cd the oarsman.

“I'm rowing this boat,” was all the reply he got, and the next second the swiftly moving craft, aided by current as well as oars, shot into a net-work of cord, hooks, bait and sinkers, and her arrival on the far side of Lhe wharf was heralded by most uncomplimentary references loudly made by those on shore. “Give us a chance mate,” demand-

ed the owner of the boat. “We’ll be out of your way in a tick.” The big man addressed had lost a brand new herring line which snapped when the boat surged beneath the wharf, and he mumbled something hardly audible.

A roll of binder twine moored the boat to a wharf pile and she drifted downstream to the line’s full length, her passing from beneath the wharf reassuring those on shore and lulling their apprehensions. The bailer-out refused to fish.

“When you jokers catch something I’ll think about it then,” he stated. Two hours passed and the crew nao one herring between them, but those on the wharf were hauling them in in line style, each fish being hailed with delight. Another hour passed and the bailer-out had one effort —just for luck! He flicked a jag through the water and landed a herring barely three inches long. After that four pessimists went home in place of the four optimists who went out. “You might slip over and get a pound of sausages,” said one lady when they returned. “We’ll have early lunch instead of breakfast.” That savoured of adding insult to injury, and four bedraggled fishermen betook themselves to the nearest bar. In a pause between drinks the bailerout became suddenly alive.

“I’ve got it” he exclaimed. “No wonder we got no fish. Fill ’em up again. It’s St. Patrick’s Day!”