There were a few fishermen's huts close to the battery, and while two of the boats went on board of the vessels, to see if they could be got off, and others were spiking the guns and destroying the carriages, I went with O'Brien to examine them: they were deserted by the people, as might have been supposed, but there was a great quantity of fish in them, apparently caught that morning.

O'Brien pointed to a very large skate--"Murder in Irish!" cried he, "it's the very ghost of my grandmother! we'll have her if it's only for the family likeness.

Peter, put your finger into the gills, and drag her down to the boat." I could not force my finger into the gills, and as the animal appeared quite dead, I hooked my finger into its mouth; but I made a sad mistake, for the animal was alive, and immediately closed its jaws, nipping my finger to the bone, and holding it so tight that I could not withdraw it, and the pain was too great to allow me to pull it away by main force, and tear my finger, which it held so fast.

There I was, caught in a trap, and made a prisoner by a flat-fish.

Fortunately, I hallooed loud enough to make O'Brien, who was close down to the boats, with a large codfish under each arm, turn round and come to my assistance.