Chapter 12. The Mystery of a Thames Salmon

Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:00):
Chapter twelve of Van Angler's Hours by Hugh Tempest Sheringham.
This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Chapter twelve,
The Mystery of a Thames Salmon. Amarillus said, William, with
studied carelessness, is thinking of taking up fishing. I did

(00:24):
not encourage him, merely saying oh, in as noncommittal a
tone as I could manage. He went on, rather dubiously,
she wants to catch salmon because they make such good presents.
I nodded politely, but did not comment on his statement.
William has been married to Amarillus for three months and

(00:48):
is the most dutiful of husbands. He seemed a little
dashed by my lack of sympathy, and relighted his pipe,
which had gone out. Then he returned gallantly to the charge.
And so you know, we thought I'd better come and
see you, because you know about fishing and could tell

(01:10):
us what to do and where to go. It'll be
awfully good of you. Amarillus suggested that you might go
out with us next Saturday and put us in the
way of it. Where should we go? Having got thoroughly
into his subject, William acquired confidence, and his concluding question

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took I thought a good deal. For granted, he has
not yet got over his delighted wonder that so unworthy
a persons himself should have been chosen to render domestic
obedience to Amarillus. And he is still inclined to exact
for her extramural obedience on the part of his friends,

(01:51):
which to do us justice. We are in general very
willing to accord, for she is the most charming little
auto craw in the world. Nevertheless, there are occasions on
which one must obey with judgment. And when William pointed
out that even though I was going to fish the
itchen on Saturday, and even though there were no salmon there,

(02:16):
still Amarillus might be willing to content herself with trout
large ones, I hastened to exercise the judgment aforesaid itchin
trout I assured him were not to be caught in
a day, even by Amarillus. Was he aware, I asked
that one of the most noted experts living had only

(02:38):
killed one small fish during the whole of his first season.
Did he think that his wife would be willing to
persevere at least as long? I put the case somewhat strongly,
because I had a vision of keeper Jobson's face when
he should come upon the wedded pair seated side by

(02:58):
side and angling lobworms in a hatch hole. Fortunately, William
saw the point and was convinced that Amarylus would require
more speedy success, and besides, it was salmon she wanted,
not trout. He invited other suggestions. I gave him some.

(03:19):
I told him what were the chances of a young
and uninfluential married couple in the matter of salmon angling?
I forgot now what the figures were, but they roughly
represented a caster from ten to one hundred guineas per
pound of fish, according to the locality of the fishing,
and they considerably lengthened William's face. He said he had

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no idea that it would be so costly a business.
They could, of course, as his wife had intimated less
than the outlay, somewhat by borrowing the necessary implements from me,
but even so it required consider He would go home
and talk it over with Amarillus in the light of

(04:05):
the information that I had so kindly given him. He went,
and for some days I heard no more of the matter,
which seemed just as well. It would be absurd if
these two young people were really to add the angling
fever to the other woes of married life. Then came

(04:26):
a note to me from Amarillus. Please come to tea
it ran. We have found out where we can catch
salmon for nothing, she underlined the word, and I want
to show you how wrong you were. One rather likes
to be shown how wrong one was by Amarillus. So

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I went and found her triumphant. There, she said, giving
me a little slip of newspaper as I took my teacup.
What do you think of that? Willie said that what
you didn't know about fishing wasn't worth knowing. Is that
worth knowing? Please? Ameryllus's eyelashes curl upwards at the end

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and can look very mischievous. But it was not my fault.
If William had misrepresented me as an oracle on the
subject of my particular hobby, that he should apologize for
me then, by saying that everybody is liable to make mistakes,
I regarded as my misfortune, and I proceeded in self

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defense to read the newspaper cutting it was headed Salmon
for the Thames, and stated in a few words that
a further consignment of young salmon had been liberated by
the association which undertakes that laudable work. In fact, the

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paragraph closely resembled others that I had seen before, and
I did not feel that it required any particular comment,
or that it possessed any particular significance. I looked to
Amarillus for enlightenment, and was told without delay that if
some people put salmon into the Thames, other people could

(06:17):
take them out again, and moreover, could make presentation thereof
to Aunt Elizabeth and other objects of deserved esteem. Certainly
agreed William weightily. It seemed that he did not object
to being a little oracular himself when it could be
done in the safe form of conjugal agreement. It may

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be that subsequent event found me too ready to take
the broad downward path that I lost for a moment.
For a good many moments the frank faced candor that
should be an angler's proudest quality. But I would plead
that I, consciential endeavored to explain to the pair what

(07:03):
the paragraph signified, and that they steadily refused to be convinced. Also,
as I have mentioned, Amarillis's eyelashes are not to be
disregarded in a discussion. It says salmon, she asserted, with
a little toss of her head. If it meant pase

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or whatever you call them, it would say so undoubtedly.
William threw in, I don't believe you know anything at
all about it, She continued, with dignity, you weren't there.
I believe they put in quite big salmon so that
they might begin to fish for them at once. I

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call it very wise of them, and very stupid of
you to be so obstinate. Amer Elice's eyelashes almost touched
her cheek, and betokened that their mistress was quite hurt
about it. I gave way. You may be right, I admitted.

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The eyelashes left the cheek, and Amorillus looked up brightly.
I believe you are only teasing me, she said. And
to make up now you admit I'm right. You must
come and help us catch them. You must, old man
William added, can't do less. So it came about that

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not long afterwards, three persons were seated on three windsor
chairs in a punt anchored in a certain backwater of
the Thames. Two of them were prepared to give battle
to any salmon that might be in the vicinity. The
third myself was resignedly acting as philosopher and guide. It

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had seemed inadvisable to enlist the services of a professional fisherman,
for it is not every fisherman who can enter into
the spirit of a delicate situation. Amarillis was confident that
she was going to catch a salmon, and she expected
a show of confidence in those around her. Anything like

(09:16):
laughter or even doubt she would never have forgiven. William
also would dutifully have shown resentment. So I put lobworms
on barbell hooks for them, explained in answer to certain
initial complaints that they had not been provided with eighteen

(09:36):
foot fly rods because the water was the wrong color
for the fly, and generally endeavored to seek peace at
the expense of veracity. After all, I can bait a hook,
and I know as much of the haunts of thames
salmon as the next man. I hoped, too, that a
long day spent in vain would cool amorilli enthusiasm, and

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that after it the incident would be regarded as closed,
even at the expense of Father Thames's reputation as a
salmon river. It was possible, of course, that she might
ascribe failure to my inefficiency. But in that event, she
would not be unappeasable if she were ever to learn

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that she had caught no salmon, because they were none
to catch. I should never be forgiven for letting her
fish in error. The day wore on, we sought several
fresh beats save the mark, but never a touch indicated
that salmon or anything else fancied lobworms on ledger tackle

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we lunched, and I held forth at some length on
the uncertainty of salmon fishing. I amended the ancient Thames
story of the man who caught a brace of tenund
trout the first day he fished the river five years ago,
took a house on the banks on the strength of it,
and had been there ever since, fishing early and late

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without touching another, and gave it them. In my version,
he caught two twenty pound salmon early in the sixties,
but the other details were the same. Amarillus was plainly
impressed and began to eye the river doubtfully. Then there
was a momentary excitement over a small perch which had

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attached itself to William's lobworm. It excited her contempt as
being a mere common fish, and was returned a little later.
He boiled the cattle and had tea, and I told
the story of the ardent but unfortunate angler, who, since
early boyhood had been wandering from river to river throughout

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the United Kingdom, fishing day after day, but had never
yet called a salmon, though once he hooked and lost
what his gilly said might have been a sea trout.
It was an almost probable story, and very convincing. Amarillus
looked at her rod with distaste and feared she would

(12:19):
never really have patience enough for fishing. In fact, all
was going well. It was nearly time to go ashore
for the train. She had had her days salmon fishing,
and was in a fair way to be persuaded that
the fault of failure was not mine but fates, and

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all would doubtless have been well if she had not.
Soon afterwards had a bite, and after a severe tussle,
succeeded in landing the fish. It was a three pound chub, plump, silvery,
and as such a fish is apt to be imposing.

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I was about to disclose its identity to Amarillus, who
was still palpitating with excitement, when William, looking at it
judiciously said, suddenly, it is a salmon, by Jove that
did the mischief. Amarillus's secret suspicions were confirmed, and she

(13:21):
at once agreed with him enthusiastically. She had seen salmon
in shops, and they were just such big, bright fish
as this. Its head was perhaps a trifle big, and
some of its fins were red, but in all other
respects it was just about what it should have been.

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I shrugged my shoulders. Their mines were made up, and
it was no good saying anything, for they would not
now have believed me. I merely observed ironically that his
head and fins might be accounted for by their owners,
having been a long time in fresh water. They took
me seriously and said that it doubtless was so. After

(14:06):
that we had to pack up in a hurry and
catch our train. Amarillis was all smiles and enthusiasm during
the journey back to town. Luckily we had the carriage
to ourselves, and when we parted at Waterloo, she thanked
me prettily for my trouble and announced that she was
going to send the lovely salmon to Aunt Elizabeth that

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very night. I went home, wondering what the recipient would
think of the gift when it came to table, and
hoping that I at least might not hear of the
matter again. I did not for some days, but about
a week afterwards it was recalled to my memory rather

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violently by one in authority, who met me and waved
a journal at me. Have you seen this? He asked?
I had not seen that, and was promptly shown. The
journal was the Hourly Alarm, and in it was an
article entitled Salmon returned to the Thames Ladies remarkable capture,

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with many subheadings such as netted after the ninth Leap.
The article gave a grotesque but recognizable version of Amarillus's exploit,
and after a paragraph of superlatives, wandered into a remarkable
life history of the king of Fish, stating how it

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always works up rivers to feed and down them to spawn,
and attributing the return of salmon to the Thames to
a food supply increased by the winter floods. This is important,
said the one in authority, Not the gas, of course,
but the fact I gasped and begged him not to

(15:58):
take too much on trust. But somehow I could not
tell him why I was so warm about it. He
seemed surprised, but thanked me. But he had, he said,
the best of reasons for believing that the fish was
a real grillsy. He had ascertained the lady's name and address.
William must have been talking in the city, and he

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proposed to call upon her without delay. With that we parted.
Events have moved rapidly since then. I met to the
one in authority yesterday morning, and he was a very
angry man. It had a big head and red fins,
he explained shortly. It is disgraceful that these rumors should

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be published as facts in this way. The lady, he explained,
had been herself misled, and apparently by some experienced angler
who was with her. The name of that angler he
intended to ascertain, and his tone implied dire consequences to
the person in question. The One in authority does not

(17:08):
like having his time wasted over trifles. When I got home,
I found a note from Amarillus saying that doubts had
been cast on the authenticity of her fish, and commanding
me instantly to write letters to all the papers giving
my word as an angler that it was a salmon.

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Even Aunt Elizabeth was doubtful about it. Lastly, this morning
I find a paragraph in the Hourly Alarm headed Thames Salmon,
cruel hoax on a lady, and filled with caustic observations
about a certain gentlemen who is responsible for the home stake,

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and who he is, in plain words, invited to explain
his conduct. So I am just throwing a few clothes
into a portmanteau and am lee town for an indefinite period.
Letters will not be forwarded. End of Chapter twelve.