One fine morning, just after the men had landed, and before they had commenced work, “Long Forsyth”, as his comrades styled him, went to a pool to gather a little dulse, of which there was a great deal on the rock, and which was found to be exceedingly grateful to the palates of those who were afflicted with sea-sickness.

He stooped over the pool to pluck a morsel, but paused on observing a beautiful fish, about a foot long, swimming in the clear water, as quietly as if it knew the man to be a friend, and were not in the least degree afraid of him.

Forsyth was an excitable man, and also studious in his character.  He at once became agitated and desirous of possessing that fish, for it was extremely brilliant and variegated in colour.  He looked round for something to throw at it, but there was nothing within reach.  He sighed for a hook and line, but as sighs never yet produced hooks or lines he did not get one.

Just then the fish swam slowly to the side of the pool on which the man kneeled, as if it actually desired more intimate acquaintance.  Forsyth lay fiat down and reached out his hand toward it; but it appeared to think this rather too familiar, for it swam slowly beyond his reach, and the man drew back.  Again it came to the side, much nearer.  Once more Forsyth lay down, reaching over the pool as far as he could, and insinuating his hand into the water.  But the fish moved off a little.

Thus they coquetted with each other for some time, until the man’s comrades began to observe that he was “after something”.

“Wot’s he a-doin’ of?” said one.  “Reachin’ over the pool, I think,” replied another.  “Ye don’t mean he’s sick?” cried a third.  The smile with which this was received was changed into a roar of laughter as poor Forsyth’s long legs were seen to tip up into the air, and the whole man to disappear beneath the water.  He had overbalanced himself in his frantic efforts to reach the fish, and was now making its acquaintance in its native element!

The pool, although small in extent, was so deep that Forsyth, long though he was, did not find bottom.  Moreover, he could not swim, so that when he reached the surface he came up with his hands first and his ten fingers spread out helplessly; next appeared his shaggy head, with the eyes wide open, and the mouth tight shut.  The moment the latter was uncovered, however, he uttered a tremendous yell, which was choked in the bud with a gurgle as he sank again.

The men rushed to the rescue at once, and the next time Forsyth rose he was seized by the hair of the head and dragged out of the pool.

It has not been recorded what became of the fish that caused such an alarming accident, but we may reasonably conclude that it sought refuge in the ocean cavelets at the bottom of that miniature sea, for Long Forsyth was so very large, and created such a terrible disturbance therein, that no fish exposed to the full violence of the storm could have survived it!