按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
oats or cow…ponds any longer？ where are the english coarse fish now？ when i was a kid every pond and stream had fish in it。 now all the ponds are drained； and when the streams aren’t poisoned with chemicals from factories they’re full of rusty tins and motor…bike tyres。
my best fishing…memory is about some fish that i never caught。 that’s usual enough； i suppose。
when i was about fourteen father did a good turn of some kind to old hodges； the caretaker at binfield house。 i forget what it was— gave him some medicine that cured his fowls of the worms； or something。 hodges was a crabby old devil； but he didn’t forget a good turn。 one day a little while afterwards when he’d been down to the shop to buy chicken…corn he met me outside the door and stopped me in his surly way。 he had a face like something carved out of a bit of root； and only two teeth； which were dark brown and very long。
‘hey； young ‘un！ fisherman； ain’t you？’
‘yes。’
‘thought you was。 you listen； then。 if so be you wanted to； you could bring your line and have a try in that they pool up ahind the hall。 there’s plenty bream and jack in there。 but don’t you tell no one as i told you。 and don’t you go for to bring any of them other young whelps； or i’ll beat the skin off their backs。’
having said this he hobbled off with his sack of corn over his shoulder； as though feeling that he’d said too much already。 the next saturday afternoon i biked up to binfield house with my pockets full of worms and gentles； and looked for old hodges at the lodge。 at that time binfield house had already been empty for ten or twenty years。 mr farrel； the owner； couldn’t afford to live in it and either couldn’t or wouldn’t let it。 he lived in london on the rent of his farms and let the house and grounds go to the devil。 all the fences were green and rotting； the park was a mass of nettles； the plantations were like a jungle； and even the gardens had gone back to meadow； with only a few old gnarled rose… bushes to show you where the beds had been。 but it was a very beautiful house； especially from a distance。 it was a great white place with colonnades and long…shaped windows； which had been built； i suppose； about queen anne’s time by someone who’d travelled in italy。 if i went there now i’d probably get a certain kick out of wandering round the general desolation and thinking about the life that used to go on there； and the people who built such places because they imagined that the good days would last for ever。 as a boy i didn’t give either the house or the grounds a second look。 i dug out old hodges； who’d just finished his dinner and was a bit surly； and got him to show me the way down to the pool。 it was several hundred yards behind the house and pletely hidden in the beech woods； but it was a good…sized pool； almost a lake； about a hundred and fifty yards across。 it was astonishing； and even at that age it astonished me； that there； a dozen miles from reading and not fifty from london； you could have such solitude。 you felt as much alone as if you’d been on the banks of the amazon。 the pool was ringed pletely round by the enormous beech trees； which in one place came down to the edge and were reflected in the water。 on the other side there was a patch of grass where there was a hollow with beds of wild peppermint； and up at one end of the pool an old wooden boathouse was rotting among the bulrushes。
the pool was swarming with bream； small ones； about four to six inches long。 every now and again you’d see one of them turn half over and gleam reddy brown under the water。 there were pike there too； and they must have been big ones。 you never saw them； but sometimes one that was basking among the weeds would turn over and plunge with a splash that was like a brick being bunged into the water。 it was no use trying to catch them； though of course i always tried every time i went there。 i tried them with dace and minnows i’d caught in the thames and kept alive in a jam…jar； and even with a spinner made out of a bit of tin。 but they were gorged with fish and wouldn’t bite； and in any case they’d have broken any tackle i possessed。 i never came back from the pool without at least a dozen small bream。 sometimes in the summer holidays i went there for a whole day； with my fishing…rod and a copy of chums or the union jack or something； and a hunk of bread and cheese which mother had wrapped up for me。 and i’ve fished for hours and then lain in the grass hollow and read the union jack； and then the smell of my bread paste and the plop of a fish jumping somewhere would send me wild again； and i’d go back to the water and have another go； and so on all through a summer’s day。 and the best of all was to be alone； utterly alone； though the road wasn’t a quarter of a mile away。 i was just old enough to know that it’s good to be alone occasionally。 with the trees all round you it was as though the pool belonged to you； and nothing ever stirred except the fish ringing the water and the pigeons passing overhead。 and yet； in the two years or so that i went fishing there； how many times did i really go； i wonder？ not more than a dozen。 it was a three…mile bike ride from home and took up a whole afternoon at least。 and sometimes other things turned up； and sometimes when i’d meant to go it rained。 you know the way things happen。
one afternoon the fish weren’t biting and i began to explore at the end of the pool farthest from binfield house。 there was a bit of an overflow of water and the ground was boggy； and you had to fight your way through a sort of jungle of blackberry bushes and rotten boughs that had fallen off the trees。 i struggled through it for about fifty yards； and then suddenly there was a clearing and i came to another pool which i had never known existed。 it was a small pool not more than twenty yards wide； and rather dark because of the boughs that overhung it。 but it was very clear water and immensely deep。 i could see ten or fifteen feet down into it。 i hung about for a bit； enjoying the dampness and the rotten boggy smell； the way a boy does。 and then i saw something that almost made me jump out of my skin。
it was an enormous fish。 i don’t exaggerate when i say it was enormous。 it was almost the length of my arm。 it glided across the pool； deep under water； and then became a shadow and disappeared into the darker water on the other side。 i felt as if a sword had gone through me。 it was far the biggest fish i’d ever seen； dead or alive。 i stood there without breathing； and in a moment another huge thick shape glided through the water； and then another and then two more close together。 the pool was full of them。 they were carp； i suppose。 just possibly they were bream or tench； but more probably carp。 bream or tench wouldn’t grow so huge。 i knew what had happened。 at some time this pool had been connected with the other； and then the stream had dried up and the woods had closed round the small pool and it had just been forgotten。 it’s a thing that happens occasionally。 a pool gets forgotten somehow； nobody fishes in it for years and decades and the fish grow to monstrous sizes。 the brutes that i was watching might be a hundred