Living Silver 



all soaking moist, were layered over them and a lid was hammered 

 on top. This lid, like the floor, was pierced with nine half inch 

 holes. These allowed air to enter the packing boxes and pre- 

 vented the beasts from being smothered, just as the wood shav- 

 ings, impregnated with water, kept them from desiccation. Thus 

 packed, the lobsters would remain alive for quite considerable 

 periods, sometimes well over a week, though that could not be 

 guaranteed. They were certainly ready to endure the short 

 journey to Kirkwall where Frank could disembarrass himself of 

 them. Their further care was in the hands of the wholesaler, who 

 bought most of the Orkney lobsters and had the difficult job of 

 transporting them safely and economically, by plane or by ship, 

 to the great markets of Billingsgate and, sometimes, Glasgow. 

 Jan's job ended when his packing cases reached Kirkwall. 



It had been a good season, the one Jan spent with Frank. The 

 softness of the summer sea had rarely been bruised white by the 

 gales that sometimes interrupt the operations of the lobster 

 fisherman. Only twice had Frank been forced to go out in the 

 thick of a big wind and collect the empty traps lest they be 

 battered against the rocks of the coast. And prices too had been 

 high, though that reticence which Jan later found in all the 

 financial confidences of fishermen, made it impossible to get more 

 than the vaguest idea of what Frank's earnings had been. But he 

 did know that there had been hardly any losses. Only one creel 

 had disappeared. They had raised the rope to which it had been 

 tethered. They had been watchful, hopeful, careful. But, at the 

 end of it, there had been only a ragged patch of frayed strands, 

 no lobster, no creel, and no hint of what had happened. 'The 

 damned fish must be going on a diet of cotton. ' They had dragged 

 the bottom with part of a beach seine net but they could find no 

 trace of the vanishing creel. 



And it had been just such exciting little mysteries among the 

 lukewarm summertime of the Atlantic that had started Jan out 

 on his love of the sea and had conquered his queasiness and his 

 memories of the English Channel. But though he had decided 



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