Hinging 



the foot-rope had just reached the deck and the herring were froth- 

 ing wakefully in a hammock of close meshes. 



'Oh yes, then,' he continued finally, 'it's quite easy really. You 

 just brail them out and out them in the fish hold, sail back to port 

 and go to the pictures.' 



'But how do you brail them out? Last time I heard of them 

 they were still boiling about the rail of the ship. How do you get 

 them out ? And who goes to the pictures ? Do they leave the fel- 

 low on the other boat to muddle his own way back?' 



'Oh no. Before you start bringing the fish aboard the boats 

 come alongside again and the crews change back to the as-you- 

 were position. Then the boat that had been without a crew sails 

 round to pick up the remaining buff and the final stretch of the 

 head-rope. And so you find that the bag of the net is lying be- 

 tween the two boats and you can brail out into both of them.' 



*So that's why you need calm weather,' said Jan. 'In a bit of 

 sea you'd have the boats bumping into each other and the net 

 would be doing a splash-dance in the middle. All the fish that 

 weren't squashed between the sides would be catapulted out of 

 the bag and back to where they came from?' 



'That's part of it, I suppose. But it's not quite as bad as all that. 

 You need a bit of shelter but you needn't be put out by a little 

 breeze. There are a couple of poles that can be tethered fore and 

 aft of each boat and these are used to prop them apart when the 

 going's a bit rough. If the sea's too bad, of course, they're apt to 

 splinter and then they can be more nuisance than help, careering 

 about and swishing along the deck like those spears you see in 

 films about Africa. One of them prodded me over the side. It 

 just kept edging up to me, anticipating my every move, until, God 

 man, that kind of swell when the sea seems to be going to spew 

 her own guts out, and the damned thing had fairly poked me over 

 the rail. If I hadn't had the sea to fall into it would have had me 

 stuck like a pig with my rib bones all busted. I've never been so 

 glad of a wetting in my life. But that kind of thing happens only 

 once in a dozen years, and it's usually not the sea's fault. In this 



20^ 



