22 SEA-FOWL SHOOTING IN 



from North Berwick is eight miles, but it is neces- 

 sary to be cautious in crossing this channel in 

 an open boat, as a little wind soon raises a heavy 

 sea. 



My usual skipper, Glass, being absent at the 

 herring-fishing, we hired the most sea-worthy 

 fishing-smack in the harbour, belonging to his 

 late pupil and assistant Kelly. Although there 

 were some ugly streamers, what seamen call a 

 " dirty " or " dusty " sky, yet the west wind was 

 gentle, and perfectly fair for our destination, the 

 lighthouse of May. 



Kelly's crew was made up of his father-in-law, 

 an old whale-fisher, and a stout lad who seemed 

 to have been nourished on tobacco and whisky. 

 When the sail was hoisted outside the docks, 

 with the soft west wind just strong enough to 

 fill it, and the Bass and Tantallon spread before 

 us, with all their romantic associations, one's 

 spirit rose as in earlier days. Even our crew 

 appeared to share the enthusiasm not the less, 

 perhaps, from the good supply of meat, drink, 

 and tobacco. If I did catch Kelly casting a fur- 

 tive glance now and then at the streaky horizon, 



