NOVEMBER IN BROADLAND. Ill 



go a herrin' catchin', and spend the rest of the yeer ashore a farm-labourin'. The 

 fisherman's life, 'bor, is a hard 'un, and it ain't the weak 'uns as kin stand it; them 

 as kin doan't look any the wuss, but a sight the better arter leavin' the plough-tail 

 awhile, and on the suinmat better livin' for the briny piles up yer appetite as well 

 grow fat and kedgey (sprightly). 



I wor a-sayin' it blowed. Wai, the wind wor fair, an' things looked promisin' 

 when the old tug Gleaner chucked off the tow-rope of the Sea-mew, and we stood 

 out t' sea. We was makin' for the fishin' grounds some miles tu the Nor'east'ard. 

 The sun went down in a ugly sky, but we didn't think as how things 'ud change 

 for the wuss so quickly. We'd hardly got the nets * shot,' and got turned in, when 

 the wind began to freshen. The skipper didn't like the manner on it, and his 

 glass went back most cur'ously; he gan the order tu haul 'em in. Now tain'tno 

 easy job tu haul in a mile an' a quarter of herrin' nets, stowin' the ' bowls ' (floats) 

 an' sich like, especially when yew're doin' it in a hurry. It wor well we did it 

 kedgey, for it blowed most awful by the time we'd done it, and got hove-tu under 

 storm-canvas. Yow'd be surprised how sune the North Sea turns up choppy. We 

 didn't feel pertikerler unaisy as the good wessel dipped her bows an' then rid over 

 the towerin' seas. Now she clomb (climbed) the white-fringed mountains, and now 

 she fell from theer tops intu the yawnin' gulf below. It wor more awful than grand 

 plungin' along in the black night. Two on us kept watch : the night was fearful long. 

 Thinks I, a basin o' hot tea 'ud du my innerds good. Half drownded with the spray 

 as flung itself aboard, and stung an' blinded with the hail, I shouts into my mate's 

 ear, and tells him so; an' went down. I'd hardly got below when we heerd a 

 terrific ' row ' on deck ; a sea broke over the wessel enough to bust her in tew. 

 An' we heerd a shriek. It w r or poor Dick Stevens's last cry; in a moment he must 

 ha' bin carried overboard an' bin drownded. I kin heer that screech now ! Poor 

 Dick ! he wor a dacent fellow. Eight intu the mainsail the water poured, heavin' 

 the Sea-meiu down on tu her beam-ends, and snappin' the boom like a piece o' stick. 

 We thought it wor all up with us now, 'bor. The fore-sheet wor carried away, an' 

 the sail flapped madly in the wind. Somehow, Grod only knows how, she righted. 

 But the water had rushed down the hatchway an' half filled her. Did we feel 

 skeered ? Wai, if I say we didn't, it 'ud be a lie, but we didn't feel like givin' it 

 up while the wessel hung togither. We should ha' looked a rum crew, if yow'd a 

 seen us, some half-dressed, hatless an' buteless, jest as we'd turned in. We'd our 

 work cut out, I kin tell ye. Cuttin' the boom clear for fear it 'ud knock a hole in 

 us, an' clearin' away the mainsail, we rigged up a jib an' sune brought her head 

 tu wind. Some got tu the pumps, and right glad we was tu heer them shout, 



