in THE MOON-RAINBOW 139 



Tou'm foul; that's what 'tis.' 



'G'out!' 



Benjie chuckled. 'I'll settle 'em,' he said. 

 'You see.' 



Whereupon we rowed back to the end buoys, 

 and, dragging up those of the inside drifter, 

 we shortened the lanyards by a fathom, so that the 

 nets hung shallower in the tide. Benjie laughed 

 hoarsely, as if in answer to a gull that was hover- 

 ing round. 'That's settled 'em — shooting foul 

 like that! They won't catch herrings, but they'll 

 drift clear. "Some artful ol' devil," they'll say, 

 "as knows drifting has been along here!" ' 



Then we upsailed for home. Soon the twink- 

 ling riding-lights seemed miles away on the shining 

 water; shining, because the moon had risen above 

 the bank of woolpacks, and was riding up the sky. 

 From the land a ghostly moon-rainbow arose, 

 arching to sea, protectively, right over the tranquil 

 fleet. A peace beyond words reigned. It was 

 almost impossible to imagine that there to the 

 west'ard, under the wide, bright, silent heavens, 

 under the great moon-rainbow, men hauled and 

 strained and tore and swore at their fouled nets. 



'Us an't found no lame ducks nor got no 

 herrings for our pains,' said Benjie, pulling with 



