142 ALONGSHORE m 



'Iss,' he said, sniffing, as the drifter's lugsail 

 went up more jerkily than usual because she was 

 plunging so into the seas, 'they'd better ha' turned 

 their starns to it like thic drifter that's come ashore 

 over along. 'Tisn't no fit time; an' they wouldn't 

 ha' gone, I'll warrant, if her hadn't been a'ready 

 moored off. Thunder weather, this is; an' I'd 

 rather be catched in a gale, what comes on proper, 

 than in one o' they thunder-puffs, what comes 

 down on 'ee in five minutes, blows like a hurricane 

 for ten, an' then 'tis so calm you got to strip to 

 your flannel an' row home. But there ! they can 

 go if they'm minded, though 'tisn't never worth 

 while to risk losing your fleet o' nets, an' 

 endangering your own life too; an' that you'll 

 find out when you'm so old as I be, If you don't 

 know it when you'm young. Nor I hain't going 

 to drive anybody to sea in wild weather, not if 

 the drifter don't pay for barking her own nets. 

 Ah ! the old Henrietta was the boat. Pity I ever 

 sold she up to Ware, an' bought thic there lumber- 

 some gert thing. I've never done no good wi' 

 her, nor never shan't, not like us did wi' the 

 Henrietta. Come'd down, they did; put her gear 

 In her an' shoved off; an' upsailed for Ware wi' a 

 fine leading wind. Her went from me, me watch- 



