i6o ALONGSHORE "i 



di'sn't do no Sunday work,' replied the regular 

 hands, togged up in their best clothes and starch- 

 collars. 



*Aye,' returned Benjie, whose Sabbath is a 

 fisherman's, and lasts from sunset on Saturday till 

 sunset on Sunday. 'Might pick up a few shillings 

 up under the eastern cliff. There's some fine soles 

 to Kicking Donkey. I've a-see'd 'em. Thee ca'st 

 change thy clothes, casn' ?' 



"Taint wuth it. All right t'morrow, looks so.' 



'I bain't going to stay home for no best clothes,' 

 flashed Benjie. 'Lord! 'twould ha' gie'd they 

 there ol' fishermen fits, I reckon, if they was to 

 come back from the grave, for all they used to 

 wear high-poll hats week-days and Sundays alike. 

 Fine soles they be, too. Here's off.' 



Accordingly, he picked up a volunteer crew and 

 shoved off. 



We made an ordinary haul to the west of the 

 town, and another from the beach. The Sunday 

 evening promenaders collected round. 'My 

 senses! let's get out o' this,' exclaimed Benjie; so 

 we went up under the eastern cliff, where we knew 

 that Sunday boots and shoes would never follow 

 us along the shingle. There we started long- 

 hauling. 



