26. A HERRING HAUL IN A FRENCH 

 STEAM-DRIFTER 



'But suppose,' said the skipper of the Marie- 

 Marthe, — 'suppose we do not catch enough her- 

 rings to-night, and remain at sea two nights, or 

 three? Voiis serez contents? You will not 

 mind?' 



We were standing in a group on the grimy 

 edge of the Qual Gambetta at Boulogne. All 

 around was the hubbub of that busiest of fishing 

 ports. The harbour was crowded with craft, the 

 foreground thick with their swaying masts, and 

 the air with their smoke, which rose lazily in 

 clouds, then scudded off raggedly in the windy 

 upper air. Below us, alongside the quay, lay the 

 Marie-Mar the, her decks black with a mixture of 

 coal-dust and herring-slime. We were silent — ■ 

 trying to make up our minds. I translated the 

 skipper's question into Jim's better ear, repeated 



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