V JIM'S LAMENTATION 305 



brighter, it seemed, than daylight. Drifters around 

 us followed suit, till the herring ground was like 

 a gay illuminated town. It was just after five in 

 the afternoon. 'Be 'em never going to stop 

 shooting thic net?' asked Jim. 'How much ever 

 do 'em carry, for goodness sake?' Six thousand 

 metres, they told us, — nearly four miles. On 

 hearing which, Jim gave voice to the small drifts- 

 man's lamentation : 'No wonder us don't catch 

 the herrings us used to, when these here things 

 sw^eeps the Channel wi' their miles o' net, an' 

 catches 'em all up afore they comes to us in our 

 bay! It don't give the fish a chance. I pitys 

 'em, I do. God's sakes, what a sight o' herrings 

 must come into these seas for to stand it! An' If 

 these here fellows could use fine nets like ours — 

 which they can't for their heavy work — instead o' 

 their coarse thick-ply yarn, they'd catch three 

 thousand where they catches a thousand now. Us 

 got the 'vantage o'em there, I reckon. An' lucky 

 for the likes o'us 'tis so.' 



The last of the nets went over the side; an 

 additional length of cable, for riding to, was paid 

 out and made fast; and in the twinkling of an 

 eye the deck was deserted, except by those who 

 carried pannikins of food from the galley aft to 



X 



