3o8 ALONGSHORE v 



aBout the black, whispering waters. One Is almost 

 in them. But aboard the steam-drifter, with the 

 great waves of the gale to whidh the easterly wind 

 had increased, advancing out of the darkness, ris- 

 ing high for a moment in the light of the ship and 

 hurtling forward into darkness again, it seemed as 

 if the world itself was being tossed into space, and 

 nothing was steady, nothing fixed, except the eyes 

 with which one gazed. 



L'oncle Jean brought us a whole packet of the 

 Belgian tobacco, and asked us if we would not 

 like to go to bed. 'Not yet,' we answered. 'We 

 will stay and keep an eye on the whiting lines that 

 the boy has put out.' 



'Ah !' said l'oncle Jean, 'you ought to be here 

 for a few days. JFe take every chance of sleeping 

 that we can get. Much work, much work !' 



But the whiting and the red gurnard were not 

 on the feed. We stayed chatting in the salon a 

 chancer. Every two hours, for the benefit of each 

 watch, we had to give an account of where we 

 came from and how we fished at home; and I had 

 to explain that I was not Jim's boat-owner, but 

 his mate, who worked under him as any other 

 fisherman's mate might do, for more kicks than 

 ha'pence. They plainly pitied us longshoremen; 



