THE COD-FISHERY 



moderately comfortably by three men and a " mousse," or 

 cabin-boy ; therefore the fishermen can take " turn and 

 turn about.' 1 The spare time is filled up with gossip, 

 draughts, dominoes, or cards ; with sorting and inspecting 

 the fishing-lines, or washing and mending of clothes. 

 Laundry- work aboard is a very simple matter. Stockings 

 and shirts are rubbed and wrung in a bucket of water and 

 hung on the boom to dry; blouses or "jumpers 11 the 

 short, coarse linen dress worn over the jersey are spread 

 out on deck, liberally soused with pails of water, and 

 scrubbed with the deck-brush. 



The days pass quite quickly enough, each seeming 

 colder than the one before as the vessel gets further 

 north. England, Ireland, and Scotland have been left 

 behind long ago; the Faroe Islands are passed without 

 even being sighted ; the boat has come within the region 

 of the "midnight sun." Often rain, fog, or snow en- 

 velops each smack, perhaps cutting it off from sight of 

 its nearest neighbours. The men have packed away their 

 woollen or skin caps and donned their sou 1 - westers head- 

 gear picturesque enough to the artist and the landsman, 

 but abhorred of all sailors, for that the heat of them 

 makes a man bald before his time. The Bretons have 

 given up expecting calm weathes for the next month 

 or two ; at 60.0 N., 20.0 W., they know little about 

 smooth seas; the boats are nearing the Iceland and 

 Greenland Banks. Away to the east a few Norwegian 

 whalers are pitching and heeling ; now and again, from 

 behind or in front, sounds the hoot of a steamer, bound 

 from Copenhagen, Leith, and the Faroes for Reikjavik ; 



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