THE BRITISH HERRING FISHERY 



lean over the bulwarks and, getting their arms under the 

 net, lift in whole bundles of living and dead fish. 



"Last lot,' 1 says someone who has been mechanically 

 counting the nets as they come up. Now the jerks and 

 rips are growing more frequent, for here are more dead 

 herring than live ones. That last net will require a lot 

 of patient mending when they get it ashore. But, in 

 spite of breakages and unusual weight, it is pulled 

 aboard at last. While the men nearest the gunwale have 

 been hauling in, others behind them have been busily 

 shaking and twisting the nets in order to clear them as 

 far as they can of their silvery load ; and now that all 

 hands can be spared for this work the hold is getting 

 fuller and fuller, till, to the inexperienced eye, it would 

 seem that the vessel must either founder or else take 

 about a day and a half to wander home, lame duck 

 fashion. But the crew cast almost a disparaging glance 

 over the catch ; all of them have seen twice as many to 

 one strike. 



"Unship the last three," cries the skipper, "and let's 

 try another shoot." 



The three nets at the top of the coil are untied and 

 laid aside, considerably the worse for wear; and, as the 

 water still glitters, and it will be long before daylight 

 appears, the remainder of the fleet is re-shot. Then care- 

 ful hands spread out the pyramids of fish so that those at 

 the top fill up the spare corners of the hold and leave 

 room for the next batch. 



Now that the nets are shot for the second time, a by- 

 stander has an opportunity of noticing that a peculiar 



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