THE COD-FISHERY 



a squall ; maybe one of those terrible tempests that, 

 before the fleet can run towards Reikjavik, will have put 

 an end to more than one of the plucky little Breton 

 yawls. But, be it squall or tempest, it will interfere with 

 the fishing for the time being, so it is no wonder that the 

 men have been anxious to profit by the recent calm. 



There is another aspect, too, of that calm and the 

 ensuing storm. They are incidents events coming in 

 relief of what would be, to most people, a dismal same- 

 ness. Even a fisherman is human and likes a change at 

 times as well as his neighbours ; and a lull, or a storm, or 

 a fog, or an extra large or small catch are the only changes 

 the " Islandais " can look for, except the periodical visit 

 of a Danish or French steamboat, which brings him his 

 letters and his newspapers, his medicines, tobacco, and 

 fresh water. 



A few more brief calms, another fog or two happily 

 the fog does not interfere much with the fishing and the 

 men begin to count the days, then the hours, that must 

 elapse before they start for home. The boats that have 

 had the luckiest season are the first to go; some, less 

 fortunate, stay as long as the late August and September 

 squalls will allow them. Often there is a sort of under- 

 stood race for home; for the boats that are the first in 

 will get the best market for their fish. Most of them will 

 probably sail straight away for Bordeaux and the neigh- 

 bourhood, where prices may be better than in the large 

 northern towns, buy their salt for the coming season and 

 then turn homewards, each member of the crew with 

 perhaps a thousand francs (40) in his pocket, his share 



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