THE BRITISH HERRING FISHERY 



the mast is gently lowered backwards till it lies like a 

 dividing-line along the middle of the vessel. At present 

 nothing more can be done, and the men adjourn to the 

 cabin-stove, or huddle round the fire-bucket if there be 

 no cabin, and smoke their pipes or eat their supper in 

 dead silence. Boat and nets are drifting, and, so long as 

 they drift away from the rock-bed, the skipper does not 

 worry himself ; he can keep a certain amount of control 

 over the vessel with the rudder, and, if he considers it 

 necessary, he has kept up his mizzen-sail in order to hold 

 her nose to the wind. 



Presently he gives a little chuckle of satisfaction ; the 

 gleams and flashes in the water are broadening; the 

 surface is bubbling and frothing in places ; here and there 

 the flashes break up from time to time into innumerable 

 points of light ; and little clucking sounds are heard, 

 like the popping of corks at a distance, or the fall of 

 hailstones on a pond. Shall he risk putting out more 

 nets ? By this time they must have drifted to a safe 

 depth away from the sharp rocks that would make havoc 

 of the gear. Why should he have only three when the 

 boat will stand a dozen or more ? 



"Hullo! Blue light to leVard! May happen the 

 Argyle 's made a strike," says one of the men ; and every- 

 one looks in the direction indicated, where, among the 

 sparse train or group of yellow mast-head lights, one blue 

 flame stands conspicuous. 



The skipper still watches the little islands of foam, 

 making up his mind that he too will soon be in a position 

 to run up a blue light, and gives the word to haul in the 



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