CHAP, vi.] SHOOTING THE NETS. 2()5 



against the darkening eastern sky the thousand sails of the 

 herring-fleet blaze like sheets of flame. The shore becomes 

 more and more indistinct, and the beetling cliffs assume fan- 

 tastic and weird shapes, whilst the moaning waters rush into 

 deep cavernous recesses with a wild and monotonous sough, 

 that falls on the ear with a deeper and a deeper melancholy, 

 broken only by the shrill wail of the herring-gull. A dull 

 hot haze settles on the scene, through which the coppery rays 

 of the sun penetrate, powerless to cast a shadow. The scene 

 grows more and more picturesque as the glowing sails of the 

 fleet fade into grey specks dimly seen. Anon the breeze 

 freshens and our boat cleaves the water with redoubled speed : 

 we seem to sail farther and farther into the gloom, until the 

 boundary-line between sea and shore becomes lost to the sight 

 We ought to have shot our nets before it became so dark, 

 but our skipper, being anxious to hit upon the right place, so 

 as to save a second shooting, tacked up and down, uncertain 

 where to take up his station. We had studied the move- 

 ments of certain "wise men" of the fishery men who are 

 always lucky, and who find out the fish when others fail ; but 

 our crew became impatient when they began to smell the 

 water, which had an oily gleam upon it indicative of herring, 

 and sent out from the bows of the boat bright phosphorescent 

 sparkles of light. The men several times thought they were 

 right over the fish, but the skipper knew better. At last, after 

 a lengthened cruise, our commander, who had been silent for 

 half-an-hour ? jumped up and called to action. " Up, men, and 

 at 'em," was then the order of the night. The preparations 

 for shooting the nets at once began by our lowering sail. 

 Surrounding us on all sides was to be seen a moving world of 

 boats ; many with their sails down, their nets floating in the 

 water, and their crews at rest, indulging in fitful snatches of 

 sleep. Other boats again were still flitting uneasily about ; 

 their skippers, like our own, anxious to shoot in the best place, 



