FISHERMEN IN WAR TIME 



" Muckle Sanny Fite," replied the stranger, 

 illuminatingly. 



" Filk Muckle Sanny Fite?" persisted the 

 native, impatiently. 



" Muckle lang Sanny Fite," answered the in- 

 quirer, desperately. 



" Filk muckle lang Sanny Fite?" demanded the 

 girl, remorselessly. 



" Muckle lang gleyed Sanny Fite!" shouted the 

 man, as a forlorn hope. 



" Oh !" exclaimed the informant contemptuously. 

 "It's ' Goup-the-Lift ' ye' re seekin'— an' fat for 

 dinna ye speer for the man by his richt name at 

 ance?" 



In war-time the fisherman maintained the cus- 

 toms which he had loved in times of peace, and at 

 naval bases to which he was attached he could be 

 seen, especially on Sundays, wandering in under- 

 standing companionship about the quays, or docks, 

 or streets, but never far from his vessel, which held 

 him like a magnet. She was there, right enough, 

 often looking as if she would remain undisturbed 

 until many wars had ended ; but the uniformed bands 

 soon reappeared, took reassurance of the actual con- 

 tinued presence of the little ship, and strolled away 

 again, or gazed in meditation at the familiar floating 

 object. 



" I don't know the place, and I can't tell you 

 anything about it," said a skipper at a base, answer- 

 ing a question as to guidance. " Besides, I'm only 

 just in from the Mediterranean. I could tell you 



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