168 THE SALT OF MY LIFE 



the Neva. They hold themselves aloof from the 

 political quarrels entered into by both France and 

 Spain, and at a time 'when none too friendly rela- 

 tions existed between either of those Powers and 

 England, the Basques were uniformly courteous. 

 With my three knaves I went out more than 

 once after the first essay, always making a good 

 catch of whiting, never, strangely enough, hooking 

 any other kind of fish. Gitouche, as the only one 

 who spoke French a French, beside which that 

 of " Stratford- atte-Bow " was the pure verna- 

 cular of the Faubourgs alone had the distinction 

 of conversing with the guest, but among them- 

 selves they were loquacious, talking that curious 

 Basque patois with so much gesticulation and 

 heat that more than once they seemed on the 

 verge of a quarrel that could only end with knives. 

 Appearances, however, were deceptive, and it 

 was one morning when they seemed as harmon- 

 ious as kittens purring in a basket that the patron 

 suddenly brandished a tiller handle and with it 

 fetched Prospere a blow over the kneecap that 

 made him squeal. Justice having been done, he 

 calmly removed his goggles and breathed on them, 

 doubtless to ensure yet better aim on the next 

 occasion. It was evident that Prospere had pro- 

 voked this sally, for he made no attempt to 

 retaliate, but merely went on fishing with a 

 subdued chuckle, as if, whether his kneecap were 



