MY OLD BOAT 75 



tar boiling. She built a fireplace of stones beside the 

 boat, she lit the fire of twigs and set the tar-pot on 

 it, and scrambled up the hill to gather fuel, and 

 scrambled down again with brushwood packed in 

 the hood of her smock and broken branches clasped 

 in her arms ; she stirred the tar with a barrel-stave ; 

 she even helped to smear it on the seams. 



The smoke of the fire came drifting past my 

 window ; the smell of tar was everywhere, both in 

 the house and out. The whole village seemed to 

 be collecting on the beach, and I joined the crowd 

 that had gathered and watched the old people 

 plastering. Kornelius had a tar-brush, borrowed 

 from the storekeeper ; Maria plied a barrel-stave ; 

 and we all stood gravely watching. Within an hour 

 the patchwork boat was shining all over with its new 

 black coat, and the proud owners were at the brook, 

 with soap and sand and oil, scraping some of the 

 stains from their hands and clothes. 



Later in the day, when the tide was rising, a knot 

 of men and boys, with shouts of " Atte, aksuse " 

 (Be strong, all together), dragged the old boat 

 down the beach to the water ; and in the morning I 

 watched old Kornelius and his devoted Maria 

 making ready for another raid upon the codfish on 

 the banks by Sungolik. 



And so my old boat went back to the fishing. 



