A NOCTURNAL EXPEDITION. 139 



breeze, toss their lanterns to and fro. These gleams are 

 scattered more and more apart as the little fleet gets 

 further out to sea, and each bark pursues its independent 

 route. At last the coast-line is no longer discernible, 

 and the steady light at the harbour-mouth has vanished. 

 We tack hither and thither in the solitude ? uncertain 

 where to take up our position, until our skipper becomes 

 aware of an oily lustre on the water, and a phosphorescent 

 sparkle on each undulating crest, which tell of the 

 presence of the shoal. Then he jumps up, and orders all 

 hands to work. The other boats, warned by the same 

 signs, close in around, and the hoarse wailing cries of 

 the gulls are an indication that they too are coming in 

 search of booty. " Look alive, my men ! Out with the 

 sinker !" Overboard goes yard after yard of net, breadth 

 after breadth, as fast as the men can pay them out, each 

 division being indicated by a large painted bladder, until 

 about a mile of " mesh-work," many feet in depth, is let 

 go ; the further end being shown by the " dog," an 

 inflated skin of considerable size and the general dis- 

 position of the nets being traced by a long zigzag 

 row of bladders, which, as it floats on the waves, and 

 rises and dips with the motion of the tide, resembles 

 nothing so much as the " dorsal ridge " of a great sea- 

 serpent ! 



And now the crew and their passenger may take a 

 quiet sleep, " rocked in the cradle of the deep;" or chant 

 old sea-songs, weird and strange ; or muse on the mysteries 

 of the sea, and the countless stories of romance and 

 enterprise associated with it from the time when Jason 

 and his adventurers embarked in the Argo to the stirring 

 times when Vasco da Gama led his gilded galleys across 



