140 " HOME AGAIN." 



the unknown waters to "far Cathay;" or they may 

 watch the first faint coming of the day as the gray light 

 breaks upon the eastern horizon. The skipper, however, 

 is on the watch, for as the herring-fleet moves onward with 

 wind and tide, his nets may become entangled with those 

 of other fishermen, or be torn by a passing boat. At last 

 the time comes for hauling in the nets ; the bobbing 

 down of some of the bladders, and other signs perceptible 

 to the initiated, demonstrating the welcome fact that our 

 labour has not been in vain. The men haul in the 

 swing-rope with a will. The coiled net- work soon 

 reaches the boat's side. " In with them, men !" Breadth 

 after breadth is tumbled on board, and the quivering fish, 

 each flashing like an arrow of silver, are shot to the 

 bottom of the boat, there to breathe their last feeble 

 gasp. We calculate our cargo at forty crans ; not an 

 excessive one, yet by no means to be despised. 



And now the sail is hoisted ; the boat's head is put 

 about, and we steer for the distant harbour. When we 

 reach the shore, all the lights are out ; the glow of day 

 is upon the landscape, and illumines the green hills and 

 the leafy woods and the picturesque outline of the rocky 

 coast. The quay is thronged with spectators, who wel- 

 come each loaded boat as it arrives with obvious interest. 

 But such is not always the cheering spectacle. After a 

 stormy night, pale faces will be there with anxious eyes, 

 straining to catch sight of the boat of husband, son, or 

 brother : the boat, perchance, that never comes ; that 

 during the darkness has gone down with all on board ; 

 or that, if it comes, comes with battered sides and canvas 

 rent and lost nets, a messenger of poverty, suffering, and 

 want. 



