150 OUT A-FISHING. 



their feet, nimble enough, however, and wide-awake ; 

 and soon afterwards the herring-fleet melts slowly away 

 upon the horizon, not to reappear until long after the 

 hills have welcomed the first rays of morn. 



Herring-fishing in Loch Boisdale is practised in exactly 

 the same fashion as herring-fishing in Loch Fyne, or off 

 the east coast ; but the reader may not be disinclined to 

 spend another night in quest of the "silver fish," and 

 make acquaintance with a west-country smack. We our- 

 selves have never tried the western waters, but a writer 

 in All the Year Round, who evidently knows them 

 thoroughly, gives us the benefit of his experience in a 

 very graphic and lively fashion, and we propose to avail 

 ourselves of his narrative : 



Imagine yourself, then, on board a west-country smack, 

 running out of Boisdale harbour with the rest of the fleet. 

 It is afternoon, and a nice fresh breeze blows up from the 

 south-west. Crouching in the stern, by the side of the 

 helmsman, you look around with all the interest of a 

 novice. Six brawny fellows, in picturesque attitudes, 

 lounge about the great, broad, open hold, and another is 

 down in the forecastle boiling coffee. It seems a lazy 

 business, so far; but wait ! By sunset we have run fifteen 

 miles up the coast, and are about eight miles east of the 

 Ru Hamish lighthouse ; many of the fleet are still around 

 us, and on the waters their shadows brood like birds. 

 How thick the sea-gulls gather yonder ! Hark ! that plash 

 ahead of the boat was the dive of a solan-goose. That 

 the herrings are hereabouts, and in large numbers, you 

 might be sure, even without the strange, enticing, phos- 

 phorescent light which travels in patches in the water to 

 leeward. And now the whole crew dart into sudden 



