154 A SCENE AT WICK. 



But the boats arrive, and drop alongside the quay ; and 

 in less than an hour we are surrounded by herring. 

 Herring seems to fill the air, as it certainly occupies the 

 mind of every Wickian. Yonder we see innumerable 

 basketfuls being poured into the huge gutting-troughs, and 

 in another direction basketfuls, also innumerable, are being 

 carried from the three to four hundred boats moored on 

 that particular side of the harbour; and behind the 

 troughs more basketfuls are being conveyed to the 

 packers. For, as the reader knows, the herring is sent 

 to market either fresh or cured ; and those intended for 

 immediate consumption are packed as rapidly as possible, 

 and removed to the railway station. 



All around, the atmosphere is humid ; the sailors are 

 dripping, the herring gutters and packers are dripping, 

 the spectators are dripping; everything and every per- 

 son appears wet and comfortless ; and as you wander 

 along you splash into lakes and rivers of brine. 



Meantime, the bright scaly fish are being shovelled 

 about in the large shallow troughs with immense wooden 

 spades, and without ceremony. Strong, dour-looking 

 men pour them from the baskets on their shoulders into 

 the aforesaid troughs ; and other stalwart, dour-looking 

 men dash them about with more wooden spades, and then 

 sprinkle salt over each new quota as it is poured in, till 

 a sufficient quantity has accumulated to warrant the 

 commencement of the important operation of gutting and 

 packing. 



Men are hurrying about with note-books, in which 

 ever and anon they record mysterious computations. 

 Carts, filled with dripping nets, convey them to the 

 " links " and fields to dry. In all directions are piled 



