STEAM, THE CONQUEROR 145 



The skipper gives the order and word of en- 

 couragement. 



" Hey ! Hey ! Hey ! " he sings. 



" High up ! " he shouts encouragingly. 



Then "Set back on him!" and "Now again!" 



There is panting and strenuous heaving. 



" And again ! " followed by steady tugging and 

 pulling at the sodden heavy gear. 



This is the slow, laborious man-handling of the 

 trawl which still exists, despite all that steam has done 

 for mortal man on North Sea banks. 



" Up ! " The word of command rises gruffly in the 

 darkness, with its luminous patches from the big-wicked 

 paraffin lamps on deck and verandah. 



" All together ! Oh ! Ho ! Ho, oh, ho ! " 



There is hardly a breathing-space before the skipper 

 shouts, " Go on again. Up ! Up, up, up ! " Then 

 there seems to be a desperate and final scrimmage 

 with the gear, and you wonder whether it will ever 

 be got on or above the deck. Suddenly the conflict 

 ceases, there is a strange sizzling of water, a swift 

 unlashing of what seems to be a complicated knot, 

 and then the slither and clatter of falling masses of 

 fish. There is at once a greater splash and clash, 

 for the gear is overboard again, and the trawl, which 

 has scarcely rested, is scooping up and collecting 

 more fish. 



You have heard the curt command, " Right over ! " 

 and the next you know is that men are knee-deep in 

 pounds of slithering fish and that gutting-knives are 

 being fiercely plied. However often you may see 

 that special sight, it never loses its awful fascination, 



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