190 HAULING IN THE NETS. 



were still flitting imeasily about ; their skippers, like our own, 

 anxious to shoot in the best place, but as yet uncertain where 

 to cast : they wait till they see indications of fish in other nets. 

 By and by we are ourselves ready, the sinker goes splash into 

 the water, the " dog " (a large bladder, or inflated skin of some 

 kind, to mark the far end of the train) is heaved overboard, and 

 the nets, breadth after breadth, follow as fast as the men can 

 pay them out (each division being marked by a large painted 

 bladder), till the immense train sinks into the water, forming a 

 perforated wall a mile long and many feet in depth ; the " dog " 

 and the marking bladders floating and dipping in a long zigzag 

 line, reminding one of the imaginary coUs of the great sea-- 

 serpent. 



Wrapped in the folds of a sail and rocked by the heaving 

 waves we tried in vain to snatch a brief nap, though those who 

 are accustomed to such beds can sleep well enough in a herring- 

 boat. The skipper, too, slept with one eye open ; for the boat 

 being his property, and the'risk all Ms, he required to look about 

 him, as the nets are apt to become entangled with those belong- 

 ing to other fishermen, or to be torn away by surrounding boats. 

 After three hours' quietude, beneath a beautiful sky, the 

 stars— 



"Those eternal orbs that beautify the night " — "J 



began to pale their fires, and the grey dawn appearing indicated 

 that it was time to take stock. On reckoning up we found that 

 we had floated gently with the tide till we were a long distance 

 away from the harbour. The skipper had a presentiment that 

 there were fish in his nets ; indeed the bobbing down of a few of 

 the bladders had made it almost a certainty; at any rate we re- 

 solved to examine the drift, and see if there were any fish. It 

 was a moment of suspense, while, by means of the swing-rope, the 

 boat was hauled up to the nets. " Hurrah !" at last exclaimed 

 Murdoch of the Isle of Skye, " there's a lot of fish, skipper, and 

 no mistake." Murdoch's news was true ; our nets were silvery 

 with herrings— so laden, in fact, that it took a long time to 

 haul them in. It was a beautiful sight to see the shimmering 

 fish as they came up like a sheet of silver from the water, each 

 uttering a weak death-chirp as it was flung to the bottom of the 

 boat. Formerly the fish were left in the meshes of the nets tiQ 

 the boat arrived in the harbour ; but now, as the net is hauled- 

 on board, they are at once shaken out. As our silvery treasure 



