OSSEOUS FISHES. 
577 
close to the surface. The men who manage this net are called ' regu- 
lar sewers.’ The boat is first of all rowed inside the seine-net, and 
laid close to the seine-boat, which remains stationary outside. To its 
bows one rope at the end of the tuck-net is fastened. The tuck-boat 
now slowly makes the inner circle of the seine, the smaller net being 
dropped overboard, and attached to the seine at intervals as she goes. 
To prevent the fish from getting between the two nets during the 
operation, they are frightened into the middle of the enclosure by 
beating the water with oars, and stones fastened to ropes. When the 
‘ tuck ’ has at length travelled round the whole circle of the ‘ seine,’ 
and is securely fastened to the seine-boat at the end as it was at the 
beginning, everything is prepared for the great event of the day — 
hauling the fish to the surface. 
“ Now all is excitement on sea and shore ; every little boat in the 
place puts off, crammed with idle spectators ; boys shout, dogs bark, 
and the shrill voices of the former are joined by the deep voices of the 
‘ seiners.’ There they stand, six or eight stalwart, sun-burnt fellows, 
ranged in a row in the seme-boat, hauling with all their might at the 
‘ tuck ’-net, and roaring out the nautical ‘ Yo, heave ho 1’ in chorus. 
Higher and higher rises the net ; louder and louder shout the boys 
and the idlers ; the ‘ huer,’ so calm and collected hitherto, loses his 
self-possession, and waves his cap triumphantly. ‘ Hooray ! hooray 1 
Yoy — hoy, hoy ! Pull away, boys ! Up she comes ! Here they 
are 1’ The water boils and eddies ; the ‘ tuck ’-not rises to the surface ; 
one teeming, convulsed mass of shining, glancing, silvery scales ; one 
compact mass of thousands of fish, each one of which is madly striving 
to escape, appears in an instant. Boats as large as barges now pull 
up, in hot haste, all round the nets, baskets are produced by dozens, 
the fish are dipped up in them, and shot out, like coals out of a sack, 
into the boats. Presently the men are ankle-deep in pilchards ; they 
jump upon the benches, and work on till the boats can hold no more. 
They are almost gunwale under before they loave for the shore.” 
In the process of curing, the scene becomes doubly, picturesque, but 
this is shore-work, with which our space forbids us to deal. 
“ Some idea of the almost incalculable multitude of pilchards caught 
on the Cornwall shores,” says Mr. Collins, “ may be gathered from 
the following data : At the small fishing cove of Trereen six hundred 
hogsheads were taken in little more than a week, during August, 
2 p 
