“Now Billy, you shrimp,” cried David Bright, seizing his son by the collar and giving him a friendly shake that would have been thought severe handling by any but a fisher-boy, “don’t go excitin’ of yourself. You’ll never make a man worth speakin’ of if you can’t keep down your feelin’s.”
But Billy could not keep down his feelings. They were too strong for him. He was naturally of an excitable—what we may call a jovial—jumping—disposition1, and although he had now been some months at sea he had not yet succeeded in crushing down that burst of delight with which he viewed the cod2-end of the great deep-sea net as it was hoisted3 over the side by the power of block and tackle.
“You never trouble yourself about my feelin’s, father, so long’s I do my dooty,” said the boy with native insolence4, as he looked eagerly over the side at the mass of fish which gleamed faintly white as it neared the surface, while he helped with all his little might to draw in the net.
“But I want to teach you more than dooty, my boy,” returned the skipper. “I’ve got to make a man of you. I promised that to your mother, you know. If you want to be a man, you must foller my example—be cool an’ steady.”
“If I’m to foller your example, father, why don’t you let me foller it all round, an’ smoke an’ drink as well?”
“Shut up, you agrawatin’ sinner,” growled5 the skipper. “Heave away, lads. Here, hand me the rope, an’ send aft the tackle.”
By this time the heavy beam had been secured to the side of the vessel6, most of the net hauled in, and the bag, or cod-end, was above the surface filled almost to bursting with upwards7 of a ton of turbots, soles, haddocks, plaice, dabs8, whitings, etcetera, besides several hundredweight of mud, weeds, stones, and oysters9. Sometimes, indeed, this bag does burst, and in one moment all the profit and toil10 of a night’s fishing is lost.
When the skipper had secured a strong rope round the bag and hooked it on to a block and tackle made fast to the rigging, the order was given to heave away, and gradually the ponderous11 mass rose like an oval balloon, or buoy12, over the vessel’s side. When it cleared the rail it was swung inwards and secured in a hanging position, with the lower end sweeping13 the deck as the smack14 rolled from side to side. In all these operations, from the prolonged heaving at the capstan to the hauling in of the net, hand over hand, the men were exerting their great physical powers to the uttermost—almost without a moment’s relaxation—besides being deluged15 at times by spray, which, however, their oiled frocks, long boots, and sou’-westers prevented from quite drenching17 them. But now all danger of loss was over, and they proceeded to liberate18 the fish.
The cod-end had its lower part secured by a strong rope. All that had to be done, therefore, was to untie19 the rope and open the bottom of the net.
It fell to Luke Trevor to do this. Billy was standing20 by in eager expectation. Ned Spivin stood behind him. Now, we have said that Spivin was fond of chaffing his mates and of practical jokes. So was Billy, and between these two, therefore, there was a species of rivalry21.
When Spivin observed that Luke was about to pull out the last loop that held the bag, he shouted in a loud voice of alarm—
“Hallo! Billy, catch hold of this rope, quick!”
Billy turned like a flash of light and seized the rope held out to him. The momentary22 distraction23 was enough. Before he could understand the joke the bottom of the bag opened, the ton-and-a-half, more or less, of fish burst forth24, spread itself over the deck like an avalanche25, swept Billy off his little legs, and almost overwhelmed him, to the immense delight of Spivin, who impudently26 bent27 down and offered to help him to rise.
“Come here, Billy, and I’ll help you up,” he said, kindly28, as the tail of a skate flipped29 across the boy’s nose and almost slid into his mouth.
Billy made no reply, but, clearing himself of fish, jumped up, seized a gaping30 cod by the gills, and sent it all alive and kicking straight into Spivin’s face. The aim was true. The man was blinded for a few moments by the fish, and his mates were well-nigh choked with laughter.
“Come, come—no sky-larking!” growled the skipper. “Play when your work is done, boys.”
Thus reproved, the crew began to clear away the mass of weeds and refuse, after which all hands prepared the trawl to be ready for going down again, and then they set to work to clean and sort the fish. This was comparatively easy work at that season of the year, but when winter gales31 and winter frosts sweep over the North Sea, only those who suffer it know what it is to stand on the slimy pitching deck with naked and benumbed hands, disembowelling fish and packing them in small oblong boxes called “trunks,” for the London market. And little do Londoners think, perhaps, when eating their turbot, sole, plaice, cod, haddock, whiting, or other fish, by what severe night-work, amid bitter cold, and too often tremendous risks, the food has been provided for them.
It is not, however, our purpose to moralise just now, though we might do so with great propriety33, but to tell our story, on which some of the seemingly trifling34 incidents of that night had a special bearing. One of those incidents was the cutting of a finger. Ned Spivin, whose tendency towards fun and frolic at all times rendered him rather slap-dash and careless, was engaged in the rather ignoble35 work of cutting off skates’ tails—these appendages36 not being deemed marketable. This operation he performed with a hatchet37, but some one borrowed the hatchet for a few minutes, and Spivin continued the operation with his knife. One of the tails being tough, and the knife blunt, the impatient man used violence. Impatience38 and violence not unfrequently result in damage. The tail gave way unexpectedly, and Spivin cut a deep gash39 in his left hand. Cuts, gashes40, and bruises41 are the frequent experience of smacksmen. Spivin bound up the gash with a handkerchief, and went on with his work.
Before their work was quite done, however, a gale32, which had been threatening from the nor’-west, set in with considerable force, and rapidly increased, so that the packing of the last few trunks, and stowing them into the hold, became a matter not only of difficulty but of danger.
By that time the sky had clouded over, and the lantern in the rigging alone gave light.
“It will blow harder,” said Trevor to Billy as they stood under shelter of the weather bulwarks43 holding on to the shrouds44. “Does it never come into your mind to think where we would all go to if the Evening Star went down?”
“No, Luke. I can’t say as it does. Somehow I never think of father’s smack goin’ down.”
“And yet,” returned Luke in a meditative45 tone, “it may happen, you know, any night. It’s not six months since the Raven46 went down, with all hands, though she was as tight a craft as any in the fleet, and her captain was a first-rate seaman47, besides bein’ steady.”
“Ay, but then, you see,” said Billy, “she was took by three heavy seas one arter the other, and no vessel, you know, could stand that.”
“No, not even the Evening Star if she was took that fashion, an’ we never know when it’s goin’ to happen. I suspect, Billy, that the psalm-singers, as Gunter calls ’em, has the best of it. They work as well as any men in the fleet—sometimes I think better—an’ then they’re always in such a jolly state o’ mind! If good luck comes, they praise God for it, an’ if bad luck comes they praise God that it’s no worse. Whatever turns up they appear to be in a thankful state o’ mind, and that seems to me a deal better than growlin’, swearin’, and grumblin’, as so many of us do at what we can’t change. What d’ee think, Billy?”
“Well, to tell ’ee the truth, Luke, I don’t think about it at all—anyhow, I’ve never thought about it till to-night.”
“But it’s worth thinkin’ about, Billy?”
“That’s true,” returned the boy, who was of a naturally straightforward48 disposition, and never feared to express his opinions freely.
Just then a sea rose on the weather quarter, threatening, apparently49, to fall inboard. So many waves had done the same thing before, that no one seemed to regard it much; but the experienced eye of the skipper noticed a difference, and he had barely time to give a warning shout when the wave rushed over the side like a mighty50 river, and swept the deck from stem to stern. Many loose articles were swept away and lost, and the boat which lay on the deck alongside of the mast, had a narrow escape. Billy and his friend Luke, being well under the lee of the bulwarks, escaped the full force of the deluge16, but Ned Spivin, who steered51, was all but torn from his position, though he clung with all his strength to the tiller and the rope that held it fast. The skipper was under the partial shelter of the mizzenmast, and clung to the belaying-pins. John Gunter was the only one who came to grief. He was dashed with great violence to leeward53, but held on to the shrouds for his life. The mate was below at the moment and so was Zulu, whose howl coming from the cabin, coupled with a hiss55 of water in the fire, told that he had suffered from the shock.
The immense body of water that filled the main-sail threw the vessel for a short time nearly on her beam-ends—a position that may be better understood when we say that it converts one of the sides of the vessel into the floor, the other side into the ceiling, and the floor and deck respectively into upright walls!
Fortunately the little smack got rid of the water in a few seconds, arose slowly, and appeared to shake herself like a duck rising out of the sea. Sail had already been reduced to the utmost; nevertheless, the wind was so strong that for three hours afterwards the crew never caught sight of the lee-bulwarks, so buried were they in foam56 as the Evening Star leaned over and rushed madly on her course.
Towards morning the wind moderated a little, and then the crew gazed anxiously around on the heaving grey waves, for well did they know that such a squall could not pass over the North Sea without claiming its victims.
“It blowed that ’ard at one time,” said Ned Spivin to Joe Davidson, “that I expected to see the main-mast tore out of ’er.”
“I’m afeard for the Rainbow,” said Joe. “She’s nothin’ better than a old bunch o’ boards.”
“Sometimes them old things hold out longer than we expect,” returned Ned.
He was right. When the losses of that night came to be reckoned up, several good vessels57 were discovered to be missing, but the rotten old Rainbow still remained undestroyed though not unscathed, and a sad sight met the eyes of the men of the fleet when daylight revealed the fact that some of the smacks42 had their flags flying half-mast, indicating that many men had been washed overboard and lost during the night.
As the day advanced, the weather improved, and the fishermen began to look anxiously out for the steamer which was to convey their fish to market, but none was to be seen. Although a number of steamers run between Billingsgate and the Short Blue fleet, it sometimes happens that they do not manage to find the fleet at once, and occasionally a day or more is lost in searching for it—to the damage of the fish if the weather be warm. It seemed as if a delay of this kind had happened on the occasion of which we write; the admiral therefore signalled to let down the nets for a day haul.
While this was being done, a vessel was seen to join the fleet from the westward58.
“That’s Singin’ Peter,” said David Bright to his mate. “I’d know his rig at any distance.”
“So it is. P’raps he’s got letters for us.”
Singing Peter was one of the many fishermen who had been brought to a knowledge of Jesus Christ and saved from his sins. Wild and careless before conversion59, he afterwards became an enthusiastic follower60 of the Lamb of God, and was so fond of singing hymns61 in His praise that he became known in the fleet by the sobriquet62 of Singing Peter. His beaming face and wholly changed life bore testimony63 to what the Holy Spirit had wrought64 in him.
Peter had been home to Gorleston on his week of holiday, and had now returned to the fleet for his eight weeks’ fishing-cruise, carrying a flag to show that he had just arrived, bringing letters and clothes, etcetera, for some of the crews.
“I used to think Peter warn’t a bad feller,” said David Bright, as the new arrival drew near; “he was always good company, an’ ready for his glass, but now he’s taken to singin’ psalms65, I can make nothin’ of ’im.”
“There’s them in the fleet that like him better since he took to that,” said Luke Trevor.
“It may be so, lad, but that’s not accordin’ to my taste,” retorted the skipper.
David was, however, by no means a surly fellow. When Peter’s vessel came within hail, he held up his hand and shouted—
“What cheer! what cheer, Peter!” as heartily66 as possible.
Singing Peter held up his hand in reply, and waved it as he shouted back—
“What cheer! All well, praise the Lord!”
“D’ye hear that Billy?” said Luke, in a low voice. “He never forgets to praise the Lord.”
When the vessels drew nearer, Peter again waved his hand, and shouted—
“I’ve got letters for ’ee.”
“All right my hearty67! I’ll send for ’em.”
In less than five minutes the boat of the Evening Star was launched over the side, stern-foremost, and she had scarce got fairly afloat on the dancing waves when Joe and Luke “swarmed” into her, had the oars68 out and were sweeping off so as to intercept69 Peter’s vessel They soon reached her, received a packet wrapped up in a bit of newspaper, and quickly returned.
The packet contained two letters—one for the skipper, the other for the mate—from their respective wives.
“Joe,” said the skipper, when he had perused70 his letter, “come down below. I want to speak to ’ee.”
“That’s just what I was goin’ to say to yourself, for the letter from my missis says somethin’ that consarns you.”
When master and mate were alone together in the cabin, each read to the other his letter.
“My missis,” said the skipper, unfolding his letter and regarding it with a puzzled expression, “although she’s had a pretty good edication, has paid little attention to her pot-hooks—but this is how it runs—pretty near. ‘Dear old man,’ (she’s always been an affectionate woman, Joe, though I do treat her badly when I’m in liquor), ‘I hope you are having a good time of it and that darling Billy likes the sea, and is a good boy. My reason for writing just now is to tell you about that dear sweet creature, Miss Ruth Dotropy. She has been down at Yarmouth again on a visit, and of course she has been over to see me and Mrs Davidson, in such a lovely blue—’ (ah! well, Joe, there’s no need to read you that bit; it’s all about dress—as if dress could make Miss Ruth better or worse! But women’s minds will run on ribbons an’ suchlike. Well, after yawin’ about for a bit, she comes back to the pint71, an’ steers72 a straight course again. She goes on, after a blot73 or two that I can’t make nothin’ of), ‘You’ll be surprised to hear, David, that she’s been making some particular inquiries74 about you and me; which I don’t understand at all, and looking as if she knew a deal more than she cared to tell. She’s been asking Mrs Davidson too about it, and what puzzles me most is—’ There’s another aggrawatin’ blot here, Joe, so that I can’t make out what puzzles her. Look here. Can you spell it out?”
Joe tried, but shook his head.
“It’s a puzzler to her,” he said, “an’ she’s took good care to make it a puzzler to everybody else, but go on.”
“There’s nothin’ else to go on wi’, Joe, for after steerin’ past the blot, she runs foul75 o’ Miss Ruth’s dress again, and the only thing worth mentionin’ is a post-script, where she says, ‘I think there’s something wrong, dear David, and I wish you was here.’ That’s all.”
“Now, that is strange, for my missis writes about the wery same thing,” said Joe, “only she seems to have gone in for a little more confusion an’ blots76 than your missis, an’ that blessed little babby of ours is always gittin’ in the way, so she can’t help runnin’ foul of it, but that same puzzler crops up every now an’ then. See, here’s what she writes:—
“‘Darlin’ Joe,’ (a touch more affectionate than yours—eh! skipper?) ‘if our dear darlin’ babby will let me, I’m a-goin’ to write you a letter—there, I know’d she wouldn’t. She’s bin54 and capsized the wash-tub, though, as you know, she can’t walk yet, but she rolls about most awful, Joe, just what you say the Evening Star does in a gale on the North Sea. An’ she’s got most dreadful heels—oh! you’ve no idear! Whativer they comes down upon goes—’ There’s a big blot here,” said Joe, with a puzzled look, “‘goes—whativer they comes down upon goes—’ No, I can’t make it out.”
“‘Goes to sticks an’ stivers,’ p’raps,” said the skipper.
“No, my Maggie never uses words like that,” said Joe with decision.
“‘Goes all to smash,’ then,” suggested the skipper.
“No, nor it ain’t that; my Maggie’s too soft-tongued for that.”
“Well, you know, things must go somewhere, or somehow, Joe, when such a pair o’ heels comes down on ’em—but steer52 clear o’ the blot and the babby, an’ see what comes next.”
“‘Well,’” continued Joe, reading on, “‘I was goin’ to tell you, when babby made that last smash, (“I told you it was a smash,” said David, softly), that dear Miss Ruth has bin worritin’ herself—if babby would only keep quiet for two minutes—worritin’ herself about Mrs Bright in a way that none of us can understand. She’s anxious to make inquiries about her and her affairs in a secret sort o’ way, but the dear young lady is so honest—there’s babby again! Now, I’ve got her all right. It was the milk-can this time, but there warn’t much in it, an’ the cat’s got the benefit. Well, darlin’ Joe, where was I—oh, the dear young lady’s so honest an’ straitfor’ard, that even a child could see through her, though none of us can make out what she’s drivin’ at. Yesterday she went to see Mrs Bright, an’ took a liar77 with her—’”
“Hallo! Joe, surely she’d niver do that,” said the skipper in a remonstrative78 tone.
“She means a lawyer,” returned Joe, apologetically, “but Maggie niver could spell that word, though I’ve often tried to teach ’er—‘Maggie,’ says I, ‘you mustn’t write liar, but law-yer.’
“‘La! yer jokin’,’ says she.
“‘No,’ says I, ‘I’m not, that’s the way to spell it,’ an’ as Maggie’s a biddable lass, she got to do it all right, but her memory ain’t over strong, so, you see, she’s got back to the old story. Howsever, she don’t really mean it, you know.”
“Just so,” returned the skipper, “heave ahead wi’ the letter, Joe.”
Knitting his brows, and applying himself to the much-soiled and crumpled79 sheet, the mate continued to read:—
“‘An’ the liar he puzzled her with all sorts o’ questions, just as if he was a schoolmaster and she a school-girl. He bothered her to that extent she began to lose temper, (“he better take care,” muttered the skipper, chuckling), but Miss Ruth she sees that, an’ putt a stop to it in her own sweet way, (“lucky for the liar,” muttered the skipper), an’ so they went away without explainin’. We’ve all had a great talk over it, an’ we’re most of us inclined to think—oh! that babby, she’s bin an rammed80 her darlin’ futt into the tar-bucket! but it ain’t much the worse, though it’s cost about half-a-pound o’ butter to take it off, an’ that ain’t a joke wi’ butter at 1 shilling, 4 pence a pound, an’ times so bad—well, as I was goin’ to say, if that blessed babby would only let me, we’re all inclined to think it must have somethin’ to do wi’ that man as David owes money to, who said last year that he’d sell his smack an’ turn him an’ his family out o’ house an’ home if he didn’t pay up, though what Miss Ruth has to do wi’ that, or how she come for to know it we can’t make out at all.’”
“The blackguard!” growled the skipper, fiercely, referring to ‘that man,’ “if I only had his long nose within three futt o’ my fist, I’d let him feel what my knuckles81 is made of!”
“Steamer in sight, father,” sang out Billy at that moment down the companion-hatch.
The conference being thus abruptly82 terminated, the skipper and mate of the Evening Star went on deck to give orders for the immediate83 hauling up of the trawl and to “have a squint” at the steamer, which was seen at that moment like a little cloud on the horizon.
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1
disposition
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| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
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cod
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| n.鳕鱼；v.愚弄；哄骗 | |
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3
hoisted
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| 把…吊起，升起( hoist的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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insolence
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| n.傲慢；无礼；厚颜；傲慢的态度 | |
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growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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vessel
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| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
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upwards
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| adv.向上，在更高处...以上 | |
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dabs
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| 少许( dab的名词复数 )； 是…能手； 做某事很在行； 在某方面技术熟练 | |
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oysters
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| 牡蛎( oyster的名词复数 ) | |
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toil
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| vi.辛劳工作，艰难地行动；n.苦工，难事 | |
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ponderous
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| adj.沉重的，笨重的，(文章)冗长的 | |
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buoy
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| n.浮标；救生圈；v.支持，鼓励 | |
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sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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smack
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| vt.拍，打，掴；咂嘴；vi.含有…意味；n.拍 | |
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deluged
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| v.使淹没( deluge的过去式和过去分词 )；淹没；被洪水般涌来的事物所淹没；穷于应付 | |
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deluge
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| n./vt.洪水，暴雨，使泛滥 | |
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drenching
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| n.湿透v.使湿透( drench的现在分词 )；在某人（某物）上大量使用（某液体） | |
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liberate
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| v.解放，使获得自由，释出，放出；vt.解放，使获自由 | |
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untie
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| vt.解开，松开；解放 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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rivalry
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| n.竞争，竞赛，对抗 | |
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momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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distraction
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| n.精神涣散，精神不集中，消遣，娱乐 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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avalanche
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| n.雪崩，大量涌来 | |
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impudently
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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flipped
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| 轻弹( flip的过去式和过去分词 )； 按（开关）； 快速翻转； 急挥 | |
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gaping
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| adj.口的；张口的；敞口的；多洞穴的v.目瞪口呆地凝视( gape的现在分词 )；张开，张大 | |
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gales
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| 龙猫 | |
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gale
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| n.大风，强风，一阵闹声（尤指笑声等） | |
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propriety
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| n.正当行为；正当；适当 | |
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trifling
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| adj.微不足道的；没什么价值的 | |
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ignoble
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| adj.不光彩的，卑鄙的；可耻的 | |
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appendages
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| n.附属物( appendage的名词复数 )；依附的人；附属器官；附属肢体（如臂、腿、尾等） | |
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hatchet
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| n.短柄小斧；v.扼杀 | |
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impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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39
gash
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| v.深切，划开；n.(深长的)切(伤)口；裂缝 | |
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gashes
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| n.深长的切口（或伤口）( gash的名词复数 )v.划伤，割破( gash的第三人称单数 ) | |
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bruises
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| n.瘀伤，伤痕，擦伤( bruise的名词复数 ) | |
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42
smacks
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| 掌掴（声）( smack的名词复数 )； 海洛因； （打的）一拳； 打巴掌 | |
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43
bulwarks
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| n.堡垒( bulwark的名词复数 )；保障；支柱；舷墙 | |
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shrouds
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| n.裹尸布( shroud的名词复数 )；寿衣；遮蔽物；覆盖物v.隐瞒( shroud的第三人称单数 )；保密 | |
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meditative
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| adj.沉思的，冥想的 | |
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raven
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| n.渡鸟，乌鸦；adj.乌亮的 | |
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seaman
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| n.海员，水手，水兵 | |
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straightforward
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| adj.正直的，坦率的；易懂的，简单的 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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51
steered
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| v.驾驶( steer的过去式和过去分词 )；操纵；控制；引导 | |
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52
steer
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| vt.驾驶，为…操舵；引导；vi.驾驶 | |
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53
leeward
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| adj.背风的；下风的 | |
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54
bin
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| n.箱柜；vt.放入箱内；[计算机] DOS文件名:二进制目标文件 | |
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55
hiss
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| v.发出嘶嘶声；发嘘声表示不满 | |
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56
foam
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| v./n.泡沫，起泡沫 | |
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vessels
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| n.血管( vessel的名词复数 )；船；容器；（具有特殊品质或接受特殊品质的）人 | |
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westward
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| n.西方，西部；adj.西方的，向西的；adv.向西 | |
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conversion
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| n.转化，转换，转变 | |
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60
follower
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| n.跟随者；随员；门徒；信徒 | |
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61
hymns
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| n.赞美诗，圣歌，颂歌( hymn的名词复数 ) | |
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62
sobriquet
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| n.绰号 | |
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testimony
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| n.证词；见证，证明 | |
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wrought
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| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
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psalms
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| n.赞美诗( psalm的名词复数 )；圣诗；圣歌；(中的) | |
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heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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oars
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| n.桨，橹( oar的名词复数 )；划手v.划（行）( oar的第三人称单数 ) | |
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intercept
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| vt.拦截，截住，截击 | |
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perused
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| v.读（某篇文字）( peruse的过去式和过去分词 )；（尤指）细阅；审阅；匆匆读或心不在焉地浏览（某篇文字） | |
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pint
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| n.品脱 | |
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steers
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| n.阉公牛，肉用公牛( steer的名词复数 )v.驾驶( steer的第三人称单数 )；操纵；控制；引导 | |
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73
blot
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| vt.弄脏（用吸墨纸）吸干；n.污点，污渍 | |
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inquiries
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| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
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foul
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| adj.污秽的；邪恶的；v.弄脏；妨害；犯规；n.犯规 | |
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76
blots
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| 污渍( blot的名词复数 )； 墨水渍； 错事； 污点 | |
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liar
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| n.说谎的人 | |
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remonstrative
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| adj.抗议的，忠告的 | |
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crumpled
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| adj. 弯扭的, 变皱的 动词crumple的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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rammed
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| v.夯实（土等）( ram的过去式和过去分词 )；猛撞；猛压；反复灌输 | |
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81
knuckles
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| n.（指人）指关节( knuckle的名词复数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝v.（指人）指关节( knuckle的第三人称单数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝 | |
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82
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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