Bustling1 activity of the most vigorous kind was now the order of the day in the Short Blue fleet, for the arrival of the carrying-steamer, and the fact that she was making towards the admiral, indicated that she meant to return to London in a few hours, and necessitated2 the hauling of the trawls, cleaning the fish, and packing them; getting up the “trunks” that had been packed during the night, launching the boats, and trans-shipping them in spite of the yet heavy sea.
As every one may understand, such perishable3 food as fish must be conveyed to market with the utmost possible despatch4. This is accomplished5 by the constant running of fast steamers between the fleets and the Thames. The fish when put on board are further preserved by means of ice, and no delay is permitted in trans-shipment. As we have said, the steamers are bound to make straight for the admiral’s smack6. Knowing this, the other vessels7 keep as near to the admiral as they conveniently can, so that when the steamer is preparing to return, they may be ready to rush at her like a fleet of nautical9 locusts10, and put their fish on board.
Hot haste and cool precision mark the action of the fishermen in all that is done, for they know well that only a limited time will be allowed them, and if any careless or wilful11 stragglers from the fleet come up when the time is nearly past, they stand a chance of seeing the carrier steam off without their fish, which are thus left to be shipped the following day, and to be sold at last as an inferior article, or, perhaps, condemned12 and thrown away as unfit for human food.
The Evening Star chanced to be not far from the admiral when the steamer appeared. It was one of the fleet of steam-carriers owned by the well-known fish firm of Messrs Hewett and Company of London. When it passed David Bright’s smack the crew had got in the trawl and were cleaning and packing the catch—which was a good one—as if their very lives depended on their speed. They immediately followed in the wake of the carrier toward the admiral.
As all the smacks13 were heading towards the same centre, they came in on every tack14, and from all points of the compass.
“Look sharp, boys,” said David Bright, who was steering15, “we must git every fish aboard. It’s now eight o’clock, an’ she won’t wait beyond eleven or twelve, you may be sure.”
There was no need for the caution. Every man and boy was already doing his utmost.
It fell to Billy’s lot to help in packing the trunks, and deftly16 he did it,—keeping soles, turbot, and halibut separate, to form boxes, or “trunks of prime,” and packing other fish as much as possible according to their kind, until he came to roker, dabs17, gurnets, etcetera, which he packed together under the name of “offal.” This does not mean refuse, but only inferior fish, which are bought by hawkers, and sold to the poor. The trunks were partly open on top, but secured by cords which kept the fish from slipping out, and each trunk was labelled with the name of the smack to which it belonged, and the party to whom it was consigned18.
As the fleet converged19 to the centre, the vessels began to crowd together and friends to recognise and hail each other, so that the scene became very animated20, while the risk of collision was considerable. Indeed, it was only by consummate21 skill, judgment22 and coolness that, in many cases, collisions were avoided.
“There’s the Sparrow,” said Billy to Trevor, eagerly, as he pointed23 to a smack, whose master, Jim Frost, he knew and was fond of. It bore down in such a direction as to pass close under the stern of the Evening Star.
“What cheer! what cheer!” cried Billy, holding one of his little hands high above his head.
“What cheer!” came back in strong, hearty24 tones from the Sparrow’s deck.
“What luck, Jim?” asked David Bright, as the vessel8 flew past.
“We fouled25 an old wreck27 this mornin’, an’ tore the net all to pieces, but we got a good haul last night—praise the Lord.”
“Which piece o’ luck d’ye praise the Lord for?” demanded David, in a scoffing28 tone.
“For both,” shouted Frost, promptly29. “It might have bin30 worse. We might have lost the gear, you know—or one o’ the hands.”
When this reply was finished, the vessels were too far apart for further intercourse31.
“Humph!” ejaculated Gunter, “one o’ the psalm-singin’ lot, I suppose.”
“If it’s the psalm-singin’,” said Spivin, “as makes Jim Frost bear his troubles wi’ good temper, an’ thank God for foul26 weather an’ fair, the sooner you take to it the better for yourself.”
“Ay, an’ for his mates,” added Zulu, with a broad grin.
“Shove out the boat now, lads,” said the skipper.
At this order the capacious and rather clumsy boat, which had hitherto lain on the deck of the Evening Star like a ponderous32 fixture33, was seized by the crew. A vigorous pull at a block and tackle sent it up on the side of the smack. A still more vigorous shove by the men—some with backs applied34, some with arms, and all with a will—sent it stern-foremost into the sea. It took in a few gallons of water by the plunge35, but was none the worse for that.
At the same moment Zulu literally36 tumbled into it. No stepping or jumping into it was possible with the sea that was running. Indeed the fishermen of the North Sea are acrobats37 by necessity, and their tumbling is quite as wonderful, though not quite so neat, as that of professionals. Perchance if the arena38 in which the latter perform were to pitch about as heavily as the Evening Star did on that occasion, they might be beaten at their own work by the fishermen!
Zulu was followed by Ned Spivin, while Gunter, taking a quick turn of the long and strong painter round a belaying-pin, held on.
The Evening Star was now lying-to, not far from the steam-carrier. Her boat danced on the waves like a cork39, pitching heavily from side to side, with now the stern and now the bow pointing to the sky; at one moment leaping with its gunwale above the level of the smack’s bulwarks40; at the next moment eight or ten feet down in the trough of the waves; never at rest for an instant, always tugging42 madly at its tether, and often surging against the vessel’s side, from actual contact with which it was protected by strong rope fenders. But indeed the boat’s great strength of build seemed its best guarantee against damage.
To one unaccustomed to such work it might have seemed utterly43 impossible to put anything whatever on board of such a pitching boat. Tying a mule-pack on the back of a bouncing wild horse may suggest an equivalent difficulty to a landsman. Nevertheless the crew of the Evening Star did it with as much quiet determination and almost as much speed as if there was no sea on at all. Billy and Trevor slid the trunks to the vessel’s side; the mate and Gunter lifted them, rested them a moment on the edge; Zulu and Spivin stood in the surging boat with outstretched arms and glaring eyes. A mighty44 swing of the boat suggested that the little craft meant to run the big one down. They closed, two trunks were grappled, let go, deposited, and before the next wave swung them alongside again, Spivin and Zulu were glaring up—ready for more—while Joe and Gunter were gazing down—ready to deliver.
When the boat was loaded the painter was cast off and she dropped astern. The oars45 were shipped, and they made for the steamer. From the low deck of the smack they could be seen, now pictured against the sky on a wave’s crest46, and then lost to view altogether for a few seconds in the watery47 valley beyond.
By that time quite a crowd of little boats had reached the steamer, and were holding on to her, while their respective smacks lay-to close by, or sailed slowly round the carrier, so that recognitions, salutations, and friendly chaff48 were going on all round—the confusion of masts, and sails, and voices ever increasing as the outlying portions of the fleet came scudding49 in to the rendezvous50.
“There goes the Boy Jim,” said Luke Trevor, pointing towards a smart craft that was going swiftly past them.
“Who’s the Boy Jim?” growled51 Gunter, whose temper, at no time a good one, had been much damaged by the blows he had received in the fall of the previous night.
“He’s nobody—it’s the name o’ that smack,” answered Luke.
“An’ her master, John Johnston, is one o’ my best friends,” said Billy, raising his fist on high in salutation. “What cheer, John! what cheer, my hearty!”
The master of the Boy Jim was seen to raise his hand in reply to the salutation, and his voice came strong and cheerily over the sea, but he was too far off to be heard distinctly, so Billy raised his hand again by way of saying, “All right, my boy!”
At the same time a hail was heard at the other side of the vessel. The crew turned round and crossed the deck.
“It’s our namesake—or nearly so—the Morning Star,” said Trevor to Gunter, for the latter being a new hand knew little of the names of either smacks or masters.
“Is her skipper a friend o’ yours too?” asked Gunter of Billy.
“Yes, Bowers52 is a friend o’ mine—an’ a first-rate fellow too; which is more than you will ever be,” retorted Billy, again stretching up the ready arm and hand. “What cheer, Joseph, what cheer!”
“What cheer! Billy—why, I didn’t know you, you’ve grow’d so much,” shouted the master of the Morning Star, whose middle-sized, but broad and powerful frame was surmounted53 by a massive countenance54, with good humour in the twinkling eyes, and kindly55 chaff often in the goodly-sized mouth.
“Yes, I’ve grow’d,” retorted Billy, “an’ I mean to go on growin’ till I’m big enough to wallop you.”
“Your cheek has been growin’ too, Billy.”
“So it has, but nothin’ like to your jaw56, Joseph.”
“What luck?” shouted David as the Morning Star was passing on.
“Fifteen trunks. What have you got?”
The skipper held up his hand to acknowledge the information, and shouted “nineteen,” in reply.
“You seem to have a lot o’ friends among the skippers, Billy,” said Gunter, with a sneer57, for he was fond of teasing the boy, who, to do him justice, could take chaff well, except when thrown at him by ill-natured fellows.
“Yes, I have a good lot,” retorted Billy. “I met ’em all first in Yarmouth, when ashore58 for their week’s holiday. There’s Joseph White, master of the mission smack Cholmondeley, a splendid feller he is; an’ Bogers of the Cephas, an’ Snell of the Ruth, an’ Kiddell of the Celerity, an’ Moore of the M.A.A., an’ Roberts of the Magnet, an’ Goodchild and Brown, an’ a lot more, all first-rate fellers, whose little fingers are worth the whole o’ your big body.”
“Well, well, what a lucky fellow you are!” said Gunter, with affected59 surprise; “an’ have you no bad fellers at all among your acquaintance?”
“Oh yes,” returned the boy quickly, “I knows a good lot o’ them too. There’s Dick the Swab, of the White Cloud, who drinks like a fish, an’ Pimply60 Brock, who could swear you out o’ your oiled frock in five minutes, an’ a lot of others more or less wicked, but not one of ’em so bad as a big ugly feller I knows named John Gunter, who—”
Billy was interrupted by Gunter making a rush at him, but the boy was too nimble for the man, besides which, Gunter’s bruises61, to which we have before referred, were too painful to be trifled with. Soon afterwards the boat returned for another cargo62 of trunks, and the crew of the Evening Star went to work again.
Meanwhile the “power of littles” began to tell on the capacious hold of the steamer. Let us go on board of her for a few minutes and mount the bridge. The fleet had now closed in and swarmed63 around her so thickly, that it seemed a miracle that the vessels did not come into collision. From the smacks boat after boat had run alongside and made fast, until an absolute flotilla was formed on either side. As each boat came up it thrust itself into the mass, the man who had pulled the bow-oar taking the end of the long painter in his hand ready for a leap. Some boats’ crews, having trans-shipped their trunks, were backing out; others were in the midst of that arduous64 and even dangerous operation; while still more came pouring in, seeking a place of entrance through the heaving mass.
The boat of the Evening Star was ere long among the latter with her second load—Zulu grinning in the bow and Spivin in the stern. Zulu was of that cheery temperament65 that cannot help grinning. If he had been suddenly called on to face Death himself, we believe he would have met him with a grin. And, truly, we may say without jesting, that Zulu had often so faced the King of Terrors, for it is a sad fact that many a bold and brave young fellow meets his death in this operation of trans-shipping the fish—a fall overboard is so very easy, and, hampered66 as these men are with huge sea-boots and heavy garments, it too often happens that when they chance to fall into the sea they go down like a stone.
They never seem to think of that, however. Certainly Zulu did not as he crouched67 there with glittering eyes and glistening68 teeth, like a dark tiger ready for a spring.
There was strict discipline, but not much interference with the work, on board the steamer. No boat was permitted to put its trunks aboard abaft69 a certain part of the vessel, but in front of that the fishermen were left to do the work as best they could. They were not, however, assisted—not even to the extent of fastening their painters—the crew of the steamer being employed below in stowing and iceing the fish.
When the Evening Star’s boat, therefore, had forced itself alongside, Zulu found himself heaving against the steamer’s side, now looking up at an iron wall about fifteen feet high, anon pitching high on the billows till he could see right down on the deck. He watched his opportunity, threw himself over the iron wall, with the painter in one hand, (while Spivin and the boat seemed to sink in the depths below), rolled over on the deck, scrambled70 to his feet, made the painter fast to the foremast shrouds71, and ran to look over the side.
Spivin was there ready for him, looking up, with a trunk on the boat’s gunwale. Next moment he was looking down, for a wave had lifted the boat’s gunwale absolutely above the vessel’s bulwark41 for an instant. No words were needed. Each knew what to do. Zulu made a powerful grab, Spivin let go, the trunk was on the steamer’s rail, whence it was hurled72 to the deck, narrowly missing the legs and toes of half-a-dozen reckless men who seized it and sent it below. Almost before Zulu could turn round Spivin was up again with another trunk, another wild grab was made, but not successfully, and Spivin sank to rise again. A second effort proved successful—and thus they went on, now and then missing the mark, but more frequently hitting it, until the boat was empty.
You have only to multiply this little scene by forty or fifty, and you have an idea of the loading of that steamer on the high seas. Of course you must diversify73 the picture a little, for in one place you have a man hanging over the side with a trunk in mid-air, barely caught when in its descent, and almost too heavy for him by reason of his position. In another place you have a man glaring up at a trunk, in another glaring down;—in all cases action the most violent and most diversified74, coupled with cool contempt of crushed fingers and bruised75 shins and toes.
At last the furore began to subside76. By degrees the latest boats arrived, and in about three hours from the time of commencing, the crew of the steamer began to batten down the hatches. Just then, like the “late passenger,” the late trawler came up. The captain of the steamer had seen it long before on the horizon doing its best to save the market, and good-naturedly delayed a little to take its fish on board, but another smack that came up a quarter of an hour or so after that, found the hatches closed, and heard the crushing reply to his hail—“Too late!”
Then the carrying-steamer turned her sharp bow to the sou’-west, put on full steam, and made for the Thames—distant nearly 300 miles—with over 2000 trunks of fresh fish on board, for the breakfast, luncheon77 and dinner tables of the Great City. Thus, if the steamer were to leave early on a Monday, it would arrive on Tuesday night and the fish be sold in the market on Wednesday morning about five o’clock.
With little variation this scene is enacted78 every day, all the year round, on the North Sea. It may not be uninteresting to add, that on the arrival of the steamer at Billingsgate, the whole of her cargo would probably be landed and sold in less than one hour and a half.
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1
bustling
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| adj.喧闹的 | |
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necessitated
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| 使…成为必要，需要( necessitate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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perishable
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| adj.（尤指食物）易腐的，易坏的 | |
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despatch
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| n./v.(dispatch)派遣；发送；n.急件；新闻报道 | |
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accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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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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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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vessel
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| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
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nautical
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| adj.海上的，航海的，船员的 | |
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locusts
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| n.蝗虫( locust的名词复数 )；贪吃的人；破坏者；槐树 | |
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wilful
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| adj.任性的，故意的 | |
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condemned
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| adj. 被责难的, 被宣告有罪的 动词condemn的过去式和过去分词 | |
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13
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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tack
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| n.大头钉；假缝，粗缝 | |
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steering
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| n.操舵装置 | |
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deftly
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| adv.灵巧地，熟练地，敏捷地 | |
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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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consigned
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| v.把…置于（令人不快的境地）( consign的过去式和过去分词 )；把…托付给；把…托人代售；丟弃 | |
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converged
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| v.（线条、运动的物体等）会于一点( converge的过去式 )；（趋于）相似或相同；人或车辆汇集；聚集 | |
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animated
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| adj.生气勃勃的，活跃的，愉快的 | |
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consummate
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| adj.完美的；v.成婚；使完美 [反]baffle | |
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judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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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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fouled
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| v.使污秽( foul的过去式和过去分词 )；弄脏；击球出界；（通常用废物）弄脏 | |
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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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wreck
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| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
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scoffing
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| n. 嘲笑, 笑柄, 愚弄 v. 嘲笑, 嘲弄, 愚弄, 狼吞虎咽 | |
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promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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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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intercourse
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| n.性交；交流，交往，交际 | |
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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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fixture
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| n.固定设备；预定日期；比赛时间；定期存款 | |
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applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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literally
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| adv.照字面意义，逐字地；确实 | |
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acrobats
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| n.杂技演员( acrobat的名词复数 )；立场观点善变的人，主张、政见等变化无常的人 | |
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arena
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| n.竞技场，运动场所；竞争场所，舞台 | |
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cork
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| n.软木，软木塞 | |
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bulwarks
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| n.堡垒( bulwark的名词复数 )；保障；支柱；舷墙 | |
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bulwark
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| n.堡垒，保障，防御 | |
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tugging
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| n.牵引感v.用力拉，使劲拉，猛扯( tug的现在分词 ) | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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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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crest
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| n.顶点；饰章；羽冠；vt.达到顶点；vi.形成浪尖 | |
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watery
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| adj.有水的，水汪汪的；湿的，湿润的 | |
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chaff
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| v.取笑，嘲笑；n.谷壳 | |
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scudding
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| n.刮面v.（尤指船、舰或云彩）笔直、高速而平稳地移动( scud的现在分词 ) | |
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rendezvous
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| n.约会，约会地点，汇合点；vi.汇合，集合；vt.使汇合，使在汇合地点相遇 | |
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51
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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bowers
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| n.（女子的）卧室( bower的名词复数 )；船首锚；阴凉处；鞠躬的人 | |
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surmounted
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| 战胜( surmount的过去式和过去分词 )； 克服（困难）； 居于…之上； 在…顶上 | |
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countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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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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jaw
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| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
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sneer
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| v.轻蔑；嘲笑；n.嘲笑，讥讽的言语 | |
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ashore
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| adv.在(向)岸上，上岸 | |
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affected
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| adj.不自然的，假装的 | |
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pimply
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| adj.肿泡的；有疙瘩的；多粉刺的；有丘疹的 | |
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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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cargo
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| n.(一只船或一架飞机运载的)货物 | |
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63
swarmed
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| 密集( swarm的过去式和过去分词 )； 云集； 成群地移动； 蜜蜂或其他飞行昆虫成群地飞来飞去 | |
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arduous
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| adj.艰苦的，费力的，陡峭的 | |
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temperament
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| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
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hampered
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| 妨碍，束缚，限制( hamper的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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crouched
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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glistening
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| adj.闪耀的，反光的v.湿物闪耀，闪亮( glisten的现在分词 ) | |
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abaft
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| prep.在…之后；adv.在船尾，向船尾 | |
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scrambled
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的过去式和过去分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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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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hurled
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| v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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diversify
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| v.（使）不同，（使）变得多样化 | |
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diversified
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| adj.多样化的，多种经营的v.使多样化，多样化( diversify的过去式和过去分词 )；进入新的商业领域 | |
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75
bruised
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| [医]青肿的，瘀紫的 | |
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subside
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| vi.平静，平息；下沉，塌陷，沉降 | |
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luncheon
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| n.午宴，午餐，便宴 | |
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enacted
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| 制定（法律），通过（法案）( enact的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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