When they parted, the stranger said, "Well, one month let it be, and not a day longer." Christian nodded his head in a.s.sent, and turned toward Balladhoo. After dinner he said:
"Father, I"d like to go out to the herrings this season. It would be a change."
"Humph!" grunted his father; "which boat?"
"Well, I thought of the "Ben-my-Chree"; she"s roomy, and, besides, she"s the admiral"s boat, and perhaps Kisseck wouldn"t much like to hear that I"d sailed with another master."
"You"ll soon tire of that amus.e.m.e.nt," mumbled Mylrea Balladhoo.
CHAPTER VII
THE LAST OF "THE HERRINGS"
Some months later, as the season was chilling down to winter, the "Ben-my-Chree," with the fleet behind her, was setting out from Peel for her last night at "the herrings." On the deck, among others, was Christian Mylrea, in blue serge and guernsey, heavy sea-boots and sou"wester. It was past sundown; a smart breeze was blowing off the land as they rounded the Contrary Head and crossed the two streams that flow there. It was not yet too dark, however, to see the coast-line curved into covelets and promontories, and to look for miles over the hills where stretched the moles and hillocks of gorse and tussacs of long gra.s.s.
The twilight deepened as they rounded Niarbyl Point and left the Calf Islet on their lee, with Cronte-nay-Ivey-Lhaa towering into the gloomy sky. When they sailed through Fleshwick Bay the night gradually darkened, and they saw nothing of Ennyn Mooar. But the heavens lightened again and glittered with stars, and when they brought the lugger head to the wind in six fathoms of water outside Port Erin, the moon had risen behind Brada, and the steep and rugged headland showed clear against the sky.
"Have you found the herring on this ground at the same time in former seasons?" asked Christian of Kisseck.
"Not for seven years."
"Then why try now?"
"See the gull there. She"s skipper to-night. She"s showing us the fish."
And one after another the fleet brought to about them.
Danny Fayle had been leaning over the bow, and occasionally rapping with a stick at the timbers near the water.
"Any signs?" shouted Kisseck.
"Ay," said Danny, "the mar-fire"s risin"."
The wind had dropped, and luminous patches of phosph.o.r.escent light in the water were showing Danny that the herring were stirring.
"Let"s make a shot; up with the gear," said Kisseck; and preparations were made for shooting the nets over the quarter.
"Davy Cain (the mate), you see to the lint. Tommy Tear, look after the corks. Danny--where"s that lad?--look to the seizings; d"ye hear?"
Then the nets were hauled from below and pa.s.sed over a bank board placed between the hatchway and the top of the bulwark. Davy and Tommy shot the gear, and as the seizings came up, Danny ran aft and made them fast to the warp near the taffrail.
When the nets were all paid out, every net in the drift being tied to the next, and a solid wall of meshes nine feet deep had been swept away for half a mile behind them, Kisseck shouted, "Down with the sheets."
The sails were taken in, the mainmast--made to lower backward--was dropped, and only the drift-mizzen was left to keep the boat"s head to the wind.
"Up with the light there," shouted Kisseck.
On hearing this Danny popped his head out of the hatchways.
"Ah! to be sure, that lad"s never ready. Gerr out of that, quick."
Danny took a lantern and fixed it on the top of the mitch-board.
Then vessel and nets drifted together. Christian and the skipper went below.
It was now a calm, clear night, with just light enough to show two or three of the buoys on the back of the first net as they floated under water. The skipper had not mistaken his ground. Large white patches came moving out of the surrounding pavement of deep black, lightened only with the occasional image of a star where the vanishing ripples left the sea smooth. Once or twice countless faint popping sounds were heard, and minute points of silver were seen in the water around. The herrings were at play about them. Shoals on shoals were breaking the sea into glistening foam.
After an hour had pa.s.sed, Kisseck popped his head out of the hatchways, and cried, "Try the look-on."
The warp was hauled in until the first net was reached. It came up as black as coal, save for a dog-fish or two that had broken a mesh here and there.
"Too much moon to-night," said Kisseck; "they see the nets, and the "cute they are extraordinary."
Half an hour later the moon went out behind a thick ridge of cloud that floated over the land. The sky became gray and leaden, and a rising breeze ruffled the sea. Some of the men on deck began to sing.
"Hould on there," shouted Kisseck, "d"ye want to frighten all the herrin" for ten miles?"
Hour after hour wore on, and not a fish came to the "look-on" net.
Toward one o"clock in the morning the moon broke out again in full splendor.
"There"ll be a heavy strike now," said Kisseck; and in another instant a luminous patch floated across the line of nets, sank, disappeared, and pulled three of the buoys down with them.
"Pull up now," shouted Kisseck.
Then the nets were hauled. It was Danny Fayle"s duty to lead the warp through a s.n.a.t.c.h-block fixed to the mast-hole on to the capstan. Davy Cain disconnected the nets from the warps, and Tommy Tear and Mark Crennel pulled the nets over the gunwale. They came up, white in the moonlight, as a solid block of fish. Bill Kisseck and Christian pa.s.sed the nets over the scudding pole and shook the herrings into the hold.
"Five barrels at least," said Kisseck. "Try again." And once more the nets were shot. The other boats of the fleet were signaled that the "Ben-my-Chree" had discovered a scale of fish. The blue light was answered by other blue lights on every side. The fishing was faring well.
One, two, three o"clock. The night was wearing on. The moon went out once more, and in the darkness that preceded the dawn the lanterns burning on the drifting boats gave out an eery glow. At last the gray light came in the east, and the sun rose over the land. The breeze was now fresh, and it was time to haul in the nets for the last time.
In accordance with ancient custom, the admiral"s flag went up to the mast-head, and at this sign every man in the fleet dropped on one knee, with his face in his cap, to offer his silent thanksgiving for the blessings of the season.
"Tumble up the sheets--bear a hand there--d---- the lad --gerr out of the way."
In five minutes the lugger was running home before a stiff breeze.
"Nine barrels--not bad for the last night," said Christian.
"Souse them well," said Kisseck, and Davy Corteen sprinkled salt on the herrings as they lay in the hold.
Mark Crennel, who acted as slushy, otherwise cook, came up from below with a huge saucepan, which he filled with the fish. As he did so, the ear was conscious of a faint "cheep, cheep"--the herrings were still alive.
All hands then went below for a smoke, except the man at the tiller, and Kisseck and Christian, who stood talking at the bow. It is true that Danny Fayle lay on the deck, but the lad was hardly an ent.i.ty. His uncle and Christian heeded him not at all, yet Danny heard their conversation, and, without thought of mischief, remembered what he heard.
Christian was talking earnestly of some impending disaster, of debts, and the near approach of the time when his father must be told.