awn in on deck, and slapped down with a smack like a
whip-crack; there they wriggled about angrily, flapping their tails on
the deck, scattering plenty of sea-water about, and silvery scales too,
in the course of their death-struggle. The sailor who split them open
with his long knife, sometimes cut his own fingers, in his haste, so
that his warm blood mingled with the brine.

CHAPTER X--THE WHITE FOG

Caught in the fog, they remained ten days in succession without being
able to see anything. The fishing went on handsomely the while, and with
so much to do there was no time for weariness. At regular intervals one
of them blew a long fog-horn, whence issued a sound like the howling of
a wild beast.

Sometimes, out of the depths of white fog, another bellowing answered
their call. Then a sharper watch was kept. If the blasts were
approaching, all ears were turned in the direction of that unknown
neighbour, whom they might perhaps never see, but whose presence was
nevertheless a danger. Conjectures were made about the strange vessel;
it became a subject of conversation, a sort of company for them; all
longing to see her, strained their eyes in vain efforts to pierce those
impalpable white shrouds.

Then the mysterious consort would depart, the bellowing of her trumpet
fading away in the distance, and they would remain again in the deep
hush, amid the infinity of stagnant vapour. Everything was drenched
with salt water; the cold became more penetrating; each day the sun took
longer to sink below the horizon; there were now real nights one or two
hours long, and their gray gloaming was chilly and weird.

Every morning they heaved the lead, through fear that the _Marie_ might
have run too near the Icelandic coast. But all the lines on board,
fastened end to end, were paid out in vain--the bottom could not be
touched. So they knew that they were well out in blue water.

Life on board was rough and wholesome; the comfort in the snug strong
oaken cabin below was enhanced by the impression of the piercing cold
outside, when they went down to supper or for rest.

In the daytime, these men, who were as secluded as monks, spoke but
little among themselves. Each held his line, remaining for hours and
hours in the same immovable position. They were separated by some three
yards of space, but it ended in not even seeing one another.

The calm of the fog dulled the mind. Fishing so lonely, they hummed
home songs, so as not