ukat dalam_ or seine-boat, which requires more than a score of
paddlers to work her. They are all made of _chengal_, one of the hardest
and toughest woods that is yielded by the jungles of the Peninsula.
They all rise slightly at the stern and at the bows; they all are decked
in with wide laths of bamboo; they all carry a mast which may be lowered
or raised at will, and which seems to be altogether too tall and heavy
for safety; they all fly under a vast spread of yellow palm-mat sail,
the sight of which, as it fills above you, and you lie clutching the
bulwark on the canting boat, while half the crew are hanging by ropes
over the windward side, fairly takes your breath away; and all are so
rigged that if taken aback the mast must part or the boat be inevitably
capsized. But the Fisher Folk know the signs of the heavens as no others
may know them, and when danger is apprehended the mast is lowered, the
sail furled, and the boat headed for shore.

The real danger is when men are too eagerly engaged in fishing to note
the signals which the skies are making to them. A party of Kelantan
fisher folk nearly came by their death a year or two ago by reason of
such carelessness. One of them is a friend of mine, and he told me the
tale. Eight of them put to sea in a _jalak_ to troll for fish, and ran
before a light breeze, with two score of lines trailing glistening
spoon-baits in their wake. The fish were extraordinarily active, itself
a pretty sure sign that a storm was not far off, but the men were too
busy pulling in the lines, knocking the fish from the hooks with their
wooden mallets, and trailing the lines astern again, to spare a glance
at the sky or the horizon. Suddenly came the gust, striking, as do the
squalls of the tropics, like the flat of a giant's hand. The mast was
new and sound, the boat canted quickly, the water rose to the line of
the bulwarks, paused, shivered, and then in a deluge plunged into the
hold. A cry from the crew, a loud but futile shriek of directions from
the owner, a splashing of released fish, a fighting flood of water, and
the eight fishermen found themselves struggling in the arms of an angry
sea.

The boat, keel uppermost, rocked uneasily on the waves, and the men,
casting off their scant garments, made shift to swim to her, and climb
up her slippery dipping side. The storm passed over them, a line of
tropic rain, beating a lashing tattoo upon the white-tipped troubled
waters; then a blind