hat still morning in June.

Some of the men inside were playing draughts, others were finishing
their breakfast; one was playing "Auld Lang Syne", with many extempore
flourishes and trills, on a flute, which was very much out of tune. A
few were smoking, of course (where exists the band of Britons who can
get on without that!) and several were sitting astride on the
cross-beams below, bobbing--not exactly for whales, but for any monster
of the deep that chose to turn up.

The men fishing, and the beacon itself, loomed large and mysterious in
the half-luminous fog. Perhaps this was the reason that the sea-gulls
flew so near them, and gave forth an occasional and very melancholy cry,
as if of complaint at the changed appearance of things.

"There's naethin' to be got the day," said John Watt, rather peevishly,
as he pulled up his line and found the bait gone.

Baits are _always_ found gone when lines are pulled up! This would seem
to be an angling law of nature. At all events, it would seem to have
been a very aggravating law of nature on the present occasion, for John
Watt frowned and growled to himself as he put on another bait.

"There's a bite!" exclaimed Joe Dumsby, with a look of doubt, at the
same time feeling his line.

"Poo'd in then," said Watt ironically.

"No, 'e's hoff," observed Joe.

"Hm! he never was on," muttered Watt.

"What are you two growling at?" said Ruby, who sat on one of the beams
at the other side.

"At our luck, Ruby," said Joe. "Ha! was that a nibble?" ("Naethin' o'
the kind," from Watt.) "It was! as I live it's large; an 'addock, I
think."

"A naddock!" sneered Watt; "mair like a bit o' tangle than--eh! losh me!
it _is_ a fish--"

"Well done, Joe!" cried Bremner, from the doorway above, as a large
rock-cod was drawn to the surface of the water.

"Stay, it's too large to pull up with the line. I'll run down and gaff
it," cried Ruby, fastening his own line to the beam, and descending to
the water by the usual ladder, on one of the main beams. "Now, draw him
this way--gently, not too roughly--take time. Ah! that was a miss--he's
off; no! Again; now then--"

Another moment, and a goodly cod of about ten pounds weight was
wriggling on the iron hook which Ruby handed up to Dumsby, who mounted
with his prize in triumph to the kitchen.

From that moment the fish began to "take."

While the men were thus busily engaged, a boat was rowing about in the
fog, vainly endeavou