ess. What's the full size ye reckon a school o' pilchards, now--one
o the big uns? Scores an' scores o' square miles, all movin' in a
mass, an' solid a'most as sardines in a tin; and, as I've heard th'
Old Doctor used to tell, every female capable o' spawnin' up to two
million. . . . No; your mind can't seize it. But ye might be fitted
to grasp that if th' Almighty hadn' ordained other fish an' birds as
well as us men to prey upon 'em, in five years' time no boat'd be
able to sail th' Atlantic; in ten years ye could walk over from
Polpier to Newfoundland stankin' 'pon rotten pilchards all the way.
Don't reckon yourselves wiser than Natur', my billies. . . . As for
steam trawlin', simmee, I han't heard so much open grievin' over it
since Government started loans for motors. Come to think--hey?--
there ben't no such tearin' difference between motors an' steam--not
on principle. And as for reggilations, I've a doo respect for County
Council till it sets up to reggilate Providence, when I falls back on
th' Lord's text to Noey that, boy an' man, I've never known fail.
_While th' earth remaineth, seed-time and harvest shall not cease._
And again," continued Un' Benny Rowett, "Behold, I say unto you,
_Lift up your eyes and look on the fields, for they are white already
to harvest_."

If pressed in argument he would entrench himself behind the wonderful
plenty of john-doreys: "Which," he would say, "is the mysteriousest
fish in the sea and the holiest. Take a john-dorey or two, and the
pilchards be never far behind. 'Tis well beknown as the fish St
Peter took when Our Lord told 'en to cast a hook; an' be shot if he
didn' come to hook with a piece o' silver in his mouth! You can see
Peter's thumb-mark upon him to this day: and, if you ask _me_, he's
better eatin' than a sole, let alone you can carve en with a
spoon--though improved if stuffed, with a shreddin' o' mint.
Iss, baked o' course. . . . Afore August is out--mark my words--the
pilchards'll be here."

"But shall _we_ be here to take 'em?"

It was a dark, good-looking, serious youth who put the question: and
all the men at the end of the quay turned to stare at him. (For this
happened on the evening of Saturday, the 25th--St James's Day,--when
all the boats were laid up for the week-end.)

The men turned to young Seth Minards because, as a rule, he had a
wonderful gift of silence. He was known to be something of a
scholar, and religious too: but his reli