loaded when, with the dory towing
behind, she rounded the granite breakwater and started for Vinalhaven,
twelve miles away. At noon they ran in alongside Hardy's weir on the
eastern shore of the island. Several bushels of glittering herring were
dipped aboard, and the heavily freighted sloop at once swung away on her
fifteen-mile jaunt to Tarpaulin.

"Now," said Jim, as soon as they were well clear of the island, "I'll
teach you how to bait up. Take the tiller, Filippo."

Emptying out the ground-line from one of the tubs, he took a small
herring in his left hand, and with his right grasped the shank of the
hook on the first ganging; he forced the sharp point into the fish until
the barb had gone clean through and the herring was impaled firmly. Then
he dropped the hook into the empty tub, giving the ganging a deft swing,
so that it fell in a smooth coil. He repeated the process swiftly, while
the others watched him with interest.

"How many hooks can you bait in a minute?" asked Budge.

"Time me."

Budge followed the second-hand of his watch while the coil in the tub
grew larger.

"Better than ten a minute," he announced. "That's going some."

"It's slow to what some fishermen can do. It means about an hour to a
tub. Catch hold, you fellows, and see how fast you can do it. Might as
well make a beginning. You'll have plenty of experience before the
summer's ended. I'll take her awhile, Filippo."

The other boys, Percy included, were soon hard at work, each on his own
tub. At first they made a slow, awkward business of it. Impatient
exclamations rose as the sharp hooks were stuck into clumsy fingers.
Finally Percy threw down his trawl in a fit of anger.

"I've had enough of this! I didn't come out here to butcher myself."

"You can steer," said Jim, quietly. "I'll take your place."

Percy stepped to the helm, and Jim began baiting again. The others stuck
to their unfamiliar task, despite its discouragements, and were soon
making fair headway. Percy eyed them sulkily. His pricked fingers
smarted. The boat rolled and pitched on the old swell, making him a
trifle seasick. A wave of disgust swept over him. This was no place for
the son of a millionaire. He wished himself back on the land.

By the time they reached Tarpaulin, at about half past four, all the six
trawls were baited.

"We won't set them till day after to-morrow," determined Jim. "Guess we
can find enough work to keep us busy ashore till then."