ey came in on
every tack, and from all points of the compass.

"Look sharp, boys," said David Bright, who was steering, "we must git
every fish aboard. It's now eight o'clock, an' she won't wait beyond
eleven or twelve, you may be sure."

There was no need for the caution. Every man and boy was already doing
his utmost.

It fell to Billy's lot to help in packing the trunks, and deftly he did
it,--keeping soles, turbot, and halibut separate, to form boxes, or
"trunks of prime," and packing other fish as much as possible according
to their kind, until he came to roker, dabs, gurnets, etcetera, which he
packed together under the name of "offal." This does not mean refuse,
but only inferior fish, which are bought by hawkers, and sold to the
poor. The trunks were partly open on top, but secured by cords which
kept the fish from slipping out, and each trunk was labelled with the
name of the smack, to which it belonged, and the party to whom it was
consigned.

As the fleet converged to the centre, the vessels began to crowd
together and friends to recognise and hail each other, so that the scene
became very animated, while the risk of collision was considerable.
Indeed, it was only by consummate skill, judgment and coolness that, in
many cases, collisions were avoided.

"There's the _Sparrow_," said Billy to Trevor, eagerly, as he pointed to
a smack, whose master, Jim Frost, he knew and was fond of. It bore down
in such a direction as to pass close under the stern of the _Evening
Star_.

"What cheer! what cheer!" cried Billy, holding one of his little hands
high above his head.

"What cheer!" came back in strong, hearty tones from the _Sparrow's_
deck.

"What luck, Jim?" asked David Bright, as the vessel flew past.

"We fouled an old wreck this mornin', an' tore the net all to pieces,
but we got a good haul last night--praise the Lord."

"Which piece o' luck d'ye praise the Lord for?" demanded David, in a
scoffing tone.

"For both," shouted Frost, promptly. "It might have bin worse. We
might have lost the gear, you know--or one o' the hands."

When this reply was finished, the vessels were too far apart for further
intercourse.

"Humph!" ejaculated Gunter, "one o' the psalm-singin' lot, I suppose."

"If it's the psalm-singin'," said Spivin, "as makes Jim Frost bear his
troubles wi' good temper, an' thank God for foul weather an' fair, the
sooner you take to it the better for yourself."

"Ay, an' for