ow-oar taking
the end of the long painter in his hand ready for a leap. Some boats'
crews, having trans-shipped their trunks, were backing out; others were
in the midst of that arduous and even dangerous operation; while still
more came pouring in, seeking a place of entrance through the heaving
mass.

The boat of the _Evening Star_ was ere long among the latter with her
second load--Zulu grinning in the bow and Spivin in the stern. Zulu was
of that cheery temperament that cannot help grinning. If he had been
suddenly called on to face Death himself, we believe he would have met
him with a grin. And, truly, we may say without jesting, that Zulu had
often so faced the King of Terrors, for it is a sad fact that many a
bold and brave young fellow meets his death in this operation of
trans-shipping the fish--a fall overboard is so very easy, and, hampered
as these men are with huge sea-boots and heavy garments, it too often
happens that when they chance to fall into the sea they go down like a
stone.

They never seem to think of that, however. Certainly Zulu did not as he
crouched there with glittering eyes and glistening teeth, like a dark
tiger ready for a spring.

There was strict discipline, but not much interference with the work, on
board the steamer. No boat was permitted to put its trunks aboard abaft
a certain part of the vessel, but in front of that the fishermen were
left to do the work as best they could. They were not, however,
assisted--not even to the extent of fastening their painters--the crew
of the steamer being employed below in stowing and iceing the fish.

When the _Evening Star's_ boat, therefore, had forced itself alongside,
Zulu found himself heaving against the steamer's side, now looking up at
an iron wall about fifteen feet high, anon pitching high on the billows
till he could see right down on the deck. He watched his opportunity,
threw himself over the iron wall, with the painter in one hand, (while
Spivin and the boat seemed to sink in the depths below), rolled over on
the deck, scrambled to his feet, made the painter fast to the foremast
shrouds, and ran to look over the side.

Spivin was there ready for him, looking up, with a trunk on the boat's
gunwale. Next moment he was looking down, for a wave had lifted the
boat's gunwale absolutely above the vessel's bulwark for an instant. No
words were needed. Each knew what to do. Zulu made a powerful grab,
Spivin let go, the trun