ocean swell heaving in beneath it.
The piles of firewood and the loads of timber for the summer
fishing-rooms on all the outer islands were left standing on the
landwash. The dog-teams usually haul all this out at a stretch gallop
over the glare ice which overlies in April the snow-covered surface of
winter. For weeks, heavy pack ice, driven to and fro with the tides,
but ever held in the bay with the onshore winds, had prevented the
small boats' freighting more than their families and the merest
necessities to the summer stations.

So it came to pass that long after the usual time, indeed after the
incoming shoals of fish were surely expected, John Mitchell's firewood
still lay on the bank, some twenty miles up the bay. When at last a
spell of warm and offshore winds had driven the ice mostly clear, John
announced to his eager lads that "come Monday, if the wind held
westerly," he would go up the bay for a load. What a clamour ensued,
for every one wanted to be one of the crew to go to the winter home.
The lads, like ducklings, "fair loved the water"; and though John
needed Jim, and was quite glad to have Tom, now of the important age
of fourteen years, he did his best, well seconded by the wise old
grandmother, to persuade Neddie, aged twelve, and Willie, aged ten, to
stay behind.

"You be too small, Ned, yet awhile. Next year perhaps father will take
you," was the old lady's first argument. '"Twill be cold in t' boat,
boy, and you'll perish altogether."

"Father'll look after me, Grannie, and I'll wrap up ever so warm. Do
let me go. There's a dear grannie."

The curly-haired, rosy-cheeked lads were so insistent and so winsome
that the old lady confessed to me afterwards, "They somehow got round
my heart as they mostly does, and I let 'em go, though sore against my
mind, Doctor."

Of course, Willie had to go if Neddie went, for "they'd be company
while t' men worked, and he could carry small things as well as t'
rest. He did so want to go."

When at length Monday came, and a bright sun shone over a placid sea,
the grandmother's last excuse to keep them at home was lost. Her
consent was finally secured, and, before a light, fair wind the women
watched, not without anxiety, so many of those whom they held dearer
than life itself sail "out into the deep."

Progress was slow, for the wind fell away almost altogether as the
morning passed, but the glorious warmth and exuberance of life made
the time seem as nothi