ng. A sympathy for their
horribly unprotected helplessness always left an uneasy sinking
feeling at the pit of my own stomach. The waste has, however, righted
itself in the course of years by the simple process of an increasing
scarcity of the species, making it pay to save all haddock, cod, hake,
ling, and other fish good for food, formerly so ruthlessly cast away.

One had many interesting experiences in this voyage, some of which
have been of no small value subsequently. But the best lesson was the
optimism and contentment of one's fellows, who had apparently so few
of the things that only tyrannize the lives of those who live for
them. They were a simple, kindly, helpful people, living in a country
barren and frigid beyond all others, with no trees except in one
extreme corner of the island. The cows were literally fed on salt
codfish and the tails of whales, and the goats grazed on the roofs of
the houses, where existed the only available grass. There were dry,
hard, and almost larval deposits over the whole surface of the land
which is not occupied by perpetual snow and ice. The hot springs which
abound in some regions only suggest a forlorn effort on the part of
Nature at the last moment to save the situation. The one asset of the
country is its fisheries, and of these the whale and seal fisheries
were practically handed over to Norwegians; while large French and
English boats fell like wolves on the fish, which the poor natives had
no adequate means of securing for themselves.

We were fishing one day in Seyde Fjord on the east coast, when
suddenly with much speed and excitement the great net was hauled, and
we started with several other trawlers to dash pell-mell for the open
sea. The alarm of masts and smoke together on the horizon had been
given--the sign manual of the one poor Danish gunboat which was
supposed to control the whole swarm of far smarter little pirates,
which lived like mosquitoes by sucking their sustenance from others.
The water was as a general rule too deep outside the three-mile limit
for legitimate fishing.

The mention of Iceland brings to every one's mind the name of Pierre
Loti. We saw many of the "pecheurs d'islande" whom he so effectively
portrays; and often felt sorry enough for them, fishing as they still
were from old square-rigged wind-jammers. On some of these which had
been months on the voyage, enough green weed had grown "to feed a
cow"--as the mate put it.

On our retur