an has a
chance to catch herring and pay his way, and pay a debt or two maybe,
'tis on'y right to try."

"For sure 'tis. But why an't 'ee been to say thees twelve year then?"

"An't been fit...."

"Fit! Tis the price o' herring fetches the likes o' yu. Have 'ee got
yer lead-line and compass aboard?"

"I've broke mine."

"'Tis tempting Providence to go away wi'out 'em Be yu off? Off yu goes
then. Luke out!"

A yell went up as a wave broke in over the stern and soaked Joe
Barker's back.

"They'm off!" cried Uncle Jave with ironic merriment. "Wet drough to
the skin they be!"

The Little Russian rowed steadily on the same side as 'Gustus Theodore.
Both of them just balanced Joe Barker, who rowed on the other side in
strong jerks, as if his aged strength revived for a part only of each
stroke.

Darkness, drawing in over the sea, hid the drifters from sight. Along
the beach we asked one another in jest, "I wonder what the _Shuteing
Star_ is doing now?"

The commonest answer was a laugh. But we did want to know.

Between eleven o'clock and midnight sail after sail appeared silently
on the black darkness, as if some invisible hand had suddenly painted
them there. The boats were coming in. Creaks and groans of winches
sounded along the beach.

[Sidenote: _AND RETURNS_]

"Who be yu?" was the greeting from a rabble of youths who scuttled up
and down the waters' edge to guide boats to their berths and gain first
news of the catches. "Have 'ee see'd ort o' the _Shuteing Star_?" they
shouted.

"No-o-o-o!"

"_I_ shan't go to bed till they comes in," said Uncle Jake. "Cuden'
sleep if I did. '_Tis_ a craft! Her's so leaky as a sieve, lying dry
all these years. Not but what her was a gude 'nuff li'l craft in her
time--tu small for winter work. But I wishes 'em luck, I du."

At last, the _Shooting Star_ did row in. They had not dared to sail
her. She touched the beach before we glimpsed her, for all our
watching. A crowd ran down to haul her up and to crack jokes on her.

"Have 'ee catched ort, Harry?"

"Tu or dree dizzen, an' half a ton o' coral an' some wild-crabs."

"Did 'er sail well--keep up to the wind? Eh?"

"Us rowed. 'Tis blowin' a gale out there."

"What yu done to your nets?"

"Broke 'em."

"On to the bottom?"

"Iss."

"Why didn't 'ee go crab-fishing proper? Be 'ee going again?"

The little Russan saw no joke. He bustled about the boat and replied:
"A-course we be, if 'tis fit."

"Well, I