nd fish came in
over the gunwale.

"No use to try and pick 'em out yer!" said John.

"Us 'ould never ha' got 'em in wi' two," panted Tony.

"Haul, casn'! Trim the boat. We'm going to hae all us can carry if
t'other nets be so full as thees yer."

We hauled, and pulled, and puffed and swore. The fish came over the
side like a band of jewels, like shining grains on a huge and
never-ending ear of corn, like a bright steel mat.... It was as if the
moonlight itself, that flooded air and water, was solidifying into fish
in the dimmer depths of the sea. A good catch must have dropped back
out of the net. At times, it seemed as if nothing could move the
headrope. I jammed a knee against the gunwale, waited till the dipping
of the boat gave me a foot or two of line, then jammed again to hold
it. The sea-birds screeched at their feast.

Tony, an inflated mannikin, danced on the piled-up nets and fish.
"Help, help!" he cried to the next drifter. "Us got a catch."

"Hould yer row!"

"Help, help!"

"Shut up, yu fule!--We'm not done yet.--Thee doesn't want to pay for
help, dost?"

[Sidenote: _THE CATCH OF THE SEASON_]

We hauled, pulled, puffed and swore again. Yard by yard the nets came
up, now foul, now broken, now tangled, now wound about the headrope and
almost solid with fish.

"Oh, my poor back."

"Lord, my arms!"

"Casn' thee trim a boat better'n that?"

"Where 'er down tu?"

"There's only two strakes to spare."

The water was within less than a foot of the gunwale, and we were five
or six miles from home.

"Help, help!" shouted Tony again, and this time we let it pass. Five
out of our seven nets were aboard; we could not take the remaining two.

Another drifter came alongside and took in the sixth net.

"Come on! here's the seventh--the last."

"Can't take no more."

"Ther's on'y thees yer outside net. Casn' thee take thic?"

"Can't du it. We'm leaking now. Here's your headrope. Good-night."

Tony gave a gesture of despair. "What shall us du? Us can't take in
much more.

"Hould yer row, an' haul!"

The last net was fuller than ever. We hauled in half of it. A punt came
near. "Can 'ee take one net?" yelled Tony.

"Us got 'en half in now," said John.

"Iss, but the wind's gone round--north-easterly--dead against us. An'
luke at the circle round the mune. Ther's wind in thic sky, I tell 'ee.
Us got so much now as we can carry home on a calm sea, let 'lone
choppy."

We cut the net.

"Hurr