She's All the World to Me. Hall Sir Caine
ha! ha! of course not," laughed Christian with a tragic effort.
They had stopped outside the ivy cottage of the harbor-master, and that worthy, who was standing there, had overheard the last loud words of Kinvig's conversation.
"What do you say, Tommy-Bill-beg?" asked Kinvig, giving him a prod in the ribs.
"I say that the gels in these days ought to get wedded while they're babbies in arms – "
"That'll do, that'll do," shouted Kinvig with a roar of laughter.
At the same moment one of the factory girls appeared side by side with a stranger.
"Good-by, Mr. Kinvig," said Christian.
"Good-day," Kinvig answered; and then shouting to the stranger, "this gentleman knows something of the young vagabond you want."
"So I see," answered the stranger with a cold smile, and Christian and the stranger stepped apart.
When they parted, the stranger said, "Well, one month let it be, and not a day longer." Christian nodded his head in assent, and turned toward Balladhoo. After dinner he said:
"Father, I'd like to go out to the herrings this season. It would be a change."
"Humph!" grunted his father; "which boat?"
"Well, I thought of the 'Ben-my-Chree'; she's roomy, and, besides, she's the admiral's boat, and perhaps Kisseck wouldn't much like to hear that I'd sailed with another master."
"You'll soon tire of that amusement," mumbled Mylrea Balladhoo.
CHAPTER VII
THE LAST OF "THE HERRINGS"
Some months later, as the season was chilling down to winter, the "Ben-my-Chree," with the fleet behind her, was setting out from Peel for her last night at "the herrings." On the deck, among others, was Christian Mylrea, in blue serge and guernsey, heavy sea-boots and sou'wester. It was past sundown; a smart breeze was blowing off the land as they rounded the Contrary Head and crossed the two streams that flow there. It was not yet too dark, however, to see the coast-line curved into covelets and promontories, and to look for miles over the hills where stretched the moles and hillocks of gorse and tussacs of long grass.
The twilight deepened as they rounded Niarbyl Point and left the Calf Islet on their lee, with Cronte-nay-Ivey-Lhaa towering into the gloomy sky. When they sailed through Fleshwick Bay the night gradually darkened, and they saw nothing of Ennyn Mooar. But the heavens lightened again and glittered with stars, and when they brought the lugger head to the wind in six fathoms of water outside Port Erin, the moon had risen behind Brada, and the steep and rugged headland showed clear against the sky.
"Have you found the herring on this ground at the same time in former seasons?" asked Christian of Kisseck.
"Not for seven years."
"Then why try now?"
"See the gull there. She's skipper to-night. She's showing us the fish."
And one after another the fleet brought to about them.
Danny Fayle had been leaning over the bow, and occasionally rapping with a stick at the timbers near the water.
"Any signs?" shouted Kisseck.
"Ay," said Danny, "the mar-fire's risin'."
The wind had dropped, and luminous patches of phosphorescent light in the water were showing Danny that the herring were stirring.
"Let's make a shot; up with the gear," said Kisseck; and preparations were made for shooting the nets over the quarter.
"Davy Cain (the mate), you see to the lint. Tommy Tear, look after the corks. Danny – where's that lad? – look to the seizings; d'ye hear?"
Then the nets were hauled from below and passed over a bank board placed between the hatchway and the top of the bulwark. Davy and Tommy shot the gear, and as the seizings came up, Danny ran aft and made them fast to the warp near the taffrail.
When the nets were all paid out, every net in the drift being tied to the next, and a solid wall of meshes nine feet deep had been swept away for half a mile behind them, Kisseck shouted, "Down with the sheets."
The sails were taken in, the mainmast – made to lower backward – was dropped, and only the drift-mizzen was left to keep the boat's head to the wind.
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