“Now come along, Gale,” Mr. Eastrey said, at last, “the Kitty is close by.”

Following his master, the lad went out from the store and along the wharf and, presently, stepped upon a smack on which several men, and a boy, were at work.

“Harvey,” Mr. Eastrey said, “I have brought you a new lad.  He will sail with you, tomorrow.  I have a very good account of him, and I think you will find him quick, and ready.”

“So as he’s not up to tricks, I shall do very well with him, I don’t doubt,” the skipper said; “but boys are an awful trouble, the first voyage or two.  However, I will do my best for him.

“Are you ready to begin work at once, young ’un?  What is your name?”

“William Gale, and I am quite ready.”

“Very well, Bill, chuck off your jacket, then, and pass those bags along from the wharf.”

The boy was soon hard at work.  He was a little disappointed at finding that the skipper was, in dress and manner, in no way superior to the rest of the crew.  The Kitty was a yawl of forty-five tons, deep in the water and broad in the beam.  Her deck was dirty and, at present, in disorder; and she did not come up to the perfection of neatness and cleanliness which William Gale had read of, in the pages of his favorite author.  However ­as he told himself ­there must, of course, be a good deal of difference between a man of war, where the crew have little to do but to keep things neat and bright, and a fishing smack.

The work upon which he was, at present, engaged was the transferring of the provisions for the voyage from the quay to the hold.  These consisted principally of barrels of salt meat, and bags of biscuits; but there were a large tin of tea, a keg of sugar, a small barrel of molasses ­or treacle ­two or three sacks of potatoes, pepper and salt.  Then there was a barrel of oil for the lamps, coils of spare rope of different sizes, and a number of articles of whose use William Gale had not the most remote idea.

After two hours’ work, the skipper looked at his watch.

“Time to knock off work,” he said, “and we’ve got pretty near everything on board.  Now, be sure you are all here by six in the morning.  Tide will begin to run out at eight, and I don’t want to lose any of it.

“Bill, you are to come home with me, for the night.”

It was but a hundred yards to the sailor’s cottage, which stood on the edge of the sharp rise, a short distance back from the river.

“Here, wife,” he said as he entered, “I’ve got a new apprentice, and I expect he’s pretty hungry; I am, I can tell you, and I hope tea’s ready.  His name’s Bill, and he’s going to stop here, tonight.”

“Tea is quite ready, John, and there’s plenty of mackerel.  I thought you would not be getting them again, for a spell.

“Do you like fish?” she asked the boy.

“I don’t know, ma’am ­I never tasted them.”

“Bless me!” the woman cried, in astonishment; “never tasted fish!  To think, now!”

“I’ve been brought up in a workhouse,” William said, coloring a little as he spoke, for he knew the prejudice against the House.

“Ah!” she said, “we have had a good many of that sort; and I can’t say as I likes ’em, for the most part.  But you haven’t got the look about you.  You don’t seem that sort.”

“I hope I shall turn out none the worse for it,” the boy said; “at any rate, I’ll do my best.”

“And none can’t do more,” the good woman said, briskly.  “I like your looks, Bill, and you’ve a nice way of talking.  Well, we shall see.”

In a few minutes tea was upon the table, and Will sat down with the skipper, his wife, and two daughters ­girls of ten and twelve.  The lad enjoyed his meal immensely, and did full justice to the fish.

“You will have plenty of them, before you eat your next tea on shore.  We pretty nigh live on them, when we are on the fishing grounds.”

“The same kind of fish as this?”

“No, mackerel are caught in small boats, with a different sort of gear, altogether.  We get them, sometimes, in the trawl ­not shoals of ’em, but single fish, which we call horse mackerel.”

After tea, the skipper lit his pipe; and his wife, after clearing up, took some knitting, and sat down and began to question the new apprentice.

“It’s lucky, for you, you found such a good friend,” she said, when he had finished his story.  “That’s how it is you are so different from other boys who have been apprenticed from the House.  I should never have thought you had come from there.

“And she gave you good advice as to how you should go on, I’ll be bound.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Will said, “and I hope I shall act up to it.”

“I hope so, Bill; but you’ll find it hard work to keep yourself as you should do, among them boys.  They are an awful lot, them smack boys.”

“Not worse nor other boys,” her husband said.

“Not worse than might be looked for, John, but they are most of ’em pretty bad.  The language they use make my blood run cold, often.  They seems to take a delight in it.  The hands are bad enough, but the boys are dreadful.

“I suppose you don’t swear, Will.  They look too sharp after you, in the House; but if you take my advice, boy, don’t you ever get into the way of bad language.  If you once begin, it will grow on you.  There ain’t no use in it, and it’s awful to hear it.”

“I will try not to do so,” Will said firmly.  “Mother ­I always call her mother ­told me how bad it was, and I said I’d try.”

“That’s right, Will, you stick to that, and make up your mind to keep from liquor, and you’ll do.”

“What’s the use of talking that way?” the skipper said.  “The boy’s sure to do it.  They all do.”

“Not all, John.  There’s some teetotalers in the fleet.”

“I won’t say I’ll never touch it,” Will said, “for I don’t know, yet, how I may want it ­they say when you are cold and wet through, at sea, it is really good ­but I have made up my mind I’ll never drink for the sake of drinking.  Half the men ­ay, nineteen out of twenty in the House ­would never have been there, I’ve heard mother say, if it hadn’t been for drink; and I told her she need never fear I’d take to that.”

“If you can do without it on shore, you can do without it at sea,” the skipper said.  “I take it when I’m on shore, but there’s not a drop goes out on the Kitty.  Some boats carries spirits, some don’t.  We don’t.  The old man puts chocolate on board instead and, of a wet night, a drink of hot chocolate’s worth all the rum in the world.

“As for giving it up altogether, I see no call for it.  There are men who can’t touch liquor, but they must go on till they get drunk.  That sort ought to swear off, and never touch it at all.  It’s worse than poison, to some.  But for a man who is content with his pint of beer with his dinner, and a glass of grog of an evening, I see no harm in it.”

“Except that the money might be better spent, John.”

“It might be, or it might not.  In my case, the saving would be of no account.  The beer costs three pence, and the rum as much more.  That’s six pence a day.  I’m only at home ten days, once every two months; so it come to thirty shillings a year, and I enjoy my dinner, and my evening pipe, all the better for them.”

“The thing is this, Will -   you don’t know, when you begin, whether you are going to be one of the men who ­like my John ­is content with his pint of beer, and his glass of grog; or whether you will be one of them as can’t touch liquor without wanting to make beasts of themselves.  Therefore the safest plan is, don’t touch it at all ­leastways, till you’ve served your time.  The others may laugh at you, at first; but they won’t like you any the worse for it.”

“Thank you, ma’am.  I will make up my mind to that ­not to touch liquor till I am out of my apprenticeship.  After that, I can see for myself.”

“That’s right, lad.  When you come back from your first trip, you can join the lodge, if you like.  I and my girls are members.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Will said; “but I won’t take any pledge.  I have said I will not do it, and I don’t see any use in taking an oath about it.  If I am so weak as to break my word, I should break my oath.  I don’t know why I shouldn’t be able to trust myself to do as I am willed, in that way as in any other.  If I’d a craving after it, it might be different; but I never have tasted it, and don’t want to taste it, so I don’t see why I can’t trust myself.”

“Yes, I think as how you can trust yourself, Will,” the woman said, looking at him; “and I’ve noticed often that it isn’t them who say most, as do most.

“Now, I daresay you are sleepy.  There’s my boy’s bed for you.  He is fourth hand in one of the smacks at sea.”

The next morning Will was out of bed the instant he was called, excited at the thought that he was going really to sea.  The skipper’s wife had tea made, and the table laid.

“Here,” she said, “are some oilskin suits my boy has given up.  They will suit you well enough for size and, although they are not as good as they were, they will keep out a good deal of water, yet.  You will get half-a-crown a week, while you are at sea so, by the time you get back, you will have enough to buy yourself a fresh suit.”

Half an hour later Will was at work, getting two spare sails and the last of the stores on board.

“Now, Bill, come below,” the skipper said.  “I will show you your bunk.”

The cabin was larger than Will had expected.  It was about twelve feet square, and lofty enough for a tall man to stand upright.  By the side of the companion stairs was a grate, on which a kettle was boiling; and this, as he afterwards learned, was a fixture, except when cooking was going on, and the men could have tea whenever they chose.  Round three sides of the cabin extended lockers, the tops forming seats.  Above were what looked like cupboards, running round the sides; but the skipper pushed open a sliding door, and showed a bed place.

“That is your bunk,” he said.  “You see, there are two at the end, and one each side, above, and as many under them ­eight bunks, in all.  You will have to help Jack ­that is the other boy ­in cooking, and make yourself useful, generally, in the day.  The crew are divided into two watches, but you will not have much to do on deck.  If the night is clear you can sleep, except when the trawl is being got up.  Of a thick or stormy night, you will keep your watch.

“Now, as the other lad is more handy on deck than you are, you can take charge here.  All you have to do is to see that the kettle is kept boiling.  You can come on deck and lend a hand, if wanted; but you must come down sometimes, and see the fire is all right.”

After inspecting the contents of the kettle, and seeing that it was full, Will climbed up the steep ladder again; and was soon working away, coiling down the ropes with the other lad, while the crew hoisted sails and got the boat under weigh.

“Are there only two hands under the captain?” he asked the other boy.

“There are two others,” the boy said.  “They will come on board after we get out of the river, and you’ll see they will be just as drunk as they can stand.”

“What, drunk at this time in the morning?”

“Yes, they got drunk last night and, as they won’t have fairly slept it off, they will be beginning again this morning.  The old man will look them up, and get them off.”

“Who is the old man?”

“Old Eastrey, of course, stupid.

“I wish they were all on board.  There’s a fine breeze, and I hate wasting four or five hours off the bar, waiting for the hands to come off.”

“I wonder the old man stands it,” Will said.

“He can’t help it,” the other answered.  “Scarce a smack goes out of Yarmouth without half the hands being drunk, when she starts.  They don’t get much chance afterwards, you see; and they sleep it off by night, so it don’t make any odds.  Our skipper is always sober, and that’s more than many of them are.  I have gone out when me and the other boy were the only two sober on board.”

“But isn’t it very dangerous?”

“Dangerous?  No,” the boy said, “one of them is sure to be sober enough to manage to stand at the helm and, though I’ve bumped pretty heavy on the sands, sometimes, we generally strike the channel.  There is no fear of anything else.  We never start, if a gale is blowing; and the smacks are safe in anything but a gale.  They are too deep to capsize and, at sea, there’s no more drinking.”

The smack dropped down the river and stood, off and on, near its entrance.  Will was delighted with the bright sea, dotted with ships and fishing craft.  The sun was shining, and there was just enough wind to send the smack along briskly through the water, without raising any waves sufficiently high to give her a perceptible motion.  At eight o’clock the captain went on shore in the boat, with a man, to look after the absent sailors; leaving only one hand and the two boys on board.  At ten the boat was again seen, coming out.

“One, two, three, four,” the boy said, “he has got them both.  Now we shall be off.”

The boat was soon alongside.  The two drunken men were helped on board and, at once, went below to sleep themselves sober.  Then the boat was hoisted on board and, the second hand taking the helm, the Kitty started fairly on her way.

“Now,” the captain said, “let us get her a little tidy.”

It took some hours’ work before the deck was washed, the ropes coiled down, and everything ship-shape.  By the time all was done, the low coast of Norfolk had sunk below the horizon, and the smack was far out at sea.  There was more motion now, but the wind was still light.

The skipper was pleased with the earnestness and alacrity which the new apprentice showed.

“Now, Jack,” he said to the other boy, “take Will below with you, and show him how to make tea.”

The process of tea making, on board a smack, is not a difficult one to master; the sole operation consisting in putting a few more spoonfuls of tea into the kettle boiling over the fire, when it begins to get low, and filling up with fresh water.  But, simple as the thing was, William Gale did not learn it on that occasion.  He had been feeling somewhat shaky, even while on deck; and the heat of the cabin, and the smell of some grease which Jack had just put in the frying pan, preparatory to cooking some fish brought off from shore, completed the effect of the rising sea.  Until next morning he was not in a condition to care, even had the tea remained unmade to the end of time.  He did not go below, but lay under the shelter of a tarpaulin, on deck.

In the morning, the skipper roused him up.

“Now, lad, just take off your coat and shirt.  Here is a bucket of water.  Put your head in that, and give yourself a good sluice; and then come down and have a cup of tea, and a bit of biscuit, and you will find yourself all right again.”

Will followed the instructions, and found himself wonderfully better.

“Now, lad, lend a hand in tidying up on deck.  There is nothing like work, for keeping off seasickness.  Jack shall cook, for today.”

The boy set to work with a will; and felt so refreshed that, by one o’clock, he was able to go below and take his share of the dinner.  At present, while on their way to the fishing grounds, their meals were taken at the same time as on shore but, once at work, there were only two meals a day.  Of these the first was taken when the fishing was over, the fish cleaned, picked, weighed, and packed ­the hour varying between nine and eleven.  The second meal was taken before the trawl was lowered, at six or seven o’clock in the evening.

After five days’ sailing, the smack arrived off the fishing ground; but another two days were spent in finding the fleet, as the fishing grounds extend over a distance of some hundreds of miles.  When they came up with it, William Gale was astonished at the vast number of boats that dotted the sea.

In the Yarmouth fleet there are between four and five hundred vessels and, were it not that the most perfect order and discipline reign, the number of accidents which would occur, from so many boats fishing close to each other at night, would be terrible.  The fleet is commanded by one of the most experienced skippers, who is termed the admiral.  His authority is absolute.  He leads the fleet to the grounds he selects for fishing and, by signals by day and rockets by night, issues his orders ­when the nets are to be lowered down and drawn up, the course which is to be steered, and the tack on which they are to stand.

The fishing is entirely done at night.  The trawls are let down about dusk, and the fleet attached to these moving anchors forge slowly ahead and to leeward, until daybreak.  Then the trawls are got in, and the fleet sail in a body to the spot where the admiral decides that fishing shall be continued in the evening.  At 10 o’clock at night the trawls are hauled in, and the nets emptied.  All hands are called up for this operation.  When it is concluded, the trawl is again lowered and the fish cleaned and packed; by the light of a torch formed of rope, dipped in tar.  The watch who have hitherto been on deck turn in, and the others remain on deck until morning, when the nets are again hauled in.

There is not, indeed, much for the watch to do; as the smack needs no steering, and the attention of the men on deck is directed chiefly to see that no other smack drifts down upon them.  Should there appear any danger of this, a flare is lit to warn the other smacksmen.  The trawl rope is slacked out or hauled in, as the case may require and, generally, volleys of strong language pass between the respective crews.

The trawl beam is a heavy pole, some 30 or 35 feet long.  At each end are fitted strong iron hoops, of about three feet in diameter.  These keep the pole from touching the ground, and keep open the mouth of the net; one side of which is attached to the pole, while the other drags along the bottom.  The net resembles in shape a long, deep purse; and has various pockets and other contrivances by which, when a fish has once entered its mouth, it is prevented from returning.

The trawl rope ­which is from 40 to 80 yards in length, according to the depth of water ­is hauled in by means of a winch; and its great weight taxes the united strength of the crew, to get it level with the bulwark.  When it is up, the net is hauled on board, the small end is opened, and the fish tumble on to the deck.  They are then separated and packed in trunks ­as the wooden cases, in which they are sent to market, are called.

Soles fetch by far the highest price, and fortunate are the crew who get a good haul of this fish; for the men work upon shares, an account being kept of all the sales made, during the fishing trip.  The owner deducts the cost of the provisions and stores which have been put on board, and takes one or more shares for the vessel.  Each man has one share, the skipper and mate receiving rather a larger proportion than the others; thus the men have a lively interest in each haul, and great is the satisfaction when the net comes up well filled, and there is seen to be a good proportion of soles among the contents.

The coarse fish ­as they are called ­include brill, haddock, hake, ling, whiting, and many others.  Turbot are also caught.  In each haul there would probably be a vast number of objects which would delight the heart of a naturalist.  Dog fish, too, are sometimes taken; as are conger eels, and horse mackerel.  Stones, and oysters, too, come up in the nets; and the latter are the bêtes-noires of the fishing.  Sometimes, when the fleet gets over a bed of oysters, a score of nets will be lost in a single night for, when the bag becomes full of oysters, its weight is so great that the utmost power of the fishermen’s exertions, on the winch, is insufficient to lift it from the bottom; and there is nothing to be done but to cut the rope, and abandon trawl and net.  Upon these occasions the language applied to the admiral is scarcely of a kind for polite ears.

The food of the crews, when once upon the fishing ground, consists almost wholly of fish.  With the exception of soles, each man may select any fish he fancies from the glistening mass upon the deck; and the amount which each consumed at a meal at first astonished William Gale, accustomed as he was to meager workhouse rations.  He soon, however, found himself able to keep up with the rest; but the operation of frying seemed sometimes interminable, so many times had the pan to be filled and emptied.

Hard biscuits were eaten with the fish, and the whole washed down with copious draughts of tea, without milk.  Two or three times a week the men would, as a change, have a meal of salt meat; and on Sundays a duff ­or pudding ­of flour and currants was made.

A few days after joining the fleet the weather changed, the sky became gloomy and threatening.  The wind blew hard, and a heavy sea got up.  Will found that keeping watch at night ­which was pleasant enough on a fine, star-light night ­was a very different thing, now.  It was no joke looking ahead with the wind blowing fiercely, and showers of spray dashing into the eyes; and yet a vigilant watch must be kept for, if the rockets which ordered the hauling of the trawl were not noticed, some other smack, moving rapidly when released from the drag of its net, might at any moment come into collision with the smack.

Still more important was it to notice upon which side the trawl was to be lowered, after being emptied; and upon which tack the vessel was to proceed.  For a mistake in this respect would be certain to bring the smack across another; in which case the trawl ropes would become entangled ­involving, in a heavy sea, the certain loss of one or the other.  Many of the smacks carry dogs, and it is found that these become even better watchers than their masters; for they can be relied on to call the attention of the watch, by sharp barking, to the letting up of the rocket, however distant.

A rocket may seem to be an easy thing to see but, in a large fleet, the stern-most smacks may be three or four miles away from the leaders and, in a dark, thick night, it is exceedingly difficult to make out even a rocket, at that distance.

The wind increased to a gale.  The trawls were up now, and the fleet lay to.  It may be explained that this operation is performed by bringing a ship nearly into the eye of the wind, and then hauling the foresail across, and belaying the sheet.  The aft sail ­or mizzen ­is then hauled tight, and the tiller lashed amidships.  As the fore-sail pays the vessel off from the wind, the after sail brings her up again; and she is thus kept nearly head to sea, and the crew go below, and wait till the storm abates.