"Sure you ain't give us the wrong un?"
And several people laughed hoarsely.
On first going on board Oswald and Dicky had mentioned kegs, and had
been ordered to "Stow that!" so that Oswald had begun to fear that after
all it _was_ only a night's fishing, and that his glorious idea had been
abandoned.
But now he saw the keg his trembling heart was reassured.
It got colder and colder. Dicky, in the cabin, was covered with several
coats richly scented with fish, and Oswald was glad to accept an oilskin
and sou'-wester, and to sit down on some spare nets.
Until you are out on the sea at night you can never have any idea how
big the world really is. The sky looks higher up, and the stars look
further off, and even if you know it is only the English Channel, yet it
is just as good for feeling small on as the most trackless Atlantic or
Pacific. Even the fish help to show the largeness of the world, because
you think of the deep deepness of the dark sea they come up out of in
such rich profusion. The hold was full of fish after the second haul.
Oswald sat leaning against the precious keg, and perhaps the bigness and
quietness of everything had really rendered him unconscious. But he did
not know he was asleep until the Viking man woke him up by kindly
shaking him and saying--
"Here, look alive! Was ye thinking to beach her with that there precious
keg of yours all above board, and crying out to be broached?"
So then Oswald roused himself, and the keg was rolled on to the fish
where they lay filling the hold, and armfuls of fish thrown over it.
"Is it _really_ only water?" asked Oswald. "There's an awfully odd
smell." And indeed, in spite of the many different smells that are
natural to a fishing-boat, Oswald began to notice a strong scent of
railway refreshment-rooms.
"In course it's only water," said the Viking. "What else would it be
likely to be?" and Oswald thinks he winked in the dark.
Perhaps Oswald fell asleep again after this. It was either that or deep
thought. Any way, he was aroused from it by a bump, and a soft grating
sound, and he thought at first the boat was being wrecked on a coral
reef or something.
But almost directly he knew that the boat had merely come ashore in the
proper manner, so he jumped up.
You cannot push a boat out of the water like you push it in. It has to
be hauled up by a capstan. If you don't know what that is the author is
unable to explain, but there is a picture of one.
When the boat was hauled up we got out, and it was very odd to stretch
your legs on land again. It felt shakier than being on sea. The
red-haired boy went off to get a cart to take the shining fish to
market, and Oswald decided to face the mixed-up smells of that cabin and
wake Dicky.
Dicky was not grateful to Oswald for his thoughtful kindness in letting
him sleep through the perils of the deep and his own uncomfortableness.
He said, "I do think you might have waked a chap. I've simply been out
of everything."
Oswald did not answer back. His is a proud and self-restraining nature.
He just said--
"Well, hurry up, now, and see them cart the fish away."
So we hurried up, and as Oswald came out of the cabin he heard strange
voices, and his heart leaped up like the persons who "behold a rainbow
in the sky," for one of the voices was the voice of that inferior and
unsailorlike coastguard from Longbeach, who had gone out of his way to
be disagreeable to Oswald and his brothers and sisters on at least two
occasions. And now Oswald felt almost sure that his disagreeablenesses,
though not exactly curses, were coming home to roost just as though they
had been.
"You're missing your beauty sleep, Stokes," we heard our Viking remark.
"I'm not missing anything else, though," replied the coastguard.
"Like half a dozen mackerel for your breakfast?" inquired Mr. Benenden
in kindly accents.
"I've no stomach for fish, thank you all the same," replied Mr. Stokes
coldly.
He walked up and down on the beach, clapping his arms to keep himself
warm.
"Going to see us unload her?" asked Mr. Benenden.
"If it's all the same to you," answered the disagreeable coastguard.
He had to wait a long time, for the cart did not come, and did not come,
and kept on not coming for ages and ages. When it did the men unloaded
the boat, carrying the fish by basketfuls to the cart.
Every one played up jolly well. They took the fish from the side of the
hold where the keg wasn't till there was quite a deep hole there, and
the other side, where the keg really was, looked like a mountain in
comparison.
This could be plainly seen by the detested coastguard, and by three of
his companions who had now joined him.
It was beginning to be light, not daylight, but a sort of ghost-light
that you could hardly believe was the beginning of sunshine, and the sky
being blue again instead of black.