The chase was now an ordinary affair, very like rat hunting: the birds, confused and dispersed, kept poking their heads up in all sorts of unexpected directions, and, as their dives were now short, one or other of the quick and experienced eyes was sure to detect them. As for missing, when they were once within shot, it was impossible to miss a bird nearly as big as a goose, and almost as heavy on the wing. Ten out of the twelve were bagged, and two only were unaccounted for, they having slipped away during the heat of the chase. The boats then formed line-of-battle again, and cruised on in search of other adventures.
Various little episodes occurred, in which one or two rare sea-gulls and other birds were brought down, as they hovered round the boats or crossed their course. Most gulls, indeed, evince a great deal of curiosity in their disposition, and a very dangerous quality this sometimes proves; but in this case the murders were committed exclusively for the sake of Science (who, by the way, must be a very cruel goddess), for the fishermen were a great deal too much of sportsmen to indulge in the vulgar gull-murder without object, which is called sport by maritime cockneys. Three or four other flocks of eider duck were sighted, and chased with various success; some, taking the alarm in time, contrived to dive and swim ahead of the boats, so as to elude them altogether; some, startled by too rapid approach, dived before they had time to draw together, and, breaking their order, appeared so many scattered black spots in different directions, most of which were necessarily lost while pursuing the others. But these mishaps were not of frequent occurrence, and a good heap of great ugly birds had already been collected, when, about noon, a light cat’s-paw ruffled the surface, frosting it over with little wavelets. At the time when this occurred it was quite unexpected; the boats were following a chain of bubbles, and all available eyes being fixed on them, no one was looking out into the offing.
In a moment the trace was lost; the birds might have risen, but the eye could no longer mark the clear, well-defined, black dot. Ten minutes afterwards all was calm again, but the flock were already safe.
“It is all over for to-day,” said Tom, looking anxiously into the offing, where a narrow line of darker blue had already begun to mark the hitherto undistinguishable boundary of sea and sky; “here comes the breeze already.”
And slowly but surely the line crept down, first widening, then throwing out ramifications before it; and then the sleepy surface of the sea seemed to shudder, as if touched by a cold breath; little wavelets began to ripple on the backs of the long swells,—then light airs fanned the boats uncertainly, and, at last, a steady breeze set in from the southward and westward.
“Up stick, for the cod ground!” said Tom; “we are only wasting time here.” And in a couple of minutes the three boats were running away to the eastward, under their English lugs, which, having hitherto served as tents, were now for the first time applied to their legitimate use.
The end of the chase had left them five or six miles to westward of the fjord’s mouth, and as far to seaward, while the fishing-ground was a sunken island or shoal, a couple of miles or so from the lighthouse near the outer range of islands;—it is called a shoal, and possibly, for Norway, it is a shoal; but there is not less than twenty fathoms on any part of it.
The boats were slipping along through the smooth water, as if they were going up and down the hills of an undulating road; the breeze, though very light, was steady, and already the features of the outer islands were growing distinct; and Tom was looking out for the bearings of the shoal.
“This is all very well,” said the Captain, steering his boat close to that of the Parson, “but I have had no breakfast.”