“Good Lord, Tommie,” said Billie, “you hove a line over my head to Andie Howe.”
“You pop-eyed Spanish mackerel!” roared Clancy at him, “you ought to know by this time that Andie can’t swim.”
“I know, but he was all oiled up, and look at me–––”
“Go to hell,” said Clancy.
We all got aboard after a while, but our fine new seine was gone, and the big school of fish too. After a hard grapple we got the dories and a little later the seine-boat, and after a lot more work we got them right side up. The dories we pulled the plugs out of to let them drain and then took them on deck, but the seine-boat we had to pump out. By then it was pretty well on in the night and I remember how the moon rose just as we had 86 it fairly well dried out and dropped astern––rose as big as a barrel-head and threw a yellow light over it, and then went out of sight, for a breeze was on us.
And “Oh, Lord! that thousand-barrel school!” groaned everybody.