Then suddenly, when things were at their worst, the weather changed. The wind slewed round to another quarter, the turbid waters became clear, and the fisher-folk grew light-hearted, for at last the boats would put out to sea.
It was on the Monday of the last week in April that the fleet made preparations for sailing. Tregennis looked upon it as a lucky omen that on that very morning he had caught a rat on the “Light of Home.” For some days he had known the plaguey thing was there. Down in the cuddy-hole he had found an old coat of his bitten through in the sleeve. Some of the nets, too, had been gnawed in places, and he had had to be busy mending tackle. It is a grave matter when a rat boards a lugger, for there is no knowing how many more may follow. The four men on the “Light of Home” had laid trap after trap, temptingly baited, but without result.
Now this morning Tregennis had at last put an end to the plaguey varmint. As this trouble was overcome it was taken by the men as a sign that further good luck loomed ahead.
Miss Margaret went into the kitchen before breakfast and found Mrs. Tregennis packing the basket of food for Tregennis to take to sea.
“It do look a lot, don’t it, Miss? There isn’t much room on the boat, so you has to get it packed up tight as can be. They did oughter be back on Wednesday morning, but I puts in for a bit longer than that in case.”
“If you find your store of food running short, Tregennis,” advised Miss Margaret, “remember that you ought to chew a great number of times, forty-five chews to each bit of food I think it is, and then the supplies will last all the longer.”
“My dear life, Miss; ’e do just bolt his food.”
“Can’t seem to taste it, somehow, if I do keep it in my mouth,” Tregennis explained.
“He do eat his food too fast, Miss; I never knoo anyone eat so fast as ’e; I be always a-tellin’ ’e.”
“Well, he must practise this morning. Are you going to give him ham for breakfast, Mrs. Tregennis?”