“They’ve sighted the boat,” she said. Then her unnatural composure gave way; she leaned up against the wall and sobbed.
Miss Margaret jumped out of bed, rescued the tray and put her arms around her.
“You darling,” she said. “You’ve been just so brave, it’s been wonderful.” And she and the Brown Lady cried too, cried until they laughed, then laughed until they cried again.
Crowds waited on the Frying Pan and on the quay to see the “Light of Home” come in. Her bows were knocked out with the lashing of the wind and the sea. But they had got the fish! The men were heavy with sleep, stunned with exposure, shaking with cold. But they had got the fish!
Bit by bit their story was told. When they had anchored on the Tuesday afternoon they had, of course, thrown out the boulter with the anchor. About nine o’clock that night when they wanted to sail along a bit they found the boulter had parted from the anchor. There was nothing for it but to make their way to the dan, cast anchor there and wait patiently until daylight. By this time all the other boats were sailing home. They secured the boulter all right, but they didn’t seem to have much fish. So they thought to wait a time longer, sailed farther southwards and anchored again.
Then the wind had come up somethin’ awful. As their lugger was not built for a heavy open sea, they reckoned to make for home. But they found that the strong spring tide had swept the boulter round so that it was firmly caught as ever was on some rock or somethin’ at the bottom o’ the sea. In workin’ another man’s gear you’d rather risk your life than leave the boulter behind! So again there was nothin’ for it but to wait; wait this time until the heavy tide turned and swept their boulter back again from the obstruction on which it had caught.
Hours they had had to wait for this, and even then they couldn’t get off. Ill-luck seemed to dog them, for once more the boulter parted; this time in the middle. How long they were ’eavin’ an’ pullin’ an’ gropin’ they couldn’t rightly say. For more than twenty-four hours they had had neither food nor fire. But they had got the fish and the owner of the boat had his boulter right enough, and that alone was a matter of twenty poun’ an’ more.
The catch of the “Light of Home” made a record sale. There, on the quay, the fish was all arranged in heaps—congers, ray, skate, cod, ling, hake, even a few turbot and halibut lying royally alone.
“There was certainly ’eaps of fish,” the auctioneer remarked, “and good fish at that.”