“I think he’ll go,” Billy insisted.
In the meantime Job North had stood regarding his son.
“Well, son,” he sighed, “what you think about that net?” 56
“I think, sir,” said Donald, steadily, between his teeth, “that the net should come in.”
Job North patted the boy on the back. “’Twould be wise, b’y,” said he, smiling. “Come, b’y; we’ll go fetch it.”
“So long, Don!” Billy Topsail shouted delightedly.
Donald and his father put out in the punt. There was a fair, fresh wind, and with this filling the little brown sail, they were soon driven out from the quiet water of the harbour to the heaving sea itself. Great swells rolled in from the open and broke furiously against the coast rocks. The punt ran alongshore for two miles, keeping well away from the breakers. When at last she came to that point where Job North’s net was set, Donald furled the sail and his father took up the oars.
“’Twill be a bit hard to land,” he said.
Therein lay the danger. There is no beach along that coast. The rocks rise abruptly from the sea––here, sheer and towering; there, low and broken. When there is a sea running, the swells roll in and break against these rocks; and when the breakers catch a punt, they are certain to smash it to splinters. 57
The iron stake to which Job North’s net was lashed was fixed in a low ledge, upon which some hardy shrubs had taken root. The waves were casting themselves against the rocks below, breaking with a great roar and flinging spray over the ledge.