"Any signs?" shouted Kisseck.
"Ay," said Danny, "the mar-fire's risin'."
The wind had dropped, and luminous patches of phosphorescent light in the water were showing Danny that the herring were stirring.
"Let's make a shot; up with the gear," said Kisseck; and preparations were made for shooting the nets over the quarter.
"Davy Cain (the mate), you see to the lint. Tommy Tear, look after the corks. Danny—where's that lad?—look to the seizings; d'ye hear?"
Then the nets were hauled from below and passed over a bank board placed between the hatchway and the top of the bulwark. Davy and Tommy shot the gear, and as the seizings came up, Danny ran aft and made them fast to the warp near the taffrail.
When the nets were all paid out, every net in the drift being tied to the next, and a solid wall of meshes nine feet deep had been swept away for half a mile behind them, Kisseck shouted, "Down with the sheets."
The sails were taken in, the mainmast—made to lower backward—was dropped, and only the drift-mizzen was left to keep the boat's head to the wind.
"Up with the light there," shouted Kisseck.