'I know whom you would like to shoot—the skipper. He has taken a dislike to you, and tells me that you are the biggest scoundrel he ever had aboard.'
The mate smiled as he spoke, and added, after a few moments' interval: 'The skipper is a queer customer, and, if you take my advice, you will do all you can to please him. Anyhow, he says that you are to give a hand when we shoot and when we haul the trawl.'
'I am to be fisherman as well as cook. Is he going to pay me double wages?'
'You had better ask him. Got a mug of tea handy?'
Charlie had, and he gave it to him.
'We shall want tea again after shooting,' the mate said to Charlie as he replaced the mug on the hook.
Leaving the big kettle on the stove, Charlie went out to witness the preparations for beginning fishing, and was just in time to see the men anchor a small buoy, fitted with a light and a flag. This was anchored so that the Sparrow-hawk, by keeping it in sight, should not wander away from the fishing-ground. They were in about twenty-six fathoms of water, and, if they lost sight of the buoy, they would probably steam into deeper water, and the net would then be unable to reach the bottom. By day the fishermen keep within sight of the buoy-flag; by night they watch the buoy-light. In fishing fleets, when some twenty or thirty steam trawlers belong to one firm, an old smack called a 'mark-ship' is anchored on the fishing-ground. It can be seen for many miles in daylight, and by night its whereabouts is made known by rockets fired from it. But 'single boaters,' such as the Sparrow-hawk, have to rely upon their own little flag and light-buoys.
When the Sparrow-hawk had anchored her buoy she steamed off, and, punctually at five o'clock, 'shot her gear,' or, in plainer language, lowered her big triangular fishing-net. This having been done without a hitch, the men had their tea. Charlie took his in the galley, having determined to spend as little time as possible in the foc's'le. He had discovered that the crew of the Sparrow-hawk was composed of the black sheep of Grimsby and Hull. They were men whom no decent North Sea skipper would have had on his boat. On nearly all the trawlers working out of Yarmouth, Grimsby, and Hull, the men are fine, manly, thoroughbred Englishmen, facing danger fearlessly and uncomplainingly year in and year out. Drunkenness is almost unknown among them, and bad language is rarely heard. If Charlie had been on almost any other boat than the Sparrow-hawk he would have thoroughly enjoyed sitting at the foc's'le table, having a chat with the men. But to save a few pounds the skipper had engaged, at low wages, men who were known to be bad characters, and who could not, therefore, get a job on any other trawler. Skipper Drummond had himself been discharged for drunkenness by the owners of a fleet in whose employ he had been for some years. Where he got the money from to purchase a trawler was a mystery to most people, although it was discovered later that a betting-man was in partnership with him.
Charlie, being satisfied that the skipper intended to make an attempt to swindle his father, was anxious to get back to Lincoln as speedily as possible to make known what he had discovered. He had forgotten to ask the bow-legged cook how long the Sparrow-hawk would remain at sea, and could, therefore, form no idea of when he would get home.