“Ah, I see you want to become a fine lady now you are going to marry, and have an attendant of your own,” said the dame, laughing. “Bide a bit till you have need of help, and let my old limbs wag on while they have life in them.”
“That will be for many years to come, I hope, granny,” said Michael; “and to my eyes you don’t seem to have become a day older since I first remember you, and that’s longer than I can remember anything else; for I mind you holding me in your arms when father came home one day and gave me a fish to play with.”
“That was a good bit ago, Michael, to be sure, and I should not like to have to lift you up now, lad, strong as my arms still are,” answered the old dame, looking approvingly at the fine manly young fisherman as he stood before her. Nelly, too, gave him a glance of tender affection, and all three laughed merrily. Their hearts were light, for though theirs was a life of toil they willingly undertook their daily tasks, and were thankful for the blessings bestowed on them.
“It is time for me to be off,” said Michael; “Uncle Reuben stays on shore this evening, so I am to act captain. We shall be back, I hope, soon after ten, as he always wishes us to be home early on Saturday night, and as the weather looks pretty thick, and there is a nice lop of a sea on, we may expect to get a good haul.”
Michael kissed Nelly’s clear brow, and bestowed his usual “buss,” as he called it, on granny’s withered cheek; then shouldering his oilskin coat, he took his way towards the landing-place at the mouth of the harbour.
David and the rest of his crew were sitting about on the rocks with their short pipes in their mouths in readiness to go on board. Uncle Reuben had come down to see them off, and seemed half inclined to accompany them.
“If it were not for these aches in my back and sides, and that I promised my dame to stay on shore this evening, I would go with you, lads. But keep your weather eyes open. I cannot say I quite like the look of the weather. It may turn out fine, but it is very thick away to the southward.”
“It will be fine enough for what we want, Uncle Reuben, and the ‘Sea-Gull’ does not mind a bit of a swell and a stiffish breeze, and we shall be back again almost before there is time to send a second hand to the bellows,” answered Michael.
“God go with you, lads,” said the old fisherman as the lads sprang on board. “If the weather gets worse, haul your nets and make the best of your way back. We will keep the light burning on the point, so that you will not miss your road into harbour at all events.”
The “Sea-Gull” was shoved off, the oars got out, and, with her attendant drift-boat towing ahead, her hardy crew soon swept her out of the harbour. Her tanned sails were then hoisted, and, close-hauled, she stood away to beat up to her intended fishing-grounds some distance to the southward, off the Gull Rock.