But hollo! There goes the fire on the hill again. What does it mean? Another boat? No; but the same one is about. Again all is consternation and wonder, until the old boat-builder says quietly: 'He's weel acquaint. It's ane o' oor ain folk, an' he's gaun to dodge aboot expeck'n the wind to tak aff.' And he is right too; for the boat only comes near enough not to be _too_ near, then 'bout ship and out again. After a time another boat heaves in sight, then another, until, by about five o'clock in the evening, there are eleven boats tossing about out there on that wild sea, in sight of home, waiting for the storm to abate and the sea go down. News has also come to hand of the safety of other six of the thirty boats that went out from here last night, so that there is still about half of them to be heard of yet, should those in the offing turn out to belong to the place.
Well, it did 'tak aff;' and by nine o'clock that night fourteen boats managed to get safely into the harbour, though with great difficulty and danger.
What a sight was that also! A well-manned salmon coble kept afloat in the fairway ready for an emergency, and at the same time giving confidence to those in the boats taking the harbour. The pier crowded with men, women, and children, anxiously, silently, watching each boat through the peril. Then the greetings and questionings of the tired, starving fishermen, whom the sea seems to have given up.
Still lots of the boats have yet to be heard of, and many a one wanders the whole night through, unable to rest in his anxiety for the missing ones. Next day, however, all are accounted for. All safe, except one boat with a crew of five, swamped out at sea, in that dreadful August storm, and all hands drowned; and it has proved a 'sair, sair nicht' for the poor old fisherman with whose words I began this sketch, for one of his stalwart sons was one of that crew of five, who leave four widows and thirteen 'faitherless bairns;' proving how appropriate it is in regard to the pursuit of the 'caller herrin'' that
Wives and mithers maist despairin' Ca' them _lives o' men_.
[1] Herring boats frequently ride out a gale at sea by being made fast by stout ropes to the nets, which answer the purpose of an anchor. In this position the boat is said to be 'hanging by' the net.