ceived a bounty of L40 from the Congested Districts Board.
But there was no use in catching fish unless it could be quickly put
on the market, and again the necessary plant proved a matter involving
considerable expenditure. A derelict Norwegian ship, which two or
three years ago had been discovered at sea and towed into Queenstown
Harbour, was purchased from the salvors, and anchored in Killeany Bay,
outside the harbour of Kilronane, the capital city of the biggest
Aran, as an ice-hulk. The Board then entered into an agreement with
Mr. W.W. Harvey, of Cork, to market the mackerel at a fixed rate of
commission, it being also arranged that he should pay the fishermen
the English market price less by a deduction of 7s. a box to cover
the cost of ice-packing, carriage, and English salesman's commission.
The ice-hulk and boxes were provided by the Board, but Mr. Harvey was
to purchase the ice and defray all the cost of labour except the
salary of a manager.

In addition to the seven Arklow crews two boats were fitted out by
Miss Mansfield for training crews from the parish of Carna, in
Connemara; and Miss Skerritt also placed two English-built boats at
the Board's disposal for the training of crews from the pretty
watering place of Clifden, also in Connemara. An Aran hooker,
belonging to Innishmore, joined the little fishing fleet, bringing up
the number to exactly a dozen boats. The Rev. W.S. Green, a Protestant
parson, who is said to have first discovered these fishing grounds,
and who threw himself into the work with wonderful enthusiasm,
superintended the experiment in the steamer Fingal, which was
specially chartered for the purpose. Mr. Green as a skilled Fisheries
Inspector, knew what he was about, and he was empowered to lend nets,
where advisable, to the Aran beginners. Away they went to sea, to
start with a fortnight's heart-breaking luck. The water in those
regions was cold, and the fish were amusing themselves elsewhere. The
ice-hulk with its two hundred tons of Norwegian ice was waiting, and
its staff of packers might cool their ardour in the hold. The mackerel
would not come to be packed, and the dozen boats, with their master
and apprentice crews, cruised up and down on the deep blue sea, with
the blue sky overhead, and hope, like Bob Acres' valour, gradually
oozing out of their finger-ends. The Arklow men began to talk of going
home again. Altogether it was a blue look-out.

At last the luck turned. On Apr