isherman's life began. At the end of a month Joe looked
a pretty object, for he had not washed himself all the time, and his
hair and beard were like rough felt matting. There isn't much time for
washing in the winter, and the fellows often go for a couple of months
without feeling any water, except from the seas that are shipped. After
the month was over the men began to pick up heart, and they notched off
the days on the beams with much enjoyment.

Joe was like most of the fishermen: he liked to talk to the gulls. You
see, when you are knocking around for a couple of months, you soon tire
of your own shipmates, and there is no one else to talk with. The sea
mostly makes it awkward to put out a boat except for purely business
purposes, and you gradually get into the way of taking delight in small
things. Joe would go aft, and call, "Kittee, Kittee--come, Kittee!" Then
with superb curves the lovely gulls swept round, and remained delicately
poised over the stern. Joe flung pieces of fish into the air, and kept
chatting volubly as his pets swooped and squabbled. "Go and tell them
we're coming, Kittee, my prittee. Only twenty days more and round she
goes. Tell them we're all well, you sluts, and you'll have plenty of
fish when we run out again." The gulls are the fisherman's friends, and
the men insist on crediting the beautiful, rapacious birds with an
accurate knowledge of human affairs.

So the days flew by, and the time came when sugar--the seaman's luxury
in winter--began to run short. That was enough to make the fellows sick
for home, and they were ready to dance for joy when the gay flag was
hoisted at last. Gaily the Esperanza rattled through the fleet, and
envious men cried "What cheer!" in a doleful manner. After a twelve
hours' run the wind fell away, and the sky began to look funny. Hoarse
vague noises came over the sea, and it seemed as if certain sounds were
growing weary and swooning away. Little breaths of air came softly--oh,
so softly, and so deadly cold!--but the tiny puffs were hardly enough to
send a feather far. The birds wailed a good deal, and when the ducks
began to cry "Karm, kah-ah-arm," the men shouted, "Billee, run, Billee;
or I'll bring the policeman!" for all the chaps hate to hear the ducks
yawping.

Clouds of haze moved around, and when the moon came up she seemed to be
glowering from her shroud. Joe was anxious to take in something, but the
skipper said, "Don't think there'll be much of