nature, we think, more soothing to the feelings
and at the same time more heart-stirring to the soul than the wide ocean
in a profound calm, when sky and temperature, health, hour, and other
surrounding conditions combine to produce unison of the entire being.

Such were the conditions, one lovely morning about the end of summer,
which gladdened the heart of little Billy Bright as he leaned over the
side of the _Evening Star_, and made faces at his own reflected image in
the sea, while he softly whistled a slow melody to which the gentle
swell beat time.

The _Evening Star_ was at that time the centre of a constellation--if we
may so call it--of fishing-smacks, which floated in hundreds around her.
It was the "Short Blue" fleet of deep-sea trawlers; so named because of
the short square flag of blue, by which it was distinguished from other
deep-sea fleets--such as the Grimsby fleet, the Columbia fleet, the
Great Northern, Yarmouth, Red Cross, and other fleets--which do our
fishing business from year's end to year's end on the North Sea.

But Billy was thoughtless and apt to enjoy what was agreeable, without
reference to its being profitable. Some of the conditions which
rejoiced his heart had the reverse effect on his father. That
gruff-spirited fisherman did not want oily seas, or serene blue skies,
or reflected clouds and sunshine--no, what he wanted was fish, and
before the _Evening Star_ could drag her ponderous "gear" along the
bottom of the sea, so as to capture fish, it was necessary that a
stiffish breeze should not only ruffle but rouse the billows of the
North Sea--all the better if it should fringe their crests with foam.

"My usual luck," growled David Bright, as he came on deck after a hearty
breakfast, and sat down on the bulwarks to fill his pipe and do what in
him lay to spoil his digestion--though, to do David justice, his powers
in that line were so strong that he appeared to be invulnerable to
tobacco and spirits. We use the word "appeared" advisedly, for in
reality the undermining process was going on surely, though in his case
slowly.

His "hands," having enjoyed an equally good breakfast, were moving
quietly about, paying similar attention to their digestions!

There was our tall friend Joe Davidson, the mate; and Ned Spivin, a man
of enormous chest and shoulders, though short in the legs; and Luke
Trevor, a handsome young fellow of middle size, but great strength and
activity, and John Gu