eg your
pardon for keepin' you so long about this little matter."

He held out his hand. One after another the crushed sisters put their
delicate little hands into the seaman's enormous paw, and meekly bade
him good-bye, after which the nautical giant strode noisily out of the
house, shut the door with an inadvertent bang, stumbled heavily down the
dark stair and passage, and finally vanished from the scene.

Then Jessie and Kate Seaward returned to their little parlour, sat down
at opposite sides of the miniature grate, and gazed at each other for
some minutes in solemn silence--both strongly impressed with the feeling
that they had passed through a tremendous storm, and got suddenly into a
profoundly dead calm.

CHAPTER FOUR.

BILLY BRIGHT THE FISHER-BOY VISITS LONDON--HAS A FIGHT--ENLARGES HIS
MIND, AND UNDERTAKES BUSINESS.

We must now return to the _Evening Star_ fishing-smack, but only for a
few minutes at present. Later on we shall have occasion to visit her
under stirring circumstances. We saw her last heading eastward to her
fishing-ground in the North Sea. We present her now, after a two
months' trip, sailing to the west, homeward bound.

Eight weeks at sea; nine days on shore, is the unvarying routine of the
North Sea smacksman's life, summer and winter, all the year round. Two
months of toil and exposure of the severest kind, fair-weather or foul,
and little more than one week of repose in the bosom of his family--
varied by visits more or less frequent to the tap-room of the
public-house. It is a rugged life to body and soul. Severest toil and
little rest for the one; strong temptation and little refreshment to the
other.

"Strong temptation!" you exclaim, "what! out on the heaving billows and
among the howling gales of winter on the North Sea?"

Ay, stronger temptation than you might suppose, as, in the sequel, you
shall see.

But we are homeward bound just now. One of the gales above referred to
is blowing itself out and the _Evening Star_ is threading her way among
the shoals to her brief repose in Yarmouth.

The crew are standing about the deck looking eagerly towards the land,
and little Billy is steering. [See Frontispiece.]

Yes, that ridiculous atom of humanity, with a rope, or "steering
lanyard," round the tiller to prevent its knocking him down or sweeping
him overboard, stands there guiding the plunging smack on her course
through the dangerous shoals. Of course Billy'