for the
other trawl and steam fishing boats were then quite in their infancy.
The quantity and variety of victims that came to our net were
prodigious, and the cruise has remained as a dream in my memory,
combined as it was with so many chances of helping out one of the most
interesting and amiable--if not educated--peoples in the world. It
happened to be a year of potato scarcity; as one friend pointed out,
there was a surplus of Murphys in the kitchen and a scarcity of
Murphys in the cellar--"Murphys" being another name for that vegetable
which is so large a factor in Irish economic life. As mentioned
before, a fund, called the Countess of Z.'s fund, had been established
to relieve the consequent distress, and while we were fishing in Black
Sod Bay, the natives around the shore were accepting all that they
could secure. Yet one steam trawler cleared four hundred pounds
within a week; and our own fine catches, taken in so short a while,
made it seem a veritable fishermen's paradise for us, who were
accustomed to toil over the long combers and stormy banks of the North
Sea. The variety of fish taken alone made the voyage of absorbing
interest, numbering cod, haddock, ling, hake, turbot, soles, plaice,
halibut, whiting, crayfish, shark, dog-fish, and many quaint monsters
unmarketable then, but perfectly edible. Among those taken in was the
big angler fish, which lives at the bottom with his enormous mouth
open, dangling an attractive-looking bait formed by a long rod growing
out from his nose, which lures small victims into the cavern, whence,
as he possesses row upon row of spiky teeth which providentially point
down his throat, there is seldom any returning.

Among the many memories of that coast which gave me a vision of the
land question as it affected the people in those days, one in
particular has always remained with me. We had made a big catch in a
certain bay, a perfectly beautiful inlet. To see if the local
fishermen could find a market within reach of these fishing grounds,
with one of the crew, and the fish packed in boxes, we sailed up the
inlet to the market town of Bell Mullet. Being Saturday, we found a
market day in progress, and buyers, who, encouraged by one of the new
Government light railways, were able to purchase our fish. That
evening, however, when halfway home, a squall suddenly struck our own
lightened boat, which was rigged with one large lugsail, and capsized
her. By swimming and manoeuvrin