London.

Then the fleet sheered off and fell into order, the admiral issued his
instructions, and away they all went again to continue the hard,
unvarying round of hauling and toiling and moiling, in heat and cold,
wet and dry, with nothing to lighten the life or cheer the heart save a
game at "crib" or "all fives," or a visit to the _coper_, that terrible
curse of the North Sea.

CHAPTER TWO.

ACCIDENTS AFLOAT AND INCIDENTS ASHORE.

Now, although it is an undoubted fact that the skippers of the North Sea
trawling smacks are first-rate seamen, it is an equally certain fact
that strong drink can render them unfit for duty. One of the skippers
was, if we may say so, unmanned by drink at the time the fleet sheered
off from the steam-carrier, as stated in the last chapter. He was named
Georgie Fox--better known in the fleet as Groggy Fox.

Unfortunately for himself as well as others, Skipper Fox had paid a
visit to one of the _copers_ the day before for the purpose of laying in
a stock of tobacco, which was sold by the skipper of the floating
grog-shop at 1 shilling 6 pence a pound. Of course Fox had been treated
to a glass of fiery spirits, and had thereafter been induced to purchase
a quantity of the same. He had continued to tipple until night, when he
retired in a fuddled state to rest. On rising he tippled again, and
went on tippling till his fish were put on board the steamer. Then he
took the helm of his vessel, and stood with legs very wide apart, an
owlish gaze in his eyes, and a look of amazing solemnity on his visage.

When a fleet sheers off from a steam-carrier after delivery of cargo,
the sea around is usually very much crowded with vessels, and as these
cross and re-cross or run past or alongside of each other before finally
settling into the appointed course, there is a good deal of hearty
recognition--shouting, questioning, tossing up of arms, and expressions
of goodwill--among friends. Several men hailed and saluted Fox as his
smack, the _Cormorant_, went by, but he took no notice except with an
idiotic wink of both eyes.

"He's bin to the _coper_," remarked Puffy, as the _Cormorant_ crossed
the bow of the _Lively Poll_. "I say, Lumpy, come here," he added, as
Bob Lumsden came on deck. "Have 'ee got any o' that coffee left?"

"No, not a drop. I gave the last o't to Fred Martin just as he was
goin' away."

"Poor Fred!" said Puffy. "He's in for suthin' stiff, I doubt, measles
or mu