sea-urchin bears to a cockle-shell. Nevertheless Manx was a real
admiral--as real as Nelson, and much harder worked.

His fleet of nearly two hundred fishing-smacks lay bobbing about one
fine autumn evening on the North Sea. The vessels cruised round each
other, out and in, hither and thither, in all positions, now on this
tack, now on that, bowsprits pointing north, south, east, and west, as
if without purpose, or engaged in a nautical game of "touch."
Nevertheless all eyes were bent earnestly on the admiral's vessel, for
it was literally the "flagship," being distinguishable only by a small
flag attached to its fore stay.

The fleet was hovering, awaiting orders from the admiral. A fine smart
"fishing breeze" was blowing. The setting sun sparkled on the
wave-crests; thin fleecy clouds streaked the sky; everything gave
promise of a satisfactory night, and a good haul of fish in the morning.

With the quiet air of an amiable despot Manx nodded his venerable head.
Up went the signal, and in a few minutes the fleet was reduced to order.
Every smack swept round into position, and, bending over on the same
tack, they all rushed like a shoal of startled minnows, away in the same
direction--the direction signalled by the admiral. Another signal from
our venerable despot sent between one and two hundred trawl-nets down to
the bottom of the sea, nets that were strong enough to haul up tons of
fish, and rocks, and wreckage, and rubbish, with fifty-feet beams, like
young masts, with iron enough in bands and chains to sink them, and so
arranged that the beams were raised a few feet off the ground, thus
keeping the mouths of the great nets open, while cables many fathoms in
length held the gears to their respective vessels.

So the North Sea Fishermen began the night's work--the _Nancy_, the
_Coquette_, the _Rattler_, the _Truant_, the _Faith_, the _Playfellow_,
the _Cherub_, and all the rest of them. Of course, although the breeze
was fresh, they went along slowly, because of the ponderous tails that
they had to draw.

Do you ask, reader, why all this order? why this despotic admiral, and
all this unity of action? why not "every man for himself"? Let me reply
by asking you to think for a moment.

Wind blowing in one direction, perhaps you are aware, does not
necessarily imply vessels sailing in the same direction. With variation
of courses possible, nearly two hundred tails out astern, and no unity
of action, there