t fixed. But,
trust me, you shall know all in good time."

As they had now reached the foot of Mrs Martin's stair, the subject was
dropped.

They found the good woman in the act of supplying Granny Martin with a
cup of tea. There was obvious improvement in the attic. Sundry little
articles of luxury were there which had not been there before.

"You see, my boy," said Mrs Martin to Fred, as they sat round the
social board, "now that the Lord has sent me enough to get along without
slavin' as I used--to do, I takes more time to make granny comfortable,
an' I've got her a noo chair, and noo specs, which she was much in want
of, for the old uns was scratched to that extent you could hardly see
through 'em, besides bein' cracked across both eyes. Ain't they much
better, dear?"

The old woman, seated in the attic window, turned her head towards the
tea-table and nodded benignantly once or twice; but the kind look soon
faded into the wonted air of patient contentment, and the old head
turned to the sea as the needle turns to the pole, and the soft murmur
was heard, "He'll come soon now."

CHAPTER SEVEN.

A RESCUE.

Never was there a fishing smack more inappropriately named than the
_Fairy_,--that unwieldy iron vessel which the fleet, in facetious
content, had dubbed the "Ironclad," and which had the honour of being
commanded by that free and easy, sociable--almost too sociable--skipper,
Ned Bryce.

She was steered by Dick Martin on the day of which we now write. Dick,
as he stood at the helm, with stern visage, bloodshot eyes, and
dissipated look, was not a pleasant object of contemplation, but as he
played a prominent part in the proceedings of that memorable day, we are
bound to draw attention to him. Although he had spent a considerable
portion of the night with his skipper in testing the quality of some
schnapps which they had recently procured from a _coper_, he had
retained his physical and mental powers sufficiently for the performance
of his duties. Indeed, he was one of those so-called seasoned casks,
who are seldom or never completely disabled by drink, although
thoroughly enslaved, and he was now quite competent to steer the _Fairy_
in safety through the mazes of that complex dance which the deep-sea
trawlers usually perform on the arrival of the carrying-steamer.

What Bryce called a chopping and a lumpy sea was running. It was
decidedly rough, though the breeze was moderate, so that the sma