of a light air from the south-west gave her gentle steerage way. Soon
not a boat was left in port; even those whose weather-wise "skeely" old
skippers had counselled caution, at length, against their will and
better judgment, were shamed into starting. After all, it was no great
distance they were going; with ordinary luck they might be back before
much wind came. And if the worst came to the worst and they were caught
out at sea, why, the boats were weatherly craft, manned by the best of
seamen, and an hour or two at the most would see them fight their way
back to port. It was all in the day's work. Nothing venture, nothing
win. If one may take a risk, so may another. It does not do to stand
idle in the background whilst one's neighbour by superior daring secures
the prize we also sorely need.

So by 9 A.M. the last boat of the five and forty had got to sea. Before
midday all had made an offing of eight or ten miles, and had started to
shoot their lines. Folk who had watched them creep out of the harbour
now gave no further heed, save perhaps that wives may chance to have
cast anxious looks seaward now and again. But none dreamt of evil.

Then of a sudden, as the morning passed, some on shore became aware of a
strange, death-like stillness that had fallen over all things, a feeling
of gloom and oppression in the air. The sun indeed still shone unclouded
over the land, but away out at sea to the north-east there was a
horrible canker of blackness that was eating up the sky, and that
already had hid from sight, as by a wall, those boats that lay farthest
from the land, whilst those still visible could be seen hurriedly
letting everything go by the run. Then the blackness shut down over all,
and men could but guess what was going on behind that terrible veil.
Over the town, as people deserted their houses and hurried to cliff or
sea wall, or wherever there seemed possibility of gaining sight or