sir,” said one of the watch on deck, putting his head down the hatch at that moment.

Lockley went on deck at once. Another moment, and the shout came down—“Haul! Haul all!”

Instantly the sleepers turned out all through the fleet. Oiled frocks, sou’-westers, and long boots were drawn on, and the men hurried on the decks to face the sleet-laden blast and man the capstan bars, with the prospect before them of many hours of hard toil—heaving and hauling and fish-cleaning and packing with benumbed fingers—before the dreary winter night should give place to the grey light of a scarcely less dreary day.