We rowed into a bay whose wide-spreading arms were like an amphitheatre of shadows. "Take thees yer oar," said Uncle Jake. "Wer's thic cod's head?" Everywhere in the boat, to judge by one's nose. He found it, hacked it, then beat it with a pebble, and hacked again, and tore. From it came two awful separate smells--one like that of a dissecting room, the other like bad crab's inside, or like fearfully perverted cocoa, just wetted--a sort of granulated stink that stopped one's breath. Beautiful bait! "Now then, while I fixes the bait between the thirts," said Uncle Jake, "yu paddle westward. Keep 'en straight, else if a bit of a breeze comes, us'll never find the buoys." While I rowed very slowly, he flung overboard first a buoy and then its net, a buoy and its net, till he had hove the whole sixteen with about four boat's lengths between each. The _plop_ was echoed from the cliff, and as the nets sank the sea-fire glittered green upon them. He drew on a ragged pair of oilskin trousers, stationed himself on the starboard side of the stern-sheets, and grasped the longer tiller. On account of the ebb tide and consequent lay of the corks, we worked back, in reverse order, eastwards. It was for me to row the boat up until the bow was just inside the large buoy. Then Uncle Jake's directions, more or less abbreviated, came fast one after another: _Back outside oar_ (or _Pull inside oar_), to bring the bows round towards the buoy. _Pull both oars_, to bring the boat up to the buoy. _Pull outside oar_, to bring the stern of the boat a nice striking distance from the line between the buoy and the small corks. (Uncle Jake strikes under and up with the tiller.) _Pull both oars_, while he hauls in the loose line. _Back both_, to stop the boat's way. _Back outside oar_, to keep the line just clear of the gunwale. _Stop_, while he hauls very slowly and stealthily at first, lest prawns and lobsters jump out, then swiftly, raising his arms high above his head, until the net is aboard. So, in single and even half strokes, with variations according to current and wind, for all the sixteen buoys and nets. Whilst Uncle Jake, on his part, dropped the prawns into a bag which hung from his neck, flung the wild-crabs amidships, and the lobsters under the stern seat, and hove out the net again a few yards from where it was at first--I, on my part, had to spy the next buoy, a mere rocking blot on the water, to find out how the line lay from it, and then to hold the boat steady till he was ready with the tiller. After a time, one became a little mazed, one's head ached with screwing it round to sight the buoys, and his directions ceased so long as everything was going right. [Sidenote: _MAKING THE ROUNDS_]