“Maybe she has fand the herrin',” said a ten-year-old. “Haw! haw! haw!” went the others. “She find the herrin', when there's five hundred fishermen after them baith sides the Firrth.” The youngster was discomfited. In fact the expedition bore no signs of fishing. The six boats sailed at sundown, led by Flucker. He brought to on the south side of Inch Keith, and nothing happened for about an hour. Then such boys as were awake saw two great eyes of light coming up from Granton; rattle went the chain cable, and Lord Ipsden's cutter swung at anchor in four fathom water. A thousand questions to Flucker. A single puff of tobacco-smoke was his answer. And now crept up a single eye of light from Leith; she came among the boats; the boys recognized a crazy old cutter from Leith harbor, with Christie Johnstone on board. “What is that brown heap on her deck?” “A mountain of nets--fifty stout herring-nets.” _Tunc manifesta fides._ A yell burst from all the boys. “He's gaun to tak us to Dunbar.” “Half a crown! ye're no blate.” Christie ordered the boats alongside her cutter, and five nets were dropped into each boat, six into Flucker's. The depth of the water was given them, and they were instructed to shoot their nets so as to keep a fathom and a half above the rocky bottom. A herring net is simply a wall of meshes twelve feet deep, fifty feet long; it sinks to a vertical position by the weight of net twine, and is kept from sinking to the bottom of the sea by bladders or corks. These nets are tied to one another, and paid out at the stern of the boat. Boat and nets drift with the tide; if, therefore, the nets touched the rocks they would be torn to pieces, and the fisherman ruined. And this saves the herring--that fish lies hours and hours at the very bottom of the sea like a stone, and the poor fisherman shall drive with his nets a yard or two over a square mile of fish, and not catch a herring tail; on the other hand, if they rise to play for five minutes, in that five minutes they shall fill seven hundred boats. At nine o'clock all the boats had shot their nets, and Christie went alongside his lordship's cutter; he asked her many questions about herring fishery, to which she gave clear answers, derived from her father, who had always been what the fishermen call a lucky fisherman; that is, he had opened his eyes and judged for himself. Lord Ipsden then gave her blue lights to distribute among the boats, that the first which caught herring might signal all hands. This was done, and all was expectation. Eleven o'clock came--no signal from any boat. Christie became anxious. At last she went round to the boats; found the boys all asleep except the baddish boy; waked them up, and made them all haul in their first net. The nets came in as black as ink, no sign of a herring. There was but one opinion; there was no herring at Inch Keith; they had not been there this seven years.