Just before dawn next morning, Nathan Pendry, father of John Trevanion’s portmanteau carrier, the most experienced fisher in the village, took his stand at the extremity of the Beal, carrying his bush. Seaward, the sky was gloomy; in the east a pale orange and pink glow on the horizon announced the rising sun. The air was very still, only the slow ripples washing the sand at the foot of the cliff breaking the silence. In the fairway lay three boats, the largest of them a smack of eight tons burden, manned by six oarsmen, together with Tonkin and a fisher nearly as large as he. These men and the occupants of the other boats sat without speaking, their eyes fixed on the huer above. He stood motionless, gazing intently on the surface of the sea. Beyond the promontory the village was as yet asleep; one man stood solitary at the end of the jetty. Suddenly the huer bent forward, in an attitude of intense expectancy. A few minutes passed; then lifting himself he waved his bush aloft. His experienced eyes had detected a shadow in the water, moving across the bay in a direction parallel with the shore. Instantly the men in the first boat fell to their oars, and Tonkin, standing up in the stern, and making a trumpet of his hands, shouted, "Havar! havar!" towards the single figure on the jetty. This man repeated the cry; it was taken up in the village; and soon from every street and lane a crowd of men, women, and children poured up towards the cliffs, dressing themselves as they ran, and shouting, "Havar! havar! Yo-hoy, hoy, hoy!" Meanwhile the rowers were tugging at their oars with all their might, Ike Pendry, who was rowing bow, having his eyes fixed on his father, and directing the steersman in accordance with the movements of the bush. The ground behind the huer was now thronged with spectators, no longer shouting, but watching Pendry and the boatmen in tense silence. All at once the huer dropped his bush; the rowers shipped oars; and Tonkin and his mate grasped a long net, which had lain folded ready to their hands, and with a few deft movements shot it overboard. "Yo-hoy, yo-hoy!" broke from every throat. Then the crowd relapsed into silence, watching the further proceedings in the bay.