“The hooks is baited, and ye shall catch the first haddie for luck yersel’, mem,” resounded in our ears; and the roar of the sea kept up a strange accompaniment, as a seagull shrieked in triumph at our discomfiture. I dare not say no; I must risk disgracing myself, endure any agony of mind or body, but I must for the honour of Old England go and catch that first haddie. How the wretched folk struggled to get that boat into the sea! I remonstrated at the women going into the water and working so hard on my account, feeling particularly sympathetic when I thought of the rough sea awaiting us outside, but all to no avail. I assured them I should _not_ be disappointed if I could not catch the haddie to-day, I could easily come again; but no, they would struggle on, a few feet only at a time, always to be rebuffed again and again by the waves. At last Mr. Murray took off his cap, scratched his head, talked Gaelic to everyone in turn, and, after his consultation, came over to me and said, “I’m right sad, mem, but the haddie boatie can no’ go in the water the dee; she’d jist go to pieces on the rocks, whatever.” “Oh, I am so sorry, but don’t mind me,” I replied as graciously as I could, thankful for the deliverance. “Na, na, but the haddie for luck! We au wanted ye to catch the haddie for luck yersel’, mem.” “Oh, I’ll come another day and catch the haddie for luck,” and I inwardly thanked Heaven I had been saved the terrors of the deep. “To-morrow I will come again and catch the haddie, and paint the name on the boat, if you like.” “Oi, oi, paint the name yersel’, that’ll be fine; but ye’ll do it nice, now, won’t you? I want it weel done.” Who could be offended at such a remark, made without the slightest idea of rudeness? A little such honest, straight-forward speaking is a treat, not an offence, in these days of gilded sayings and leaden thoughts. I never caught that haddie, but I took my palette and painted the name in oils upon her sides, and happily the _Ethel Tweedie_ has proved one of the luckiest boats in the herring fleet. What a contrast those two launches were—the wealth of the one ship, the wealth of the onlookers, the wealth of the prospective passengers and cargo, the power and strength and value of it all. On the other side—the simplicity of the humble little craft, the simplicity of the fisher-folk, the simplicity of the life of the fishing village. Both were ships to go down to the sea, and yet how different. CHAPTER XVII LORD LI AND A CHINESE LUNCHEON