“I hope mother will not be uneasy about us,” rejoined the youth, as he laid the edge of his hand upon the compass, directing it towards the lighthouse; “we have been a fortnight at sea, grandfather, and the tempests must have howled round the cottage fearfully o’ nights; it has blown hard ever since we came out, and not a fish caught, besides losing part of our nets.” “What, still uttering complaints!” exclaimed the veteran. “Look at your brother yonder, on the windless end; how fearlessly he sits and watches the ill-omened bird[4] which triumphs in a storm.” “He does not think of home,” replied the youth. “But what would become of mother, and Jane, and the little ones, should the Fisherman’s Family go to wreck?” “The Fisherman’s Family go to wreck!” reiterated the old man, stamping his foot upon the deck; “she’ll weather many a gale yet, my boy! Look at this white head!” and as he uncovered his hoary locks that wildly wantoned in the breeze, he presented a fine picture of Time steering inexperienced youth through the dangerous channels which beset human life. “Look at this white head!” he exclaimed; “the snows and storms of sixty-seven winters have passed over it, yet was I never deserted in peril by HIM in whom I have placed my trust. Your mother knows what a fisherman’s life is. Ay, boy, it was my pride to fortify her mind against adversity. But go, James, and help your father reef the bowsprit; for we shall have the gale here presently.” And a gale indeed they had; for scarcely was the glory of the day departed, when the wind, like a destroying angel, came sweeping over the surface of the deep, and dashing the billows up to heaven with fury. Night shed its blackness on the scene, whilst the dense fog rendered it more drear and horrible. Poor James thought of his mother and his happy home; whilst his brother Ned, though two years his junior, seemed like a child of the tempest, exulting in its lavish wildness. The Fisherman’s Family (for such was the name of the smack) rode buoyant on the waves; she rose and fell with the heave and set of the sea, like the swift-winged swallow when it stems the tempest; and the small bark scarcely felt the roughness of the billows, where larger vessels would have laboured fearfully with their heavy burdens.