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At the end of the nine days there was little space beneath the

deck planks of the Charming Lass, but every night Pete would come

up, slapping his hands free of salt, and say, "Wal, boys, I guess

we can crowd another day's work into her," and the exhausted men

would gather themselves for another great effort as they rolled

forward into their bunks.

Every twenty-four hours they did crowd another day's work into

her, so that she carried nearly a hundred and fifty tons and the

dripping brine had to be pumped out of the hold.

It was the night of the day that opened this chapter.

The lanterns by which the men had dressed down had been lifted

from their supports, the cod livers dumped into the gurry-butt,

and the tables removed from the rails. The two men on the first

watch were sharpening the splitting knives on a tiny grindstone

and walking forward occasionally to see that the anchor and trawl

buoy lights were burning.