THE FOUR MacNICOLS.BY WILLIAM BLACK.
This is the true story of how four lads in a fishing village in the North of Scotland, being left orphans by the drowning of their father, learned the great lesson of self-help.
They were the four MacNicols,--Robert, an active, stout-sinewed, black-eyed lad of seventeen; his two younger brothers, Duncan and Nicol; and his cousin Neil.
It was a sad evening for Rob MacNicol when the body of his father was brought home to their poor lodgings.It was his first introduction to the hard facts of life.
"Neil," said Rob to his cousin, "we'll have to think about things now.We have just about as much left as will pay the lodgings this week, and Nicol must go three nights a week to the night school.What we get for stripping the nets will not do now."--"It will not," said Neil.
"Neil," said he, "if we had only a net; do you not think we could trawl for cuddies?" And again he said, "Neil, do you not think we could make a net for ourselves out of the old rags lying about the shed?" And again he said, "Do you think that Peter the tailor would let us have his old boat for a shilling a week?"It was clear that Rob had been carefully considering the details of this plan.And it was eagerly welcomed, not only by Neil, but also by the brothers, Duncan and Nicol.
It was agreed, under Rob's direction, to set to work at once.So Rob bade his brothers and cousin get their rude fishing rods, and hie away down to the rocks at the mouth of the harbor, and see what fish they could get for him during the afternoon.
Meanwhile he himself went along to a shed which was used as a sort of storage house by some of the fishermen; and here he found lying about plenty of pieces of net that had been cast aside as worthless.
Rob was allowed to pick out a number of pieces that he thought might serve his purpose; and these he carried home.But then came the question of floats and sinkers.Enough pieces of cork to form the floats might intime be found about the beach; but the sinkers had all been removed from the castaway netting.
II.
Rob was a quick-witted lad, and soon formed the plan of rigging up a couple of guy poles, as the salmon fishers call them, one for each end of the small seine he had in view.These guy poles, with a lump of lead at the lower end, would keep the net vertical while it was being dragged through the water.
All this took up the best part of the afternoon; for he had to hunt about before he could get a couple of stout poles; and he had to bargain with the blacksmith for a lump of lead.Then he walked along to the point where the other MacNicols were busy fishing.
They had been lucky with their lines and bait.On the rocks beside them lay two or three small codfish, a large flounder, two good-sized lythe, and nearly a dozen saithe.Rob washed them clean, put a string through their gills, and marched off with them to the village.
He felt no shame in trying to sell fish: was it not the whole trade of the village? So he walked into the grocer's shop.
"Will you buy some fish?" said he; "they're fresh." The grocer looked at them.
"What do you want?" "A ball of twine."
"Let me tell you this, Rob," said the grocer severely, "that a lad in your place should be thinking of something else than flying a kite.""I don't want to fly a kite," said Rob, "I want to mend a net.""Oh, that is quite different," said the grocer.So Rob had his ball of twine--and a very large one it was.Off he set to his companions."Come away, boys, I have other work for you."III.
Well, it took them several days of very hard and constant work before they rigged up something resembling a small seine.Then Rob fixed his guy poles to it; and the lads went to the grocer, and got from him a lot of old rope, on the promise to give him a few fresh fish whenever they happened to have a good haul.Then Rob proceeded to his interview withPeter the tailor, who, after a good deal of grumbling, agreed to let them have his boat for a shilling a week.
Rob went back eager and joyous.Forthwith a thorough inspection of the boat was set about by the lads: they tested the oars, they tested the thole pins, they had a new piece of cork put into the bottom.For that evening, when it grew a little more toward dusk, they would make their first cast with their net.
Yes; and that evening, when it had quite turned to dusk, the people of Erisaig were startled with a new proclamation.It was Neil MacNicol, standing in front of the cottages, and boldly calling forth these words:--"IS THERE ANY ONE WANTING CUDDIES? THERE ARE CUDDIES TO BE SOLD AT THE WEST SLIP, FOR SIXPENCE A HUNDRED!"The sale of the cuddies went on briskly.Indeed, when the people had gone away there was not a fish left except a dozen that Rob had put into a can of water, to be given to the grocer as part payment for the loan of the ropes.
"What do you make it altogether?" said Neil to Rob, who was counting the money.
"Three shillings and ninepence."
"Three shillings and ninepence! Man, that's a lot! Will you put it in the savings bank?""No, I will not," said Rob."I'm not satisfied with the net, Neil.We must have better ropes all the way round; and sinkers, too."IV.
One afternoon, about ten days afterward, they set out as usual.They had earned more than enough to pay their landlady, the tailor, and the schoolmaster; and every farthing beyond these expenses they had spent on the net.
Well, on this afternoon, Duncan and Nicol were pulling away to one of the small, quiet bays, and Rob was idly looking around him, when he saw something on the surface of the sea at some distance off that excited a sudden interest.It was what the fishermen call "broken water,"--a seething produced by a shoal of fish.
"Look, look, Neil!" he cried."It's either mackerel or herring: shall we try for them?"The greatest excitement now prevailed on board.The younger brothers pulled their hardest for that rough patch on the water.
They came nearer and nearer that strange hissing of the water.They kept rather away from it; and Rob quietly dropped the guy pole over, paying out the net rapidly, so that it should not be dragged after the boat.
