sou'wester. It was past sundown; a smart breeze was blowing off the land as they rounded the Contrary Head and crossed the two streams that flow there. It was not yet too dark, however, to see the coast-line curved into covelets and promontories, and to look for miles over the hills where stretched the moles and hillocks of gorse and tussacs of long grass.
The twilight deepened as they rounded Niarbyl Point and left the Calf Islet on their lee, with Cronte-nay-Ivey-Lhaa towering into the gloomy sky. When they sailed through Fleshwick Bay the night gradually darkened, and they saw nothing of Ennyn Mooar. But the heavens lightened again and glittered with stars, and when they brought the lugger head to the wind in six fathoms of water outside Port Erin, the moon had risen behind Brada, and the steep and rugged headland showed clear against the sky.
"Have you found the herring on this ground at the same time in former seasons?" asked Christian of Kisseck.
"Not for seven years."
"Then why try now?"
"See the gull there. She's skipper to-night. She's showing us the fish."
And one after another the fleet brought to about them.
Danny Fayle had been leaning over the bow, and occasionally rapping with a stick at the timbers near the water.
"Any signs?" shouted Kisseck.
"Ay," said Danny, "the mar-fire's risin'."
