There were twenty barrels in this single net. By dint of fresh hands they got half of her in, and then the meshes began to break; the men leaned over the gunwale, and put their arms round blocks and masses of fish, and so flung them on board; and the codfish and dogfish snapped them almost out of the men's hands like tigers.
At last they came to a net which was a double wall of herring; it had been some time in the water, and many of the fish were dead; they tried their best, but it was impracticable; they laid hold of the solid herring, and when they lifted up a hundred-weight clear of the water, away it all tore, and sank back again.
They were obliged to cut away this net, with twenty pounds sterling in her. They cut away the twine from the head-ropes, and net and fish went to the bottom.
All hands were now about the cutter; Christie's nets were all strong and new; they had been some time in the water; in hauling them up her side, quantities of fish fell out of the net into the water, but there were enough left.
She averaged twelve barrels a net.
Such of the yawls as were not quite full crept between the cutter and the nets, and caught all they wanted.
The projector of this fortunate speculation suddenly announced that she was very sleepy.
Flucker rolled her up in a sail, and she slept the sleep of infancy on board her cutter.
When she awoke it was seven o'clock in the morning, and her cutter was creeping with a smart breeze about two miles an hour, a mile from Newhaven pier.
The yacht had returned to Granton, and the yawls, very low in the water, were creeping along like snails, with both sails set.
The news was in Edinburgh long before they landed. They had been discerned under Inch Keith at the dawn.
And the manner of their creeping along, when there was such a breeze, told the tale at once to the keen, experienced eyes that are sure to be scanning the sea.
Donkey-carts came rattling down from the capital.
Merchants came pelting down to Newhaven pier.
The whole story began to be put together by bits, and comprehended. Old Johnstone's cleverness was recalled to mind.
The few fishermen left at Newhaven were ready to kill themselves.
Their wives were ready to do the same good office for La Johnstone.
Four Irish merchants agreed to work together, and to make a show of competition, the better to keep the price down within bounds.
It was hardly fair, four men against one innocent unguarded female.
But this is a wicked world.
Christie landed, and proceeded to her own house; on the way she was met by Jean Carnie, who debarrassed her of certain wrappers, and a handkerchief she had tied round her head, and informed her she was the pride of Newhaven.
She next met these four little merchants, one after another.
And since we ought to dwell as little as possible upon scenes in which unguarded innocence is exposed to artful conspiracies, we will put a page or two into the brute form of dramatic dialogue, and so sail through it quicker.
_1st Merchant._ "Where are ye going, Meggie?"
_Christie Johnstone._ "If onybody asks ye, say ye dinna ken."
_1st Mer._ "Will ye sell your fish?"
_Christie._ "Suner than gie them."
_1st Mer._ "You will be asking fifteen shillin' the cran."
_Christie._ "And ten to that."
_1st Mer._ "Good-morning."
_2d Mer._ "Would he not go over fifteen shillings? Oh, the thief o' the world!-- I'll give sixteen."
_3d Mer._ "But I'll give eighteen."
_2d Mer._ "More fool you! Take him up, my girl."
_Christie._ "Twenty-five is my price the day."
_3d Mer._ "You will keep them till Sunday week and sell their bones."
_[Exeunt the three Merchants. Enter 4th Merchant._
_4th Mer._ "Are your fish sold? I'll give sixteen shillings."
_Christie._ "I'm seeking twenty-five, an' I'm offered eighteen.
_4th Mer._ "Take it." _[Exit._
_Christie._ "They hae putten their heads thegither."
Here Flucker came up to her, and told her there was a Leith merchant looking for her. "And, Custy," said he, "there's plenty wind getting up, your fish will be sair hashed; put them off your hands, I rede ye."
_Christie._ "Ay, lad! Flucker, hide, an' when I play my hand sae, ye'll run in an cry, 'Cirsty, the Irishman will gie ye twenty-two schellin the cran.'"
_Flucker._ "Ye ken mair than's in the catecheesm, for as releegious as ye are."
The Leith merchant was Mr. Miller, and this is the way he worked.
_Miller (in a mellifluous voice)._ "Are ye no fatigued, my deear?"
_Christie (affecting fatigue)._ "Indeed, sir, and I am."
_Miller._ "Shall I have the pleasure to deal wi' ye?"
_Christie._ "If it's your pleasure, sir. I'm seekin' twenty-five schellin."
_Miller (pretending not to hear)._ "As you are a beginner, I must offer fair; twenty schellin you shall have, and that's three shillings above Dunbar."
_Christie._ "Wad ye even carted herrin with my fish caller fra' the sea? and Dunbar--oh, fine! ye ken there's nae herrin at Dunbar the morn; this is the Dunbar schule that slipped westward. I'm the matirket, ye'll hae to buy o' me or gang to your bed" _(here she signaled to Flucker)._ "I'll no be oot o' mine lang."
_Enter Flucker hastily, crying:_ "Cirsty, the Irishman will gie ye twenty-two schellin."
"I'll no tak it," said Christie.
"They are keen to hae them," said Flucker; and hastily retired, as if to treat further with the small merchants.
On this, Mr. Miller, pretending to make for Leith, said, carelessly, "Twenty-three shillings, or they are not for me."
"Tak the cutter's freight at a hundre' cran, an' I'm no caring," said Christie.
"They are mine!" said Mr. Miller, very sharply. "How much shall I give you the day?"
"Auchty pund, sir, if you please--the lave when you like; I ken ye, Mr. Miller."
While counting her the notes, the purchaser said slyly to her:
"There's more than a hundred cran in the cutter, my woman."
"A little, sir," replied the vender; "but, ere I could count them till ye by baskets, they would lose seven or eight cran in book,* your gain, my loss."
*Bulk.
"You are a vara intelligent young person," said Mr. Miller, gravely.
