I should have imagined that the sea would become very commonplace to men whose business was carried on in boats, and who had spent night after night and day after day from their boyhood on the water; but that is a mistake.  They have an awe of the sea and of its mysteries, and of what it hides away from us.  They are childish in their wonder at any strange creature which they find.  If they have not seen the sea-serpent, they believe, I am sure, that other people have, and when a great shark or black-fish or sword-fish was taken and brought in shore, everybody went to see it, and we talked about it, and how brave its conqueror was, and what a fight there had been, for a long time afterward.

I said that we liked to see the boats go out, but I must not give you the impression that we saw them often, for they weighed anchor at an early hour in the morning.  I remember once there was a light fog over the sea, lifting fast, as the sun was coming up, and the brownish sails disappeared in the mist, while voices could still be heard for some minutes after the men were hidden from sight.  This gave one a curious feeling, but afterward, when the sun had risen, everything looked much the same as usual; the fog had gone, and the dories and even the larger boats were distant specks on the sparkling sea.

One afternoon we made a new acquaintance in this wise.  We went down to the shore to see if we could hire a conveyance to the lighthouse the next morning.  We often went out early in one of the fishing-boats, and after we had stayed as long as we pleased, Mr. Kew would bring us home.  It was quiet enough that day, for not a single boat had come in, and there were no men to be seen along-shore.  There was a solemn company of lobster-coops or cages which had been brought in to be mended.  They always amused Kate.  She said they seemed to her like droll old women telling each other secrets.  These were scattered about in different attitudes, and looked more confidential than usual.

Just as we were going away we happened to see a man at work in one of the sheds.  He was the fisherman whom we knew least of all; an odd-looking, silent sort of man, more sunburnt and weather-beaten than any of the others.  We had learned to know him by the bright red flannel shirt he always wore, and besides, he was lame; some one told us he had had a bad fall once, on board ship.  Kate and I had always wished we could find a chance to talk with him.  He looked up at us pleasantly, and when we nodded and smiled, he said “Good day” in a gruff, hearty voice, and went on with his work, cleaning mackerel.

“Do you mind our watching you?” asked Kate.

“No, ma’am!” said the fisherman emphatically.  So there we stood.