“The kings o’ the earth rise up together, sir,” answered Un’ Benny very deliberately; “an’ by consikence the little fishes take hidin’.  ’Tis a poor look-out for our callin’—­a wisht poor job altogether!  Fishers and apostles always stood in together, an’ War’s the ruination o’ both.  What with the Gospel gone scat, an’ no dividends this side o’ Christmas—­”

“I asked you,” interrupted Mr Pamphlett, “what that firing means, out there?  It’s friendly, of course?  A British battleship?”

“As to that,” replied Un’ Benny, slowly ruminating, “I wouldn’ call it friendly in any man to let off a big-inch gun at anything.  That’s not the word I’d choose.  And I don’t grant ’ee that there’s no danger because we men, as you call us”—­here Un’ Benny distributed the emphasis delicately—­“happen to be takin’ it cool.  But if you ask my opinion, she’s a first-class cruiser; an’ you hit it off when you asked, ‘What’s this firin’ about?’ ‘Firin’ about,’ that’s of it, as I reckon; and aboard of her, belike, the boys that left us o’ Sunday, takin’ a little practice to get their hands in.  But there!  A guess is a guess; and if you’re anxious about it, and’ll step into my boat, sir, we’ll put out and make sure.”

Mr Pamphlett ignored this proposal.  He turned on the other men.  “It’s a fine day, anyhow,” he said; “and the wind turning nor’-westerly.  If sure she’s only a cruiser at practice, why are you fellows loafing in harbour?”

“As for that”—­Un’ Benny intercepted the question blandly—­“they can answer for their-selves, them that’s under obligation to ’ee.  But you started on me, an’ so I’ll be polite an’ lead off.  In th’ first place, with all this tow-row, the fish be all gone to bottom; there’s not one’ll take hook by day nor net by night.  An’ next, with a parcel o’ reservists pickin’ up the gunnery they’ve forgot, for a week or so the firin’ is apt to be flippant.  Yes, Mr Pamphlett, you can go back to your business an’ feel all the easier in mind every time a bangin’ great shell makes ye bob up an’ down in your chair.  ‘Tis a fine thing to stand here an’ feel we’ve a Navy protectin’ us all; but don’t send these poor fellows out to be protected too near.”  Un’ Benny’s eyes twinkled a moment.  “It does ‘em good, too, to take a rest now an’ then, an’ smoke a pipe, an’ praise the Lord that made ’em Englishmen.”

Mr Pamphlett detested Un’ Benny’s conversation.  It always struck him as significantly meaningless.  Again he addressed himself to the other men.

“What Rowett says about the fish is true enough, I dare say.  When they hear all this noise—­”

But Un’ Benny took him up, blandly as before.  “There’s a man, down to Mevegissey,” he said, “that holds ‘tis no question of hearin’, or of what you and I do call hearin’.  Accordin’ to him the fish have a sixth sense, denied to ordinary Christians—­”

“I don’t want to hear what this or that fool says at Mevegissey—­”