340 BIRD-LIFE OF THE BORDERS 



creatures, man, or rather that amphibious variety or 

 "sub-species" of our race which gains a living by the 

 sea, is perhaps the hardest- working - , and has the keenest 

 struggle for existence. Already, at this early hour, the 

 brown sails of the fishing-fleet are disappearing in the 

 gloom to seaward. They will be back with the produce of 

 their "long lines " before noon, to get their fish to market 

 that day, and the results will appear on the tables of the 

 ichthyophagous, possibly hundreds of miles away, before 

 night. That hoarse "clank, clank," resounding across the 

 dark water, is also human ; it proceeds from the small 

 schooner which put in for shelter last night, and is now 

 hauling short her cable preparatory to getting away on 

 her voyage by daylight. The only other sign of life is the 

 weak little pipe of the ring-dotterels, running along the 

 shore close by in search of breakfast. 



Our destination is the ooze where the Zostera marina 

 and the samphire grow, and whither the geese will resort at 

 daybreak. The course at first lies across the main 

 channel, where the tide-sheer knocks up a nasty sea, 

 some icy cold sprays breaking aboard. Just as daylight 

 begins to break, my man descries duck ahead, but not 

 being myself endowed with crepuscular vision I fail to 

 make them out. Faith, however, is still the essence of 

 my creed, so we "flatten," and after "setting" for some 

 distance in the direction indicated they became visible — 

 six teal on the point of a sand-spit. Unluckily we had 

 forgotten to remove the handful of tow placed in the 

 muzzle of the big gun to prevent her "drowning" as we 

 crossed the "deeps," and I didn't quite fancy the risk 

 of firing thirty drachms of powder with so solid an 

 obstruction in the barrel. Teal, however, are the 

 simplest of wildfowl, and as they sat well together, a 



