52 WILD-FOWL AND SEA-FOWL OF GREAT BRITAIN 



So he rushed up on the spit, and yelled his loudest, 

 as indeed he needed well to do. Fortunately the 

 shooter nearest to him heard his voice and hailed 

 the others. When they arrived, he told them that 

 he "reckoned as Splashey was dumfoundered up, 

 middlin' close handy." 



Then they caught sight of him standing like a 

 post, holding on to his long duck-gun which he had 

 pressed down into the sand, a mass of seething water 

 between him and the shore. 



"There's a smack in the crick with a skiff at her 

 painter — off you go, Baulk, hail her ! " roared Craft ; 

 "tell 'em the d — d old skate Splashey is a-drownin'." 



" Hold on to yer gun, ye old fool, or I'll half 

 kill ye whin I gits to ye ; do ye hear ? Stan' up ! 

 I'm a-comin'." Then the measured pull of oars 

 could be heard in the rowlocks — pulled at best 

 speed — and a boat shot out of the creek and made 

 for the spit. " Hold up fur a minute ; if yer slips 

 or lets go yer gun, I'll be the death on ye," again 

 roared out Craft, utterly ignoring the fact that 

 it was impossible for him to get near, or to render 

 any assistance. 



A few more strokes, and the boat shot up her 

 bows, grounding in the sand at Splashey's feet. 

 Covered well with water, to say that he slipped 

 into the boat would be wrong, for he simply threw 

 himself into it. This caused Craft to roar out — 



" Knock him down, Baulk, with yer oar, or he'll 

 scuttle the boat." 



Very coolly Baulk took hold of Splashey's coat- 



