in Freedom 141 



They hover, like a kestrel, over the shallower 

 water, and suddenly plunge downwards with a splash 

 on the surface, all but disappearing, to rise again with 

 a small fish in their pointed crimson bills. 



Walking over the accumulation of big and small 

 round stones at the edge of the sea, which has washed 

 from between them all the soil, one may hear beneath 

 one's feet a curious frog-like croaking. 



A strong oily and aromatic odour is about. 



It is the peculiar smell of the stormy petrel, 

 which to my mind ought to have been named the 

 sea swallow sooner than the terns — or perhaps the 

 sea martin. 



Flying over the waves, much of a size with the 

 house martin, he is very similar in the tints and 

 distribution of his colouring. 



As in the martin, there is a conspicuous patch of 

 white on the back, above the tail ; and the generally 

 black plumage with pointed wings enhances the 

 likeness. 



The first time that I heard the curious chattering: 

 croak emitted by these pretty little petrels under the 

 stones, I was unaware by what it was uttered, and 

 immediately proceeded to remove what proved to be 

 the roof of the stormy petrel's nesting-place. A most 

 unfortunate accident happened. 



With me was a sister-in-law, as well as a brother 

 and the skipper of the little private steamer in which 

 we had come, and one of the boatmen. 



We were all keenly interested in unearthing the 

 petrels, the skipper with his splendid physique and his 



