t LOOKING WILD 23. 



'Tis looking wild, I tell thee — black an' hard. If 

 a rainstorm comes 'twill veer in nor'west, an' blow 

 off; but I don't say 'twon't back to the south- 

 eastward, an' then look out for Lord Runkum ! 

 He'll pile some drift-wood up for me down under 

 cliff, Lord Runkum will; an' maybe bring us 

 along a bit more beach. They big bass '11 be In 

 'long after this, next long tides, after the sand-eels 

 an' brlt [shoals of fry]. I see'd some o' 'em — • 

 gert busters — days ago. Mackerel maybe '11 

 play along shore too. 'TIs an ill wind that 

 don't blow Benjie no good; like 'twill If you 

 follows It right through; an' if 't don't, I knows 

 how to put up wl' it like us have had to afore- 

 time.' 



Hitching up his antique trousers — a sign that 

 the last word has been said — Benjie shakes himself 

 like a dog just out of the water, and gloats over 

 the hazards of the weather. 'Wild!' he repeats, 

 'I tell 'ee 'tis looking wild. Blow till thee's 

 bust!' he exclaims, unknowingly echoing Shake- 

 speare, 'an' then p'raps us'll hae It moderater.' 

 There Is only one wind of which he speaks mourn- 

 fully, and that Is the down-easter, east or north- 

 east. 'Blow by day an' calm by night,' It Is then, 

 'an' thee casn' do nort by nuther. How the 



