t LORD RUNKUM 29 



oil, but not so much. The most experienced 

 longshoreman cannot always tell why the sea 

 makes so much faster at one time than another. 



There is a tale hereabout of two fishermen 

 brothers who flourished about a hundred years 

 ago. In the very early morning one of them 

 used to get out of bed and hold a lighted tallow 

 dip outside the window. If it blew out, "Tisn't 

 fit. Bill,' he would say. 'Us can't go to sea. 'Tis 

 blowing hard.' And if it did not go out, he would 

 say, "Tisn't no good. Bill. There isn't wind 'nuff 

 for to sail a feather.' And then he would shut the 

 window, crawl back to bed, and the brothers would 

 put away another hour or two. Perhaps they 

 were hard of hearing; for otherwise they had no 

 need to use a candle. Just as different winds make 

 different sounds among different sorts of trees, so 

 every wind and every kind of wave — lop, swell, 

 run, and so forth — has its own characteristic noise 

 upon the beach. It is the first thing one listens 

 for on waking up, and saves one many a shivering 

 journey from a back room to a front window. 

 All that is necessary is to know what the sea was 

 like the evening before, and the time of high and 

 low water. Easterly winds have in them more 

 malice than westerly gales. A south-easter — Lord 



