» NEARLY ASHORE 51 



'How on earth can I tell 'ee If thee's keep thy 

 cap down over thy ears? East! Bit north of 

 east now. . . .' 



What with the flickering of the lamp, the ball 

 of dirt in the compass, uncertainty, and being 

 obliged to repeat everything, I could have taken 

 up the tiller and beaten it about the Ol' Man's 

 head. At one time or another we steered for 

 every quarter of the compass. Near the cliffs, 

 where deep combes open to the sea, the wind 

 purdles around, as we say, so that it is impossible 

 to steer a boat simply by keeping her up to it. 

 We sighted a light which must have been in Beer 

 village, though we couldn't be certain then that it 

 was not a drifter's riding lamp further out to sea. 

 We closed up that light, though again we couldn't 

 be certain that it was not the fog hiding it. We 

 heard surf on a shore. We heard surf again — on 

 the wrong side of the boat! We heard sea-gulls 

 fly out, screaming, from a cliff. Then we knew 

 that we were under Beer Head — close under it — 

 close enough to bring the sea-gulls out. 



'Tiller down !' I shouted. 'Put her about ! 

 Tiller down, quick.' 



'What?' 



'Put the tiller down ! Steer out ! Casn' thee 



