36 WANDERINGS AND MEMORIES 



six seasons in which I worked a punt and the big 

 gun on Tay, Eden, Moray, Dornoch, Cromarty and 

 Little Ferry firths I was nearly drowned four 

 times, and once had a very narrow escape from 

 losing my eyesight, if not worse, owing to the 

 bursting of the punt gun. 



The worst experience I had— in which, in fact, 

 my life was only saved by a miracle— was on 

 February 10th, 1888, in the Eden Estuary. My 

 puntsman. Jack Pinkney, and I paddled out to a 

 small bunch of Scaup. It was perfectly calm as 

 we lay down to run to the birds, but as we advanced 

 a sudden squall astern ought to have been a warn- 

 ing to us. We approached the birds, which, being 

 few in number here, were not worth a shot with the 

 big gun. Accordingly I took the 8-bore and knocked 

 down three, two dead and one a winger. We should 

 then have picked up the two dead birds and retreated, 

 but, being anxious to secure the cripple, I foolishly 

 went on, though a nasty sea was running astern 

 and increasing every minute. Jack suddenly 

 uttered an exclamation as several waves " pooped " 

 the small punt astern, causing us to bale for our 

 lives. But it was too late, for, after another wash 

 or two, the punt stopped and literally sank beneath 

 us. " We'll have to swim," said Jack, who was a 

 good swimmer, and threw himself into the sea. I 

 struggled a few yards in my heavy clothes and 

 boots, and then caught sight of one of the old posts 

 that used to mark the side of the channel, placed 

 there by musselmen. Almost exhausted, I reached 

 it, and, getting my legs wrapped round its uneven 

 surface, obtained a good grip, with my head above 

 water. Meanwhile Jack had reached the mud and 



