LONGSHORE MEMORIES 203 
a nice lot of flappers with a few old ducks, all busily 
feeding. 
A report rings out which shakes the reeds, and 
most of the fowl lie dead on the water. Swiftly the 
punt is paddled to get the cripples, and all are 
gathered save one which flutters to a spot which 
appears from the punt to offer firm footing. In his 
eagerness the fowler forgets to try the bottom with 
his pole before he springs towards his bird. With 
horror, his companion sees him go down, not in water 
but in quake bog, where he is smothered, buried out 
of sight in a few instants. As in a dream, the friend 
got home to tell the story. The body was recovered, 
but to this day the spot is shunned as though accursed. 
Ay, more than these sad memories haunt one. 
How well I remember that bright summer morning 
when a party of our young fellows left the village for 
a swim. The tide was up ; the bright water glittered 
in the sunlight, and the larks sang loudly all over the 
flats the air seemed full of them. Like so many 
water spaniels, the boys took the water, and one, 
bolder than the rest, made for mid-channel, breasting 
it bravely. Sharp and loud over the water comes a 
cry for help ; cramp has seized the brave swimmer. 
At their utmost speed his companions make for him. 
' Tear through it, boys, or he's done for ! ' 
