AMONGST THE SEA-BIRDS. 229 



was easy to understand the witchery which sea life has for an 

 artistic eye, and the incomparable effects of colour not un- 

 frequently to be observed on the waves. Amid these solemn 

 greys and softened purples and blues of evening the Spurn 

 lights were lit, and immediately the view on all sides was con- 

 fused by the number of lights run up into riggings, or extend- 

 ing in long-drawn lines when the lamps along the shore were 

 lighted. The many noises of a busy dockyard gradually com- 

 posed themselves, and the wash of the waves round our bows 

 made itself more distinctly heard. Our cruise had almost 

 ended. The grog-locker was opened for the last time, and then 

 we turned in. During the dim grey of morning we were 

 faintly conscious that Captain Try and his men were getting us 

 into the yacht's snug berth in the dock. But at seven, when 

 the steam began to blow off, sleep was effectually murdered, 

 and we awoke to dress to its roaring accompaniment. And 

 then came the last breakfast in the comfortable little saloon, 

 not unmixed with a tinge of sadness at the breaking up of a 

 merry party, and the return to the anxieties and duties of life, 

 the last shaking of hands and cheery farewell to Captain Try 

 and his crew. The dead birds were duly carried on shore, and 

 save that the most cherished memories need no sensible object 

 to evoke them, will long in the mute isolation of their glass 

 cases, remind their owners of the delightful trip of the Firefly 

 among the thousands of their screaming, diving, swimming 

 kinsfolk off the wave-eaten cliffs of Flamborough. 



All our care not to commence shooting till the earliest legal 

 date had been futile. It seems that the Flamborough authorities 

 had passed a bye-law to postpone all shooting of sea-birds till 

 1 5th August, so that our doings on board the Firefly ', though 

 committed in sheer ignorance, were doubtless viewed with much 

 reprobation from the cliffs. 



