130 THE SALT OF MY LIFE 



At the quarter, they came up together in a cab, 

 and we got away just as the last of the ferry-boats 

 came gleaming across from Neutral Bay. Past 

 Garden Island and the anchored warships we 

 dropped, and so to the threshold of the Ocean, 

 where, in spite of the night being calm and what 

 little wind there was blowing off the land, a gentle 

 swell at once sent three or four of the party below, 

 where they crouched in the narrow cabin and 

 made believe to sleep comfortably. Although, 

 in this upside-down country, what would have 

 been almost the longest day at home was nearly 

 mid-winter, the night was balmy and, as the 

 Pacific lived for once in a way up to its reputa- 

 tion, the rest of us slept pleasantly enough on 

 deck. As we passed under the looming brow of 

 the North Head, the course was abruptly changed 

 to the northward, and along the towering coast, 

 broken here and there, as at Manly, by an interval 

 of sandy beach, we went at half speed, since there 

 was no object in reaching Broken Bay, our desti- 

 nation, before daylight. As a matter of fact, we 

 were off the embouchure of the lovely Hawkesbury 

 while it was yet dark, and for the last hour, before 

 the tug lay to, I had been towing a new line astern 

 in order to take the turns out of it. It was a 

 stout spun line, dark green in colour, which I had 

 bought, wound on a cork, at a shop near the Town 

 Hall, and better for this ocean-fishing than 



