254 BAYS STOLEN FOR SPORT 



We were on the little quay in sight of boats that 

 bobbed at anchor and others stranded on the beach. 

 We looked at them and then at each other and I 

 was forced to admit we should need something a 

 trifle larger. Pat said coaxingly : " It's back to me 

 cabin ye'll be going, sorr." One last longing look 

 at the boats brought my eyes to a point of land that 

 jutted out and partly hid the offing, and there I saw 

 a sail that soon brought a craft to view which might 

 have a captain whom I could prevail upon to take 

 us off. We found that she was loaded with porter 

 and captained by Mr Darby Green. He was a 

 sandy-whiskered, red-faced, stuggy, unprepossess- 

 ing man that snapped at me when I asked him if 

 he could take us across : "I'm going to discharge 

 this cargo before I leave this quay and that won't 

 be to-night." With that he threw another rope 

 to the man on shore. 



I would not see his ugly face nor hear his snarls, 

 but continued to speak to him as if assured that he 

 would ultimately give way, and I admired the little 

 vessel ; she seemed designed for rough weather, 

 and this prompted me to say: "She is trim and 

 snug, captain, and must be worth looking at when 

 she has a sea she likes." 



The man faced round, lifted his shaggy eye- 

 brows and looked at me with large, blue-grey eyes 

 that had a wealth of depth which, when looked 

 into, transformed him, and, as I looked, I saw my 

 point was gained and that he would take us to the 

 mainland, loaded as he was. 



I had asked before starting what I should pay 

 him but only got for answer : " There is a sea 

 running outside and it may be we shall not go far, 



