52 THE CALL OF THE SEA 



Night in a Cornish Port -<^ -^^ 



(From Lying Prophets) 



T T NDER moonlight, the returning luggers crept 

 homewards, like inky silhouettes on a back- 

 ground of dull silver. Every moment added to 

 the forest of masts anchored at the moorings out- 

 side the harbour ; every minute another riding- 

 light glimmered and another rowing-boat shot 

 between the granite piers, to slide silently within 

 the darkness under shore, as it left moonlit rings 

 widening out behind at each dip of the oars. Joan 

 sat down under the lighthouse and waited in the 

 stillness for her father's boat. Yellow flashes, 

 like fireflies, twinkled along through Newlyn, and 

 above them the moon brought out square patches 

 of silver-bright roof, seen through a blue night. 

 Now and then a bell rang in the harbour, and 

 lights leapt here and there mingling red snakes 

 and streamers of fire with the white moonbeams 

 where they lay on still water. Then Joan knew 

 the fish were being sold by auction, and she grew 

 anxious for her father's return, fearing that prices 

 might have fallen before he arrived. Great periods 

 of silence lay between the ringings of the bell, and 

 at such times faint laughter and voices floated out 

 from shore, blocks chipped and rattled as sails 

 came down, a concertina squeaked fitfully where 

 it was played on a Norwegian ice-boat at the 



