64 WILD LIFE ON A NORFOLK ESTUARY 



these conditions of weather is welcomed by those who would 

 punt thither, for it is by no means easy for even an old 

 Breydoner to find his way about a moment of inattention, a 

 turn of the tide, and his bearings may be lost entirely. I 

 was rowing up one night to my houseboat, which just then 

 was moored to the old ship Agnes, in the Ship drain, and 

 I had come to within two stakes of the entrance to the drain, 

 navigating the place easily enough by the town lights, when 

 all on a sudden one of the densest fogs I can remember came 

 down obliterating everything, even the bow of my boat, and 

 it was only by a series of random strokes that I found one of 

 the channel stakes, whose number I could not see. Over and 

 over again I tried to find the entrance to the drain, but was 

 continually foiled by fouling the mudflats ; so I gave it up 

 for a bad job, and fastened the punt to the next stake I 

 touched, and lay-to for the tide to ease, and the ebb to come 

 down. I snugged myself down as comfortably as possible 

 on the floor of the punt, and amused myself by thinking of 

 other strange adventures that had befallen me on Breydon. 

 I do not remember to have slept, but towards the small 

 hours of the morning I noticed the tide had changed, and 

 a long ripple of phosphorescent water marked the edge of the 

 stream pouring out of the drain into the main channel, almost 

 within an oars length of my punt. I knew at once that I had 

 been moored at the entrance of the channel all the time ! It 

 was now but the matter of a few minutes' rowing upstream 

 to the Moorhen, into which I tumbled, heartily glad to light 

 a rousing fire and make a comforting supper. 



Old Pestell once started to go up Breydon in a thick fog 

 in the depth of winter, and had only just reached the end of 

 the Knowle, when his boat touched against that of the late 

 Fielding Harmer. 



" Hallo ! Pestell ! " said Harmer. 



" Hallo ! master ! " returned Pestell. " Where are you 

 bound for?" 



" I'm trying to find DuffelPs drain [a mile away]," replied 

 Harmer. " How far am I off it ? " 



" You're within a stone's throw of home ! " said Pestell. 



Wildfowling under such circumstances as these is ex- 

 tremely dangerous. I know of an instance where a punt- 

 gunner was levelling his gun at an object which he thought 



