1 84 WITHIN AN HOUR OF LONDON TOWN. 



When the night came, and the moon silvered 

 the waters and lit up our sandhills, the man so 

 much talked of was close to his port, watched 

 only by a woman as brave as himself, one who 

 held many a gruesome secret in her keeping. 

 True to her past, she allowed no one to hear the 

 last murmurs from the lips of her husband. Yet 

 her head was bowed and her heart breaking. As 

 the tide turned on the ebb in the grey of the morn- 

 ing he passed from her. The great gull brings back 

 the scene of that morning, the sun shining in on a 

 dead, upturned face, and a lonely, weeping woman ; 

 two or three fishermen's wives standing on the 

 threshold of the open door, with children clinging 

 to their skirts and looking fearfully within. 



Our men used to bring home in the boats young 

 cobs that had been taken from their breeding 

 stations. Great, brown, speckled creatures they 

 were, of most grave demeanour. One wing was 

 always carefully clipped. That grave bearing was 

 not at all confirmed by their tricks and manners, 

 as I have found to my cost. If you attempted to 

 stroke one he would bite most ferociously, lacerating 

 your fingers, and then setting up a querulous cry 



