WILDFOWLING AFLOAT 



T be a-snowin' and 

 a -bio win' from the 

 nor' - east masterful 

 hard, gen'lemen, and 

 ye musn't dream of 

 takin' the gunnin'- 

 punt outside the creek 

 this night," shouted old 

 Gil son, the skipper, 

 down the skylight as 

 Jack M. and myself sat 

 smoking and chatting 

 in the cabin of the 15 -ton yawl, Seamew, The yacht was 

 lying snugly at anchor in one of the many creeks de- 

 bouching on the southern shore of the Isle of Sheppy, 

 after a somewhat rough passage from the river Deben. 

 Neither of us were surprised to hear of the sudden down- 

 fall of snow, as great banks of dark clouds had been 

 gathering on the eastern horizon long before the sunset, 

 and the thermometer gradually falling all day. The 

 skipper did not err in stating it was " a-snowin' and 

 a-blowin' masterful hard," for so thickly did the gale- 

 driven flakes fall that it was difficult to distinguish 

 objects lying a dozen yards from our " floating cottage," 



and, although the tide in our little haven of refuge was 



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