OLD BOATS 221 



covered sand drift just abaft the kitchen door, whither 

 he betakes himself with his spy glass on clear days to see 

 whether it is his old friend Cap'n Perry down there on 

 number two oyster bar, or how heavy the traffic is to- 

 day far out beyond the yellow beach line, where Block 

 Island rises like a blue mirage. 



Cap'n Bradley boasts a garden, too. It is just across 

 the lane from his front door. There are three varieties 

 of flowers in it nasturtiums, portulacas, and bright red 

 geraniums. The portulacas grow around the border, 

 then come the nasturtiums, and finally the taller gerani- 

 ums in the centre. The Cap'n has never seen nor heard of 

 those ridiculous wooden birds on green shafts which it 

 is now the fashion to stick up in flower beds, but he has 

 something quite appropriate, and, all things considered, 

 quite as "artistic." In the bow of his garden, astride a 

 spar, is a blue-legged sailor man ten inches tall, keeping 

 perpetual lookout up the lane. For this flower bed is 

 planted in an old dory filled with earth. She had out- 

 lived her usefulness down there in the Salt Pond, or 

 even, it may be, out on the blue sea itself, but no vandal 

 hands were laid upon her to stave her up for kindling 

 wood. Instead, the Captain himself painted her a 

 bright yellow, set her down in front of his dwelling, and 

 filled her full of flowers. She is disintegrating slowly; 

 already, after a rain, the muddy water trickles through 

 her sides and stains the yellow paint. But what a 

 pretty and peaceful process ! She might not strike you 



