254 MELTON AND HOMESPUN 



" Widgeon " Joe at the tiller the cockle-shell of a craft 

 disappears into the darkness, her bluff-bows heading 

 towards the Point salt marshes, which lie well across the 

 little estuary. Far out, on the fringe of a high and 

 treacherous sand-bank, known locally as " The Ridge," 

 stands a pile-lighthouse, the lantern of which, at frequent 

 intervals, casts a narrow but brilliant gleam of light 

 athwart the dark tide-way and neighbouring mud-flats, 

 while the riding-lights of a fleet of weather-bound coasting 

 vessels, anchored in the fairway, dance and flicker like 

 so many will-o'-the-wisps. 



The incoming tide having only just commenced to flow, 

 the ooze-flats are still uncovered, and the passage to the 

 Point salt-marshes must, therefore, be made by way of a 

 tidal-creek, which worms its sinuous course through a 

 vast expanse of mud and glass wort clothed salts, be- 

 tween dyke-protected marshes and rich corn-growing 

 lands, threading in and out amongst a cluster of tiny 

 islets and then opening out into a small estuary, well 

 sheltered from the fierce nor'-easters by a high ridge of 

 sand which forms a natural breakwater during all but 

 spring tides. 



It is still quite dark as with sheet now free, now taut, 

 the dinghy ploughs her way down the turbid creek, and 

 though the sinuosities of the same are both frequent and 

 abrupt, " Widgeon " Joe steers the little craft with that 

 skill and precision which may only be acquired by life- 

 long experience in the navigation of the water-way and 

 fore and aft sailing. An inexperienced hand would have 

 sent the boat ashore a dozen times during the passage 

 of the creek, but " Widgeon " Joe touched ground not 

 once. 



