28 THE LAND'S END 



tered bone to break through the skin ; the blood 

 began to flow and redden the plumage on one side. 

 This was again and again washed off in the succeed- 

 ing struggles to rise, but every time a pause came 

 the feathers were reddened afresh. At length the 

 poor thing became convinced that it could no longer 

 fly, that it could only swim, and at once ceasing to 

 struggle it swam away from the boats and out to- 

 wards the open bay. Hardly had it gone a dozen 

 yards from the boat-side where it had fallen before 

 some of the gulls flying near observed it for the first 

 time, and dropping to within three or four yards of 

 the surface hovered over it. Then a strange thing 

 happened. Instantly, as if a shot had been fired to 

 silence them, the uproar in the harbour ceased ; the 

 hundreds of gulls fighting on the water rose up 

 simultaneously to join the cloud of birds above, and 

 the whole concourse moved silently away in one 

 direction, forming a dense crowd above the wounded 

 bird. In this formation, suspended at a height of 

 about thirty yards over and moving with him, they 

 travelled slowly out into the middle of the bay. 



The silence and stillness in the harbour seemed 

 strange after that tempest of noise and motion, for 

 not a bird had remained behind, nor did one return 

 for at least half an hour ; then in small companies 

 they began to straggle back to resume the interrupted 

 feast. 



