8 RAMBLES AFTER SPORT. 



a mallard witli tlie single and a green cartridge — almost 

 the very last bird that flew over ; we got aboard again, 

 and went " sailing down.^^ I tbink tbis sport beats 

 anything I know of for excitement ; as much depends on 

 the helmsman as on the gunner — in fact, a great deal 

 more, and I must say I believe I had the best lad at this 

 game in all Poole. We beat the harbour for some time, 

 picking up a brace of teal and some more coots, and 

 then stood out to sea with a lovely six-knot breeze on 

 our beam. 



^^ I think we'll get a shot soon, sir ; if we don't, 'twill 

 be a cruel shame." Indeed, it was a day out of a 

 hundred for sailing down" — the birds tame, and just 

 enough ripple on the water to hide all but their heads. 



" ril lay a crown the old man had a shot last night," 

 continues Bill; "I heard him fire twice." (A shot in 

 Poole means the number of birds killed, and not the act 

 of firing.) 



After sailing about some time. Bill, who had the 

 eye of a hawk for birds, spied a big company of wigeon 

 dead to windward about a mile ofi". I confess I looked 

 for five minutes after, and could see nothing. 



" Now, sir, I think we are going to have one or two of 

 them ; load all the guns, and you go for'ard with Bill. 

 Keep close under the bows, and don't move till I tell 

 you." 



We tacked about, and stood straight down for the 

 flock, keeping them rather on our weather bow ; in my 

 right hand I had the "infant," and all ready by my side 

 the 10 double, with a couple of cartridges, while Master 

 Bill, who was crouched down at my side, and was as 

 excited as I was, had appropriated the long single, loaded 

 with a double charge of powder and a green cartridge 



