MORE OF THE WILD DUCK. FAMILY 237 



said, "the hard weather had killed the tide for a 

 time, the sky was blue as a razor above in the day- 

 time, an' dark as a jersey at night. All the time 

 things kept like that, tides would be easy." And 

 as usual they were quite right in their weather 

 forecast. 



Those who know the sands as only coast folks can 

 know them, are able to travel with safety over them, 

 even if to casual observers they appear frozen when 

 the tide is out. Black Ducks are on the water, in a 

 line with the lightship. So great are their numbers, 

 that when at times they rise, they look from the 

 beach like a small patch of dark cloud. To reach 

 the water-line, that is to say, the utmost limit that 

 the tide ever ebbs down to, would not be accom- 

 plished by making a straight line in its direction, 

 although, to all outward appearance, the sands look 

 as if you could gallop a horse over them. Having 

 had varied experiences here of a practical, but by no 

 means pleasant nature, I take a long "rake" out of 

 my right course, and come in close to the tide on 

 winkle hards, not sand. One great stretch of sand, 

 level as a billiard-table — at least, so it looks from 

 the distance — I do not even glance at to-day. If 

 I did, I should see bits of timber — not very big, for 

 they will soon be fit to burn as fire^drift, without 

 either sawing or splitting — sticking up and bulging 

 out of that bit of all-boiling quicksand. Those who 

 roamed the beach in all weathers, searching for 

 flotsam and jetsam even in dead winter because 

 they had nothing better to do, said that " no livin' 



