WILD-FOWL SHOOTING. 251 
Sudden squalls of wind and rain commenced soon after 
dark, and continued, with gradually increasing violence, till 
it blew a full gale of wind; then the thermometer fell con- 
siderably below freezing- point, and the breeze suddenly 
chopped round from south-west to north-west. 
All was commotion now in the little settlement; for ev- 
ery available hand was summoned to beach the smaller 
crafts in the roadstead, or make the larger ones secure 
with additional moorings and anchors. Of course, I turned 
out with the others to assist in saving property, and a wild- 
er scene could scarcely be imagined. On the shores broke 
the white rollers, hissing out with compressed breath their 
wrath at being deprived of their expected pleasure of de- 
struction; the wild boatmen pulled, hauled, and swore at 
every obstacle that increased their labor; while the pitch- 
pine torch blazed up, or partially died out, as the gale in- 
creased or diminished in violence. After a couple of hours’ 
work the various crafts were deemed safe, and the crowd 
retired to their respective domiciles, leaving me to enjoy 
the grandeur of the scene alone. 
The bustle, confusion, and noise that had previously sur- 
rounded me had at the time absorbed all my attention; 
now, however, all was still, save the raging of the elements; 
and above its great voice I could hear one incessant sound, 
niost dear to the sportsman’s ear, the hum of innumerable 
wild fowl calling to each other. I retired with a light step 
and happy anticipations, for I looked forward to the mor- 
row as certain to afford me abundant employment for my 
gun. 
Next morning I was not disappointed, for every bay and 
inlet was covered with game, even the open water in front 
of the village, within gunshot of the shore; and intermin- 
gled among the fleet of oyster-boats were numerous flocks 
of wild fowl to be seen. Leaving the birds near home for 
