ompass in the black, whistling rain.

CHAPTER XIX.

Tide waiter--Beachy Head--Night Ghost--Man overboard--Ship
ahoy!--Overfalls--Thoughts--Thunder--A question--Day--Good-bye,
dingey!--Dungeness--A nap.

The barometer mounted steadily all Sunday, so we resolved to start next
morning at break of day. But though the night was quiet the vessels near
my berth were also getting ready, therefore at last I gave up all hopes
of sleep, and for company's sake got ready also after midnight, that we
might have all the tide possible for going round Beachy Head, which, once
passed, we could find easy ports all the way to London. So about two
o'clock, in the dark, we are rowing out again on the ebbing tide, and the
water at the pier-head looks placid now compared with the boiling and
dashing it made there when the yawl passed in before.

Dawn broke an hour afterwards with a dank and silent mist skirting up
far-away hills, and a gentle east wind faintly breathing as our tea-cup
smoked fragrant on deck. The young breeze was only playful yet, so we
anchored, waiting for it to rise in earnest or the tide to slacken, as
both of them were now contrary; and meantime we rested some hours
preparing for a long spell of unknown work; but I could not sleep in such
a lovely daybreak, not having that most valuable capacity of being able
to sleep when it is wanted for coming work, and not for labour past.

The east wind baffled the yawl and a whole fleet of vessels, all of us
trying to do the same thing, namely, to arrive at Beachy Head before two
o'clock in the day; for, if this could be managed, we should there find
the tide ebbing eastwards, and so get twelve hours of current in our
favour.

This feature--the division of the tides there--makes Beachy Head a
well-marked point in the navigation of the Channel. The stream from the
North Sea meets the other from the Atlantic here, and here also they
begin to separate. After beating, in downright sailing, one after
another of the schooners and brigs and barques in company, I saw at last
with real regret that not one of us could reach the point in time, and
yet the yawl got there only a few minutes too late; but it was dead calm,
and I even rowed her on to gain the last little mile.

One after another the vessels gave it up, and each cast anchor. Coming
to a pilot steamer, I hailed: "Shall I be able to do it?" "No, sir,"
they said; "no,--very sorry for you, sir; you've worked hard,