nnot yet be answered--"Would I
willingly have all this over again?" Lying on a sofa in a comfortable
room, I would not go out to this scene; but in a boat, if all this began
again, I certainly would not go ashore to avoid its discomforts and lose
its grandeurs.

The profound uncertainty as to what was to come next moment being one of
the most exciting features of the occasion; perhaps the whole scene would
be tamed sadly by a mere repetition; but one sentiment was dominant over
all at the time, that I had lived a long year in a night.

Soon after four o'clock, there suddenly stretched out what seemed to be a
reef of breakers for miles under the sullen rain-clouds, and, with
instant attention, the yawl was put about to avoid them.

This extraordinary optical illusion was the dawn opening on the coast,
then actually ten miles away, and in a very few minutes, as the cloud
lifted, the land seemed to rush off to its proper distance, until at last
the curtain split in two, and I found to my intense delight that in the
night we had crossed the bay!

Now came joyous sounds from our moist crew--"Hurrah for the day! Pipe
all hands to breakfast--slack out the mainsheet, here's the west wind;"
and up rose the sun, well washed by the torrents of rain.

An elaborate _friture_ of my last three eggs was soon cooked to
perfection, and I held the frying-pan over the side, while it drained
through a fork; when, alas! there came a heavy lurch of the boat, and all
the well-deserved breakfast was pitched into the sea, with a mild but
deep-meant "Oh, how provoking!" from the hapless, hungry, lonely sailor.
Shame that, preserved through such dangers, we should murmur at an omelet
the less! But this tyrant stomach exacts more, and thanks less, than all
the body besides.

Hastings was soon passed, and we skirted the cliffs towards Rye. I had
written to the harbourmaster {267} here to send out a boat if he saw my
craft (enclosing him a sketch of it), as the entrance to that harbour
seemed to be very difficult by the chart.

But the breeze was fresh and invigorating, and though sadly needing sleep
after two nights without any, the idea of going to bed while such a fine
breeze blew seemed preposterous, and Rye was soon left in the rear.

From this place a very low flat tongue of land stretches along in the
strangest way, until at its end is the lighthouse of Dungeness. Martello
towers are on the shore, but for miles outside of this, th