Ah! that is true, but there is a vast difference between laughing and
smiling under water. But is it not singular that you should doubt the
only incident in the story which I personally verify? I happened to be
in lodgings at the seaside while writing that story, and, after penning
the passage you refer to, I went down to the shore, pulled off my
clothes, dived to the bottom, turned on my back, and, looking up, I
smiled and winked.'

The lady laughed, but I have never been quite sure, from the tone of
that laugh, whether it was a laugh of conviction or of unbelief. It is
not improbable that my fair friend's mental constitution may have been
somewhat similar to that of the old woman who declined to believe her
sailor-grandson when he told her he had seen flying-fish, but at once
recognised his veracity when he said he had seen the remains of
Pharaoh's chariot wheels on the shores of the Red Sea.

Recognising, then, the difficulties of my position, I formed the
resolution to visit--when possible--the scenes in which my stories were
laid; converse with the people who, under modification, were to form
the _dramatis personae_ of the tales, and, generally, to obtain
information in each case, as far as lay in my power, from the
fountain-head.

[Illustration: THE STUDY]

Thus, when about to begin 'The Lifeboat,' I went to Ramsgate, and, for
some time, was hand and glove with Jarman, the heroic coxswain of the
Ramsgate boat, a lion-like as well as a lion-hearted man, who rescued
hundreds of lives from the fatal Goodwin Sands during his career. In
like manner, when getting up information for 'The Lighthouse,' I
obtained permission from the Commissioners of Northern Lights to visit
the Bell Rock Lighthouse, where I hobnobbed with the three keepers of
that celebrated pillar-in-the-sea for three weeks, and read Stevenson's
graphic account of the building of the structure in the library, or
visitors' room, just under the lantern. I was absolutely a prisoner
there during those three weeks, for no boats ever came near us, and it
need scarcely be said that ships kept well out of our way. By good
fortune there came on a pretty stiff gale at the time, and Stevenson's
thrilling narrative was read to the tune of whistling winds and roaring
seas, many of which latter sent the spray right up to the lantern and
caused the building, more than once, to quiver to its foundation.

In order to do justice to 'Fighting the Flames' I careered thr