swung on the cable of the big ship, I made myself a cup of coffee;
for I always carried a small lamp stove with me, so that I could cook
the fish I caught fresh from the sea, or make myself a cup of tea or
coffee to wash my meal down with.

I have since found, that within the memory of persons still alive,
Guernsey was nearly cut off from Vale Parish by an arm of the sea, which
flowed over the salt marshes at high tide, so that all communication was
cut off between the two parts of the island except by one little bridge
and the ferry boat. The bridge was about 380 yards west of St. Sampson's
Church; but at the present day pleasant meadows, houses, and roads take
the place of the broad stream of salt water and marshes, which formerly
made Guernsey and Vale separate islands twice a day, at the time of high
tide.

Just before five o'clock when heads began to peep over bulwarks, and men
to appear on the quay, passing to their work, I thought it time to be
off, as my strange craft would be sure to attract attention, which I did
not court, so I packed up and made snug for sailing. I was only just in
time, for a bearded face looked over the bulwarks of the brigantine, and
hailed me with a "Good morning, mate!" but I only pointed to my mouth
and ears as I unmoored. When I looked up again as I pushed off there
were half a dozen merry faces peering over the side at me, and I could
see they were surprised at the "Yellow Boy" and her dumb skipper. As I
sculled out of the harbour I could hear their remarks and laughter,
despite my deaf-mutism, and would gladly have had a chat with them if it
had not been for my "rules," for these were the first human voices I had
heard close by me for nearly four months.

Away I scudded, taking my way across the Little Russel, past the stone
fort, with its one pop-gun on top, which is supposed to dominate the
channel, standing as it does on a rocky islet midway between Guernsey
and Herm. If a modern warship meant business, the bellicose gunners of
this little inkpot-looking fort would have what the French call a
_mauvais quart d'heure_. Arrived home about seven I had all the day
before me. One of our poets says,

"The only way to lengthen our days,
Is to take a piece off of the night, my boys!"

This I used frequently to do, but always took care to take _my_ piece
off the night, so as to _prefix_ the day instead of making it a kind of
baccanalian _appendix_. I have sometimes had my d