ning between the
hills, which looked immediately on the beach. The sky was black and
heavy on the horizon towards the south-west. Round hard-edged clouds
rode on from the main body, like flying squadrons, "grim couriers" of
the storm. Here and there, through an opening in the clouds, the sky
was of a deep, vivid, and intense blue, contrasting wildly with the
rolling forms that tumbled about in turbulent confusion over the whole
hemisphere. The sea was rising in breakers over the banks, hillocks of
white foam riding on the crest of the billows, while the margin of the
waves boiled and frothed like some vast cauldron.

The old man was not in a particularly complaisant mood that day. He
was cross and snappish at trifles; irritable and out of humour with
himself. As he waded through the narrow defile, the dumb assistant
behind him whistled faintly, and perhaps inadvertantly. The fisherman
looked back with a furious glance.

"Thou staring buzzard, is't not enough to see sich a bellyful o' wind
i' brewing but thou must whistle for more to keep it company? Hang
thee for a he-witch; I never hear that accursed piping but the wind
follows, like sea-gulls to the garbage."

He had just turned a corner of the hill, when, looking round, he cried
in a tone of terror and amazement--

"How now, Dick? Why, the boat is gone! what prank next? Thou careless
unthrift, ill-luck follows i' thy wake. She has slipped anchor, and
the little _Kitty_ is gone to the Manx herring-boats. I am ruined,
thou limb of Old Nick! thou chub! thou"----

Epithets were accumulating with prodigious force, when Dick,
half-closing his eyes, pointed to something dark, like a small boat,
in the offing.

"What's yon thee'rt pointing at? A porpoise-back, I warrant. Ay, shake
thy head, fool; 'twill bring my bonny _Kitty_ back. Why, thou'rt
staring like a bit-boomp in a gutter catching frogs!"

Soon, however, the black speck became less ambiguous. George beheld a
white stern heaving up and down. He ran forward as if to accelerate
her return, crying out to his companion--

"A murrain catch thy tail, thou hast ever a longer sight than beseems
thee. But she's coming, sure enough, whatever she be."

The old man gazed in wonder and suspense. He saw a sail unfurl, and
the bark--his own little tight, trim vessel--come prancing on the
white billows toward the shore. Soon he observed, sitting therein,
perfectly at his ease, and unmindful of the near approach to, and th