. He nursed her himself for
many months. He does most of the housework now. He may remark on his
wife, if he knows you very well, but about the childlessness he never
talks.

At eight in the morning we made sail with the wind just north of east.
The little _Moondaisy_ was full of sacks, old boots and gear. Past
Refuge Cove we sailed, past Dog Tooth Ledge, and across the out-ground
of Landlock Bay, which holds the last long stretch of pebble beach for
some miles down. Uncle Jake pointed to the western end of it. "If ever
yu'm catched down here by a sou'wester, yu can al'ays run ashore, just
there--calm as a mill-pond no matter how 'tis blowing. Yu can beach
there when yu can't beach to Seacombe for the roughness o' the sea.
Aye, I've a-done it! But yu can't get out o' Landlock Bay, though I
mind when you could climb up the cliff jest to the east'ard o' thic
roozing [landslip]. Howsbe-ever, 'tis a heavy gale from the south-east
on a long spring tide as'll drive 'ee out o' thic cave there where the
beach urns up. Now yu knows that: 'tisn't all o'em does."

Similar bits of lore or reminiscence did he give me about every few
yards of the coastline. Most merrily had the easterly wind and a
following sea brought us down. Now we drew near the rocks, where at
high tide the land drops sheer to the water. In the dry sunshine, such
a sparkle was on the waves, such a shimmer on the high red cliffs, that
it was hard to follow Uncle Jake when he said, as if he revered the
place, "_'Tis_ an ironbound show! _'Tis_ a shop! Poor devils, what gets
throwed up here! But I know where ther's some fine copper bolts waiting
for me. I'll hae 'em! I've had some on 'em, an' I'll hae the rest when
they rots out o' the timbers. Year '63 that wreck was--lovely vessel,
loaded wi' corn. I mind it well. _'Twas_ a night!"

[Sidenote: _AN IRONBOUND SHOW_]

We ran the _Moondaisy_ ashore at Brandey-Keg Cove--a little beach
running up into a deep gloomy cave where the smugglers used to store
their cargoes and haul them up over the cliff. "Us can walk down to
Lobster Ledge an' west from there to Tatie Rock. I knows where they
master gobbets be, if nobody an't had 'em--an' nobody an't. They don'
like this iron-bound shop. They leaves it to Jake. But they wuden't, if
they know'd what was here."

I ate some of my breakfast while Uncle Jake was changing his boots and
shifting his outer clothing. He would accept only one of my small
cheese sandwiches. "I got