and collar 'en!"

While this was going on, Sir, Bligh had found his boat--which he'd
left by the shore--and was pulling up the river to work off his rage.
Ne'er a thought had he, as he flounced through the churchyard, of the
train of powder he dribbled behind him: but all the way he blew off
steam, cursing Parson Polwhele and the whole cloth from Land's End to
Johnny Groats, and glowering at the very gates by the road as though
he wanted to kick 'em to relieve his feelings. But when he reached
his boat and began rowing, by little and little the exercise tamed
him. With his flags and whitewash he'd marked out most of the lines
he wanted for soundings: but there were two creeks he hadn't yet
found time to explore--Porthnavas, on the opposite side, and the very
creek by which we're sitting. So, as he came abreast of this one, he
determined to have a look at it; and after rowing a hundred yards or
so, lay on his oars, lit his pipe, and let his boat drift up with the
tide.

The creek was just the same lonesome place that it is to-day, the
only difference being that the pallace at the entrance had a roof on
it then, and was rented by Sam Trewhella--the same that followed old
Hockaday's coffin, as I've told you. But above the pallace the woods
grew close to the water's edge, and lined both shores with never a
clearing till you reached the end, where the cottage stands now and
the stream comes down beside it: in those days there wasn't any
cottage, only a piece of swampy ground. I don't know that Bligh saw
much in the scenery, but it may have helped to soothe his mind: for
by and by he settled himself on the bottom-boards, lit another pipe,
pulled his hat over his nose, and lay there blinking at the sky,
while the boat drifted up, hitching sometimes in a bough and
sometimes floating broadside-on to the current, until she reached
this bit of marsh and took the mud very gently.

After a while, finding she didn't move, Bligh lifted his head for a
look about him and found that he'd come to the end of the creek.
He put out a hand and felt the water, that was almost luke-warm with
running over the mud. The trees shut him in; not a living soul was
in sight; and by the quietness he might have been a hundred miles
from anywhere. So what does my gentleman do but strip himself for a
comfortable bathe.

He folded his clothes very neatly in the stern-sheets, waded out
across the shallows as naked as a babe, and took to the wat