"I can see it all now as plain as can be: the little fishing village
under the cliff; the stout granite pier running out so as to form a
harbour for the fishing-boats; and the blue sea, stretching away far as
eye could reach. Down by its edge, too, the weed-fringed rocks, piled
high in places, with the sea foaming amongst the crevices, and again
forming little rock-pools where the bright sea growths flourished; and
as the tide came in, with its fresh cooling waters, you saw the limpets
and sea flowers wakening again to life, while many a spider-crab and
shell-fish crept out of the nook or crack where it had hidden from the
warm sun. I can see it all now at any time, though I am growing grey,
and nigh a score of years have passed since; but brighter than all seem
to stand out those two mournful eyes, with the same tearful look they
gave me as I flung out of the door and saw them for the last time; for
when next I looked upon that face the eyes were fast closed, and could I
have opened them the lustre would have been gone.
"A west country fisherman's life is one which takes him a deal from
home, for sometimes we go off for perhaps three months at a time to the
north coast, or to Ireland when the herring season is on; and, like the
rest, I used to be off in my boat, sorry enough to leave home--happy
enough to return after a busy season, till one year, when I took it into
my head to think it strange that Harry Penellyn, Mary's old beau, should
spin his illness out so long and stop ashore, time after time, when the
boats went out, and him seeming to be well and strong as any of us.
There had been a heavy gale on the coast some weeks before, and, as we
always do at such times, we had run in for the harbour as soon as we saw
it coming; but, through bad seamanship, Penellyn's boat came inside the
rocks, when she should have come outside, and then, through their not
having water enough, she grounded, lifted again, caught by the stern,
and then swung round broadside to the waves, which swept her half deck,
while a regular chorus of shrieks rose from the women standing ashore.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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