It was a lovely morning in the latter end of May, and James had been some time at work in his master's fields, when he was suddenly startled with a tremendous noise, louder than any thunder he had ever heard. He looked round about, and up at the heavens; all was blue and serene there, and he could see no traces of a thunder-cloud: still the roar continued in horrid bursts that seemed to shake the shores and the very ground he stood on, and it rang and rebounded through the hollow coast with the most frightful din.[14] At last he cast his eyes towards the East, and there he saw, in the bar, white clouds of smoke, mixed with flashes of flame. "The sea-fight has surely begun," he said aloud, "so near in shore! Our cottage will certainly be knocked down with the balls." This thought induced him to throw down his hoe, and away he ran towards his home, thinking of nothing but his poor grandmother. [Footnote 14: In an old song, published a few days after Solebay fight, there are the following lines:-- "Well might you hear their guns, I guess, From Sizewell Gap to Easton Ness; They fill'd up all the hollow coast, From Walberswick to Dunwich."] He got safely down the cliffs, though the cannon-balls were coming on shore very near him, and in some places they actually shattered large pieces of earth and stones from the cliffs. James found poor old Amy kneeling by the bed in the inner room, hiding her face and half dead with terror. He wanted to take her farther up the country, out of the reach of danger; but Amy dared not venture out of the house, and James could not persuade her that the cottage would be no defence in case a cannon-ball should strike it. He determined at first to take her in his arms and carry her away to a place of safety: "But, who knows," thought he, "but I may drag her into the very danger she dreads so much?" So he determined to stay with her at every risk, and they spent the day half-deafened with the roar of the cannon, expecting every moment that their little home would be shattered about them. Towards evening, the firing grew weaker and weaker, and the people who were beholding the fight from the cliffs, shouted that the Duke of York had gained the victory. But before the action was quite over, a boat was seen making to the shore; it seemed to bear in the direction of Amy's cottage, and actually ran on shore within a few yards of it. The sailors leaped out, and, lifting an officer in their arms, bore him towards the cottage; whilst a young sailor walked slowly after, leaning on an old seaman's arm. James flung open the cottage door, and told them to place the officer on the bed. They accordingly laid him down. He moaned faintly with pain. At the sound of his voice, the young sailor approached the bed with an unsteady step. Amy gazed wistfully on the young man, and then on James;--they were exactly alike. "It is my own boy Michael!" she cried at last.