There was one inducement persuading him always to answer "Yes"--the sentence which Pamela had spoken, and which she had refused to explain. He should be at his wife's side. He had never understood that saying; it remained fixed in his memory, plaguing him. He should be at his wife's side. So Pamela Mardale had said, and for what Pamela said he had the greatest respect. Well, he could be in a few weeks at his wife's side. But would it not be at too great a cost unless he had first redeemed himself from her contempt? Thus he turned and turned, and saw no issue anywhere. The days slipped by, and one morning the fish-cutter brought to him a letter, which told him that four days ago his father had died. He could not reach home in time for the funeral, even if he started at once. And he could not start at once; he had signed on for eight weeks. But the letter left him face to face with the old problem. Should he go back or should he stay away? And if he stayed away, what should he do? He came on deck one morning, and his skipper said-- "There's a fog on land, Stretton," "How do you know that?" asked Stretton. The captain pointed to some birds hovering over the masts of the ketch. "Those are land birds," said he. "Look, there's a thrush and there's a blackbird. You won't find them so far from land without a reason. There has been a fog, and very likely a storm. They have lost their bearings in the fog." The birds hovered about the ships of the fleet, calling plaintively--here, at all events, were men recognisably belonging to the land they vainly sought. Stretton, watching them, felt very much like one of those birds. He, too, had lost his way in a fog, and though he made no outcry, his need of guidance was no less great than theirs. Then came a morning at last when the trawl was hauled in for the last time, and the boat's head pointed towards Yarmouth. "When shall we reach harbour?" Stretton asked anxiously. "If this breeze holds, in twenty-four hours," replied the skipper. Twenty-four hours! Just a day and a night, and Stretton would step from the deck on to Gorleston Quay; and he was no nearer to the solution of his problem than when he had stepped from the quay on to the deck eight weeks ago. Those eight weeks were to have resolved all his perplexities, and lo! the eight weeks had passed.