There was a jetty from which a passenger stepped into the ferry-boat. It consisted of planks sustained on poles driven into the mud. The planks were slippery with the distilling vapour. The stage was not particularly secure, as Olver had noticed that morning. In another half hour the tide would be racing out, swirling about the piles on which the footway rested. It was precisely the swirl that had loosened one of them and made the planks incline and become infirm. When a passenger arrived and asked to be ferried across, it was Olver's wont to extend a hand and help him into the boat. But what if the step were missed and there ensued a fall into the water? In the fog, at the rate at which the tide would be sweeping out, that person who was submerged would be carried away, and the veil of vapour would make it difficult, if not impossible, to recover him. Olver sat in his boat musing and motionless, with the oar poised in his hand. The mist condensed on his glazed cap, and formed a chain of drops about the rim. His brows, his beard were beaded. His jersey became sodden. The seat in the boat ran over with water. But all these discomforts he regarded not. The fog became thicker as day declined. It lost its white opacity and became brown as coal-smoke, it deepened from that into darkness that was black-grey. In the meantime Winefred had been in Seaton. She had gone there to inquire about choughs, and knowing where to learn something about what she desired, make her way at once to the Red Lion, where she was certain to find the young boatmen congregated. She was not disappointed in her expectation, but to her vexation she saw that Jack Rattenbury was there, one whom she particularly desired to avoid. On her appearing, he started up, and would have addressed her, but she turned her head aside and would not notice him. 'I have come, lads,' said she, 'to know if any of you will procure me a pair of young choughs. I will pay a guinea for them.' 'They are not so easily got,' answered one of those addressed. 'It is a bit late in the spring, and, besides, choughs are becoming yearly more scarce.' 'I know that they are scarce, that is why I offer for them twenty-one shillings.' 'There are none to be found except in the face of the White Cliff,' said another. 'Well then, get them from the White Cliff.' 'Easier said than done,' was the retort. 'The brow overhangs.' 'Sailor lads should not shirk a climb,' said Winefred impatiently. 'That is not rigging,' said a boy; 'you want a land-lubber for that cliff.' 'Here, get Jack Rattenbury,' shouted one, 'he has cut the sea, and taken to the land.' The sally was greeted with a laugh. 'I do not care who procures the birds; so long as I have what I want, I am content,' said Winefred. 'If the choughs are to be had, I will get them for you,' said Jack quietly. 'And you shall receive a guinea.' 'I will not take the money.' 'And I refuse them as a present.'