ore than a simple and
praiseworthy desire on his part to avoid any possibility of mistake.

"To Sark," said Graeme, with equal emphasis.

"Ay, ay!" said the other; and so it came that the new-comer's initial
experience of the little island went far towards the confirmation of
the vague ideas of his childhood as to its inaccessibility.

The ancient called to a younger man, and they strolled away along the
harbour wall to get the baggage.

II

"Ee see," said the old gentleman, as soon as they had pulled out past
Castle Cornet, and had hoisted the masts and two rather dirty sprit
sails, and had run out the bowsprit and a new clean jib with a view to
putting the best possible face on matters, and were beginning to catch
occasional puffs of a soft westerly breeze and to wallow slowly
along,--"Ee see, time's o' consekens to me and my son. We got to arn
our livin'. An' Havver Gosslin's this side the island an' th' Creux's
t'other side, an' th' currents round them points is the very divvle."

"That's all right, as long as you land me in Sark."

"The very divvle," and the grizzled head wagged reminiscently. "I seen
'em go right up to Casquets and haf-way to Jarsey trying to get across
to Sark. An' when time's o' consekens an' you got to arn your livin',
you don' want to be playin' 'bout Casquets an' Jarsey 'stid of gittin'
'cross to Sark an' done wi' it."

"Not a bit of it. You're quite right. Try some of this,"--as he began
fumbling meaningly with a black stump of a pipe.

He filled up, and passed on the pouch to his son, who was lying on the
thwarts forward, and he also filled up and passed it back with a nod.

"What's this?" asked Graeme.

"Jetto. Mr. Lee--Sir Austin 'e is now--brother o' Passon Lee o' the
Port," with a backward jerk of the head, "'e rents it."

"Live there?"

"Naw--rabbits."

"And the bigger island yonder?"

"'At's Harm. 'T's a Garman man has that--Prince Bloocher, they calls
him. Keeps kangyroos there an' orstrichers an' things. Don't let
annybody ashore there now 'cept just to Shell Beach, which he can't
help."

They struck straight across to the long high-ridged island in front,
and Graeme's untutored eyes found no special beauty in it.

There was about it, however, a vague gray aloofness which chimed with
his spirit, a sober austerity as of a stricken whale,--a mother-whale
surely, for was not her young one there at her nose,--fled here to
heal her wound perchance, and desirous on