ver the water and sing with the men,
pretending to myself that I too was a sailor.

For I longed always to sail away with those brave ships when they turned
their backs on Puddleby Church and went creeping down the river again,
across the wide lonely marshes to the sea. I longed to go with them out
into the world to seek my fortune in foreign lands--Africa, India, China
and Peru! When they got round the bend in the river and the water was
hidden from view, you could still see their huge brown sails towering
over the roofs of the town, moving onward slowly--like some gentle
giants that walked among the houses without noise. What strange things
would they have seen, I wondered, when next they came back to anchor
at Kingsbridge! And, dreaming of the lands I had never seen, I'd sit on
there, watching till they were out of sight.

Three great friends I had in Puddleby in those days. One was Joe, the
mussel-man, who lived in a tiny hut by the edge of the water under the
bridge. This old man was simply marvelous at making things. I never
saw a man so clever with his hands. He used to mend my toy ships for me
which I sailed upon the river; he built windmills out of packing-cases
and barrel-staves; and he could make the most wonderful kites from old
umbrellas.

Joe would sometimes take me in his mussel-boat, and when the tide was
running out we would paddle down the river as far as the edge of the sea
to get mussels and lobsters to sell. And out there on the cold lonely
marshes we would see wild geese flying, and curlews and redshanks and
many other kinds of seabirds that live among the samfire and the
long grass of the great salt fen. And as we crept up the river in
the evening, when the tide had turned, we would see the lights on
Kingsbridge twinkle in the dusk, reminding us of tea-time and warm
fires.

Another friend I had was Matthew Mugg, the cat's-meat-man. He was a
funny old person with a bad squint. He looked rather awful but he was
really quite nice to talk to. He knew everybody in Puddleby; and he knew
all the dogs and all the cats. In those times being a cat's-meat-man was
a regular business. And you could see one nearly any day going through
the streets with a wooden tray full of pieces of meat stuck on skewers
crying, "Meat! M-E-A-T!" People paid him to give this meat to their cats
and dogs instead of feeding them on dog-biscuits or the scraps from the
table.

I enjoyed going round with old Matthew and seeing