November that I was able to get
away. The weather had turned to much rain, I remember, with two or three
tempestuous nights, and the woods were almost bare of leaves, and the
Thames looked brown and violent.

In the fly from Newport to Bruntsea I heard great rollers thundering
heavily upon the steep bar of shingle, and such a lake of water shone in
the old bed of the river that I quite believed at first that the Major
had carried out his grand idea, and brought the river back again. But
the flyman shook his head, and looked very serious, and told me that
he feared bad times were coming. What I saw was the work of the Lord in
heaven, and no man could prevail against it. He had always said, though
no concern of his--for he belonged to Newport--that even a British
officer could not fly in the face of the Almighty. He himself had a
brother on the works, regular employed, and drawing good money, and
proud enough about it; and the times he had told him across a pint of
ale--howsomever, our place was to hope for the best; but the top of the
springs was not come yet, and a pilot out of Newport told him the water
was making uncommon strong; but he did hope the wind had nigh blowed
itself out; if not, they would have to look blessed sharp tomorrow. He
had heard say that in time of Queen Elizabeth sixscore of houses was
washed clean away, and the river itself knocked right into the sea; and
a thing as had been once might just come to pass again, though folk was
all so clever now they thought they wor above it. But, for all that,
their grandfathers' goggles might fit them. But here we was in Bruntsea
town, and, bless his old eyes--yes! If I pleased to look along his whip,
I might see ancient pilot come, he did believe, to warn of them!

Following his guidance, I descried a stout old man, in a sailor's
dress, weather-proof hat, and long boots, standing on a low seawall, and
holding vehement converse with some Bruntsea boatmen and fishermen who
were sprawling on the stones as usual.

"Driver, you know him. Take the lower road," I said, "and ask what his
opinion is."

"No need to ask him," the flyman answered; "old Banks would never
be here, miss, if he was of two opinions. He hath come to fetch his
daughter out of harm, I doubt, the wife of that there Bishop Jim, they
call him--the chap with two nails to his thumb, you know. Would you like
to hear how they all take it, miss?"

With these words he turned to the right, and drove i