one of the
achievements of Clubin. The expert swimmer who knows this channel can
find two resting-places, the Round Rock, and further on, a little out of
the course, to the left, the Red Rock.
V
THE BIRDS'-NESTERS
It was near the period of that Saturday which was passed by Sieur Clubin
at Torteval that a curious incident occurred, which was little heard of
at the time, and which did not generally transpire till a long time
afterwards. For many things, as we have already observed, remain
undivulged, simply by reason of the terror which they have caused in
those who have witnessed them.
In the night-time between Saturday and Sunday--we are exact in the
matter of the date, and we believe it to be correct--three boys climbed
up the hill at Pleinmont. The boys returned to the village: they came
from the seashore. They were what are called, in the corrupt French of
that part, "deniquoiseaux," or birds'-nesters. Wherever there are cliffs
and cleft-rocks overhanging the sea, the young birds'-nesters abound.
The reader will remember that Gilliatt interfered in this matter for the
sake of the birds as well as for the sake of the children.
The "deniquoiseaux" are a sort of sea-urchins, and are not a very timid
species.
The night was very dark. Dense masses of cloud obscured the zenith.
Three o'clock had sounded in the steeple of Torteval which is round and
pointed like a magician's hat.
Why did the boys return so late? Nothing more simple. They had been
searching for sea-gulls' nests in the Tas de Pois d'Aval. The season
having been very mild, the pairing of the birds had begun very early.
The children watching the fluttering of the male and female about their
nests, and excited by the pursuit, had forgotten the time. The waters
had crept up around them; they had no time to regain the little bay in
which they had moored their boat, and they were compelled to wait upon
one of the peaks of the Tas de Pois for the ebb of the tide. Hence their
late return. Mothers wait on such occasions in feverish anxiety for the
return of their children, and when they find them safe, give vent to
their joy in the shape of anger, and relieve their tears by dealing them
a sound drubbing. The boys accordingly hastened their steps, but in fear
and trembling. Their haste was of that sort which is glad of an excuse
for stopping, and which is not inconsistent with a reluctance to reach
their destination; for they had before them th
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