hune to seek his treasure in; for had it been
buried there, he would have had a hundred chances to have it up in his
lifetime. However this may be, though I was brave as a lion by day, and
used indeed to frequent the churchyard, because there was the widest
view of the sea to be obtained from it, yet no reward would have taken me
thither at night. Nor was I myself without some witness to the tale, for
having to walk to Ringstave for Dr. Hawkins on the night my aunt broke
her leg, I took the path along the down which overlooks the churchyard at
a mile off; and thence most certainly saw a light moving to and fro about
the church, where no honest man could be at two o'clock in the morning.

CHAPTER 2

THE FLOODS

Then banks came down with ruin and rout,
Then beaten spray flew round about,
Then all the mighty floods were out,
And all the world was in the sea _--Jean Ingelow_

On the third of November, a few days after this visit to the Why Not?,
the wind, which had been blowing from the south-west, began about four in
the afternoon to rise in sudden strong gusts. The rooks had been
pitch-falling all the morning, so we knew that bad weather was due; and
when we came out from the schooling that Mr. Glennie gave us in the hall
of the old almshouses, there were wisps of thatch, and even stray tiles,
flying from the roofs, and the children sang:

Blow wind, rise storm,
Ship ashore before morn.

It is heathenish rhyme that has come down out of other and worse times;
for though I do not say but that a wreck on Moonfleet beach was looked
upon sometimes as little short of a godsend, yet I hope none of us were
so wicked as to _wish_ a vessel to be wrecked that we might share in the
plunder. Indeed, I have known the men of Moonfleet risk their own lives a
hundred times to save those of shipwrecked mariners, as when the
_Darius_, East Indiaman, came ashore; nay, even poor nameless corpses
washed up were sure of Christian burial, or perhaps of one of Master
Ratsey's headstones to set forth sex and date, as may be seen in the
churchyard to this day.

Our village lies near the centre of Moonfleet Bay, a great bight twenty
miles across, and a death-trap to up-channel sailors in a
south-westerly gale. For with that wind blowing strong from south, if
you cannot double the Snout, you must most surely come ashore; and many
a good ship failing to round that point has beat up and down the bay
all day, but come to beach in the