-a perfectly sound distinction. Probably it was some
commercial-minded lodger or beach-chatterer, from whom he picked up the
opinion that nowadays, to get on, you must run with the hare and hunt
with the hounds--a precept which he quotes with cynical gusto but
carries out only so far as suits his feelings. He aims at being
businesslike, but the businesslike side of his character is the more
superficial. Pride will not allow him to boggle over bargains. "Take
it, or leave it," is his way. Most up-to-date in what he does do, he is
no pioneer, and follows a lead grudgingly when innovations are in
question. Most progressive outwardly, he is the most conservative at
heart. A reader of his daily paper, he speaks the broadest Devon of
them all; scrupulously groomed after the modern way, and a smoker of
cigarettes (he was laughed out of a pipe I've heard say), he still
wears the old-fashioned seaman's high-heeled shoes. Tobacco is his
obvious, his humane, weakness. What his other weaknesses are, I don't
know. He strikes one as master of his fate, never yet wrecked, nor
contemplating it. Did such a misfortune occur ... who knows what would
happen? He is now, in his youth, so full of strength.

* * * * *

About ten o'clock, Tony, who was snoozing in the courting chair (Mrs
Widger had gone on to bed) woke up with a "How about they boats?" I
went out to look.

[Sidenote: _THE HIGH TIDE WAVES_]

The sea was covered with that pallid darkness which comes over it when
the moon is hidden behind low rain-clouds. Out of the darkness, the
waves seemed to spring suddenly, without warning at one's very feet.
Every now and then, when a swell and a lop came in together, their
combined steady force and quick energy swept right up the beach,
rattling the pebbles round the sterns of the boats. For the better part
of an hour I waited. Then, after a sea had thrown some shingle right
into a boat, I called Tony.

"'Tis past high water, en' it?" he said sleepily.

"Thee't better come out an' see for thyself!"

He dragged himself up and out. "'Tis al'ys like thees yer wi' the likes
o' us. 'Tis a life o'it!"

"Aye," he said, "the say's goin' down now sure 'nuff. Better git in
house again. Raining is it?"

"God! Look out!"

A sea lifted Tony's and John's sailing boats; was sweeping them down
the beach. We rushed, one to each boat, and hung on. Another sea swept
the pebbles from under our feet--it felt