The man halted in front of him in a
conversational attitude. Merefleet knew the position well. It came back
to him on a flood of memory. He could not believe that it was twenty
years since he had talked with such an one.
"Wind in the nor'-east, sir," said the man.
"Yes. It's cold for the time of year," said Merefleet.
The man assented.
"Fish plentiful?" asked Merefleet.
"Nothing to boast of," was the guarded reply.
Merefleet had expected it. Right well he knew these fisher-folk.
"You get a few visitors now, I see," Merefleet observed.
The fisherman nodded. "Don't know what they come for," he observed.
"Bathing ain't good, and them pleasure-boats--well"--he lifted his
shoulders expressively--"half-a-capful of wind would upset 'em. There's a
lady staying at this here hotel--an American lady she be--what goes out
every day regular, she and a young gentleman with her. They won't have me
nor yet any of my mates to go along, and yet--bless you--they could no
more manage that boat if a squall was to come up nor they could fly. I
told her once as it wasn't safe. And she laughed in my face, sir. She
did, really."
Merefleet smiled a little.
"Well, if she likes to run the risk it's not your fault," he said.
"No, sir. It ain't. But that don't make me any easier. She's a pretty
young lady, too," the man added. "Maybe you've seen her, sir."
Merefleet shook his head.
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