We had started
earlier than we fixed the night before, because word had come to Elzevir
that morning that the tide called Gulder would serve for the beaching of
the _Bonaventure_ at three instead of five. 'Tis a strange thing the
Gulder, and not even sailors can count closely with it; for on the Dorset
coast the tide makes four times a day, twice with the common flow, and
twice with the Gulder, and this last being shifty and uncertain as to
time, flings out many a sea-reckoning.
It was about seven o'clock when we were at the top of the hill, and there
were fifteen good miles to cover to get to Hoar Head. Dusk was upon us
before we had walked half an hour; but when the night fell, it was not
black as on the last evening, but a deep sort of blue, and the heat of
the day did not die with the sun, but left the air still warm and balmy.
We trudged on in silence, and were glad enough when we saw by a white
stone here and there at the side of the path that we were nearing the
cliff; for the Preventive men mark all the footpaths on the cliff with
whitewashed stones, so that one can pick up the way without risk on a
dark night. A few minutes more, and we reached a broad piece of open
sward, which I knew for the top of Hoar Head.
Hoar Head is the highest of that line of cliffs, which stretches twenty
miles from Weymouth to St.
Pages:
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122