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Chapter 7 Cutting from "The Dailygraph," 8 August

  • (PASTED IN MINA MURRAY'S JOURNAL)
  • From a correspondent.
  • Whitby.
  • One of the greatest and suddenest storms on record has just been experience_ere, with results both strange and unique. The weather had been somewha_ultry, but not to any degree uncommon in the month of August. Saturda_vening was as fine as was ever known, and the great body of holiday-maker_aid out yesterday for visits to Mulgrave Woods, Robin Hood's Bay, Rig Mill, Runswick, Staithes, and the various trips in the neighborhood of Whitby. Th_teamers Emma and Scarborough made trips up and down the coast, and there wa_n unusual amount of `tripping' both to and from Whitby. The day was unusuall_ine till the afternoon, when some of the gossips who frequent the East Clif_hurchyard, and from the commanding eminence watch the wide sweep of se_isible to the north and east, called attention to a sudden show of `mare_ails' high in the sky to the northwest. The wind was then blowing from th_outhwest in the mild degree which in barometrical language is ranked `No. 2, light breeze.'
  • The coastguard on duty at once made report, and one old fisherman, who fo_ore than half a century has kept watch on weather signs from the East Cliff, foretold in an emphatic manner the coming of a sudden storm. The approach o_unset was so very beautiful, so grand in its masses of splendidly coloure_louds, that there was quite an assemblage on the walk along the cliff in th_ld churchyard to enjoy the beauty. Before the sun dipped below the black mas_f Kettleness, standing boldly athwart the western sky, its downward was wa_arked by myriad clouds of every sunset colour, flame, purple, pink, green, violet, and all the tints of gold, with here and there masses not large, bu_f seemingly absolute blackness, in all sorts of shapes, as well outlined a_olossal silhouettes. The experience was not lost on the painters, an_oubtless some of the sketches of the `Prelude to the Great Storm' will grac_he R. A and R. I. walls in May next.
  • More than one captain made up his mind then and there that his `cobble' or his `mule', as they term the different classes of boats, would remain in th_arbour till the storm had passed. The wind fell away entirely during th_vening, and at midnight there was a dead calm, a sultry heat, and tha_revailing intensity which, on the approach of thunder, affects persons of _ensitive nature.
  • There were but few lights in sight at sea, for even the coasting steamers, which usually hug the shore so closely, kept well to seaward, and but fe_ishing boats were in sight. The only sail noticeable was a foreign schoone_ith all sails set, which was seemingly going westwards. The foolhardiness o_gnorance of her officers was a prolific theme for comment whilst she remaine_n sight, and efforts were made to signal her to reduce sail in the face o_er danger. Before the night shut down she was seen with sails idly flappin_s she gently rolled on the undulating swell of the sea.
  • "As idle as a painted ship upon a painted ocean."
  • Shortly before ten o'clock the stillness of the air grew quite oppressive, an_he silence was so marked that the bleating of a sheep inland or the barkin_f a dog in the town was distinctly heard, and the band on the pier, with it_ively French air, was like a dischord in the great harmony of nature'_ilence. A little after midnight came a strange sound from over the sea, an_igh overhead the air began to carry a strange, faint, hollow booming.
  • Then without warning the tempest broke. With a rapidity which, at the time, seemed incredible, and even afterwards is impossible to realize, the whol_spect of nature at once became convulsed. The waves rose in growing fury, each overtopping its fellow, till in a very few minutes the lately glassy se_as like a roaring and devouring monster. Whitecrested waves beat madly on th_evel sands and rushed up the shelving cliffs. Others broke over the piers, and with their spume swept the lanthorns of the lighthouses which rise fro_he end of either pier of Whitby Harbour.
  • The wind roared like thunder, and blew with such force that it was wit_ifficulty that even strong men kept their feet, or clung with grim clasp t_he iron stanchions. It was found necessary to clear the entire pier from th_ass of onlookers, or else the fatalities of the night would have increase_anifold. To add to the difficulties and dangers of the time, masses of sea- fog came drifting inland. White, wet clouds, which swept by in ghostl_ashion, so dank and damp and cold that it needed but little effort o_magination to think that the spirits of those lost at sea were touching thei_iving brethren with the clammy hands of death, and many a one shuddered a_he wreaths of sea-mist swept by.
  • At times the mist cleared, and the sea for some distance could be seen in th_lare of the lightning, which came thick and fast, followed by such peals o_hunder that the whole sky overhead seemed trembling under the shock of th_ootsteps of the storm.
  • Some of the scenes thus revealed were of immeasurable grandeur and o_bsorbing interest. The sea, running mountains high, threw skywards with eac_ave mighty masses of white foam, which the tempest seemed to snatch at an_hirl away into space. Here and there a fishing boat, with a rag of sail, running madly for shelter before the blast, now and again the white wings of _torm-tossed seabird. On the summit of the East Cliff the new searchlight wa_eady for experiment, but had not yet been tried. The officers in charge of i_ot it into working order, and in the pauses of onrushing mist swept with i_he surface of the sea. Once or twice its service was most effective, as whe_ fishing boat, with gunwale under water, rushed into the harbour, able, b_he guidance of the sheltering light, to avoid the danger of dashing agains_he piers. As each boat achieved the safety of the port there was a shout o_oy from the mass of people on the shore, a shout which for a moment seemed t_leave the gale and was then swept away in its rush.
  • Before long the searchlight discovered some distance away a schooner with al_ails set, apparently the same vessel which had been noticed earlier in th_vening. The wind had by this time backed to the east, and there was a shudde_mongst the watchers on the cliff as they realized the terrible danger i_hich she now was.
  • Between her and the port lay the great flat reef on which so many good ship_ave from time to time suffered, and, with the wind blowing from its presen_uarter, it would be quite impossible that she should fetch the entrance o_he harbour.
  • It was now nearly the hour of high tide, but the waves were so great that i_heir troughs the shallows of the shore were almost visible, and the schooner, with all sails set, was rushing with such speed that, in the words of one ol_alt, "she must fetch up somewhere, if it was only in hell". Then came anothe_ush of sea-fog, greater than any hitherto, a mass of dank mist, which seeme_o close on all things like a gray pall, and left available to men only th_rgan of hearing, for the roar of the tempest, and the crash of the thunder, and the booming of the mighty billows came through the damp oblivion eve_ouder than before. The rays of the searchlight were kept fixed on the harbou_outh across the East Pier, where the shock was expected, and men waite_reathless.
  • The wind suddenly shifted to the northeast, and the remnant of the sea fo_elted in the blast. And then, mirabile dictu, between the piers, leaping fro_ave to wave as it rushed at headlong speed, swept the strange schooner befor_he blast, with all sail set, and gained the safety of the harbour. Th_earchlight followed her, and a shudder ran through all who saw her, fo_ashed to the helm was a corpse, with drooping head, which swung horribly t_nd fro at each motion of the ship. No other form could be seen on the deck a_ll.
  • A great awe came on all as they realised that the ship, as if by a miracle, had found the harbour, unsteered save by the hand of a dead man! However, al_ook place more quickly than it takes to write these words. The schoone_aused not, but rushing across the harbour, pitched herself on tha_ccumulation of sand and gravel washed by many tides and many storms into th_outheast corner of the pier jutting under the East Cliff, known locally a_ate Hill Pier.
  • There was of course a considerable concussion as the vessel drove up on th_and heap. Every spar, rope, and stay was strained, and some of the `top- hammer' came crashing down. But, strangest of all, the very instant the shor_as touched, an immense dog sprang up on deck from below, as if shot up by th_oncussion, and running forward, jumped from the bow on the sand.
  • Making straight for the steep cliff, where the churchyard hangs over th_aneway to the East Pier so steeply that some of the flat tombstones, thruffsteans or through-stones, as they call them in Whitby vernacular, actually project over where the sustaining cliff has fallen away, i_isappeared in the darkness, which seemed intensified just beyond the focus o_he searchlight.
  • It so happened that there was no one at the moment on Tate Hill Pier, as al_hose whose houses are in close proximity were either in bed or were out o_he heights above. Thus the coastguard on duty on the eastern side of th_arbour, who at once ran down to the little pier, was the first to clim_board. The men working the searchlight, after scouring the entrance of th_arbour without seeing anything, then turned the light on the derelict an_ept it there. The coastguard ran aft, and when he came beside the wheel, ben_ver to examine it, and recoiled at once as though under some sudden emotion.
  • This seemed to pique general curiosity, and quite a number of people began t_un.
  • It is a good way round from the West Cliff by the Drawbridge to Tate Hil_ier, but your correspondent is a fairly good runner, and came well ahead o_he crowd. When I arrived, however, I found already assembled on the pier _rowd, whom the coastguard and police refused to allow to come on board. B_he courtesy of the chief boatman, I was, as your correspondent, permitted t_limb on deck, and was one of a small group who saw the dead seaman whils_ctually lashed to the wheel.
  • It was no wonder that the coastguard was surprised, or even awed, for no_ften can such a sight have been seen. The man was simply fastened by hi_ands, tied one over the other, to a spoke of the wheel. Between the inne_and and the wood was a crucifix, the set of beads on which it was fastene_eing around both wrists and wheel, and all kept fast by the binding cords.
  • The poor fellow may have been seated at one time, but the flapping an_uffeting of the sails had worked through the rudder of the wheel and ha_ragged him to and fro, so that the cords with which he was tied had cut th_lesh to the bone.
  • Accurate note was made of the state of things, and a doctor, Surgeon J. M.
  • Caffyn, of 33, East Elliot Place, who came immediately after me, declared, after making examination, that the man must have been dead for quite two days.
  • In his pocket was a bottle, carefully corked, empty save for a little roll o_aper, which proved to be the addendum to the log.
  • The coastguard said the man must have tied up his own hands, fastening th_nots with his teeth. The fact that a coastguard was the first on board ma_ave some complications later on, in the Admiralty Court, for coastguard_annot claim the salvage which is the right of the first civilian entering o_ derelict. Already, however, the legal tongues are wagging, and one young la_tudent is loudly asserting that the rights of the owner are alread_ompletely sacrificed, his property being held in contravention of the statue_f mortmain, since the tiller, as emblemship, if not proof, of delegate_ossession, is held in a dead hand.
  • It is needless to say that the dead steersman has been reverently removed fro_he place where he held his honourable watch and ward till death, _teadfastness as noble as that of the young Casabianca, and placed in th_ortuary to await inquest.
  • Already the sudden storm is passing, and its fierceness is abating. Crowds ar_cattering backward, and the sky is beginning to redden over the Yorkshir_olds.
  • I shall send, in time for your next issue, further details of the derelic_hip which found her way so miraculously into harbour in the storm.
  • 9 August.—The sequel to the strange arrival of the derelict in the storm las_ight is almost more startling than the thing itself. It turns out that th_chooner is Russian from Varna, and is called the Demeter. She is almos_ntirely in ballast of silver sand, with only a small amount of cargo, _umber of great wooden boxes filled with mould.
  • This cargo was consigned to a Whitby solicitor, Mr. S. F. Billington, of 7, The Crescent, who this morning went aboard and took formal possession of th_oods consigned to him.
  • The Russian consul, too, acting for the charter-party, took formal possessio_f the ship, and paid all harbour dues, etc.
  • Nothing is talked about here today except the strange coincidence. Th_fficials of the Board of Trade have been most exacting in seeing that ever_ompliance has been made with existing regulations. As the matter is to be a `nine days wonder', they are evidently determined that there shall be no caus_f other complaint.
  • A good deal of interest was abroad concerning the dog which landed when th_hip struck, and more than a few of the members of the S. P.C.A., which i_ery strong in Whitby, have tried to befriend the animal. To the genera_isappointment, however, it was not to be found. It seems to have disappeare_ntirely from the town. It may be that it was frightened and made its way o_o the moors, where it is still hiding in terror.
  • There are some who look with dread on such a possibility, lest later on i_hould in itself become a danger, for it is evidently a fierce brute. Earl_his morning a large dog, a half-bred mastiff belonging to a coal merchan_lose to Tate Hill Pier, was found dead in the roadway opposite its master'_ard. It had been fighting, and manifestly had had a savage opponent, for it_hroat was torn away, and its belly was slit open as if with a savage claw.
  • Later.—By the kindness of the Board of Trade inspector, I have been permitte_o look over the log book of the Demeter, which was in order up to withi_hree days, but contained nothing of special interest except as to facts o_issing men. The greatest interest, however, is with regard to the paper foun_n the bottle, which was today produced at the inquest. And a more strang_arrative than the two between them unfold it has not been my lot to com_cross.
  • As there is no motive for concealment, I am permitted to use them, an_ccordingly send you a transcript, simply omitting technical details o_eamanship and supercargo. It almost seems as though the captain had bee_eized with some kind of mania before he had got well into blue water, an_hat this had developed persistently throughout the voyage. Of course m_tatement must be taken cum grano, since I am writing from the dictation of _lerk of the Russian consul, who kindly translated for me, time being short.
  • LOG OF THE "DEMETER" Varna to Whitby
  • Written 18 July, things so strange happening, that I shall keep accurate not_enceforth till we land.
  • On 6 July we finished taking in cargo, silver sand and boxes of earth. At noo_et sail. East wind, fresh. Crew, five hands … two mates, cook, and myself, (captain).
  • On 11 July at dawn entered Bosphorus. Boarded by Turkish Customs officers.
  • Backsheesh. All correct. Under way at 4 p. m.
  • On 12 July through Dardanelles. More Customs officers and flagboat of guardin_quadron. Backsheesh again. Work of officers thorough, but quick. Want us of_oon. At dark passed into Archipelago.
  • On 13 July passed Cape Matapan. Crew dissatisfied about something. Seeme_cared, but would not speak out.
  • On 14 July was somewhat anxious about crew. Men all steady fellows, who saile_ith me before. Mate could not make out what was wrong. They only told hi_here was SOME- THING, and crossed themselves. Mate lost temper with one o_hem that day and struck him. Expected fierce quarrel, but all was quiet.
  • On 16 July mate reported in the morning that one of the crew, Petrofsky, wa_issing. Could not account for it. Took larboard watch eight bells last night, was relieved by Amramoff, but did not go to bunk. Men more downcast than ever.
  • All said they expected something of the kind, but would not say more tha_here was SOMETHING aboard. Mate getting very impatient with them. Feared som_rouble ahead.
  • On 17 July, yesterday, one of the men, Olgaren, came to my cabin, and in a_westruck way confided to me that he thought there was a strange man aboar_he ship. He said that in his watch he had been sheltering behind th_eckhouse, as there was a rain storm, when he saw a tall, thin man, who wa_ot like any of the crew, come up the companionway, and go along the dec_orward and disappear. He followed cautiously, but when he got to bows foun_o one, and the hatchways were all closed. He was in a panic of superstitiou_ear, and I am afraid the panic may spread. To allay it, I shall today searc_he entire ship carefully from stem to stern.
  • Later in the day I got together the whole crew, and told them, as the_vidently thought there was some one in the ship, we would search from stem t_tern. First mate angry, said it was folly, and to yield to such foolish idea_ould demoralise the men, said he would engage to keep them out of troubl_ith the handspike. I let him take the helm, while the rest began a thoroug_earch, all keeping abreast, with lanterns. We left no corner unsearched. A_here were only the big wooden boxes, there were no odd corners where a ma_ould hide. Men much relieved when search over, and went back to wor_heerfully. First mate scowled, but said nothing.
  • 22 July.—Rough weather last three days, and all hands busy with sails, no tim_o be frightened. Men seem to have forgotten their dread. Mate cheerful again, and all on good terms. Praised men for work in bad weather. Passed Gibralta_nd out through Straits. All well.
  • 24 July.—There seems some doom over this ship. Already a hand short, an_ntering the Bay of Biscay with wild weather ahead, and yet last night anothe_an lost, disappeared. Like the first, he came off his watch and was not see_gain. Men all in a panic of fear, sent a round robin, asking to have doubl_atch, as they fear to be alone. Mate angry. Fear there will be some trouble, as either he or the men will do some violence.
  • 28 July.—Four days in hell, knocking about in a sort of malestrom, and th_ind a tempest. No sleep for any one. Men all worn out. Hardly know how to se_ watch, since no one fit to go on. Second mate volunteered to steer an_atch, and let men snatch a few hours sleep. Wind abating, seas stil_errific, but feel them less, as ship is steadier.
  • 29 July.—Another tragedy. Had single watch tonight, as crew too tired t_ouble. When morning watch came on deck could find no one except steersman.
  • Raised outcry, and all came on deck. Thorough search, but no one found. Ar_ow without second mate, and crew in a panic. Mate and I agreed to go arme_enceforth and wait for any sign of cause.
  • 30 July.—Last night. Rejoiced we are nearing England. Weather fine, all sail_et. Retired worn out, slept soundly, awakened by mate telling me that bot_an of watch and steersman missing. Only self and mate and two hands left t_ork ship.
  • 1 August.—Two days of fog, and not a sail sighted. Had hoped when in th_nglish Channel to be able to signal for help or get in somewhere. Not havin_ower to work sails, have to run before wind. Dare not lower, as could no_aise them again. We seem to be drifting to some terrible doom. Mate now mor_emoralised than either of men. His stronger nature seems to have worke_nwardly against himself. Men are beyond fear, working stolidly and patiently, with minds made up to worst. They are Russian, he Roumanian.
  • 2 August, midnight.—Woke up from few minutes sleep by hearing a cry, seemingl_utside my port. Could see nothing in fog. Rushed on deck, and ran agains_ate. Tells me he heard cry and ran, but no sign of man on watch. One mor_one. Lord, help us! Mate says we must be past Straits of Dover, as in _oment of fog lifting he saw North Foreland, just as he heard the man cry out.
  • If so we are now off in the North Sea, and only God can guide us in the fog, which seems to move with us, and God seems to have deserted us.
  • 3 August.—At midnight I went to relieve the man at the wheel and when I got t_t found no one there. The wind was steady, and as we ran before it there wa_o yawing. I dared not leave it, so shouted for the mate. After a few seconds, he rushed up on deck in his flannels. He looked wild-eyed and haggard, and _reatly fear his reason has given way. He came close to me and whispere_oarsely, with his mouth to my ear, as though fearing the very air might hear.
  • "It is here. I know it now. On the watch last night I saw It, like a man, tal_nd thin, and ghastly pale. It was in the bows, and looking out. I crep_ehind It, and gave it my knife, but the knife went through It, empty as th_ir." And as he spoke he took the knife and drove it savagely into space. The_e went on, "But It is here, and I'll find It. It is in the hold, perhaps i_ne of those boxes. I'll unscrew them one by one and see. You work the helm."
  • And with a warning look and his finger on his lip, he went below. There wa_pringing up a choppy wind, and I could not leave the helm. I saw him come ou_n deck again with a tool chest and lantern, and go down the forward hatchway.
  • He is mad, stark, raving mad, and it's no use my trying to stop him. He can'_urt those big boxes, they are invoiced as clay, and to pull them about is a_armless a thing as he can do. So here I stay and mind the helm, and writ_hese notes. I can only trust in God and wait till the fog clears. Then, if _an't steer to any harbour with the wind that is, I shall cut down sails, an_ie by, and signal for help …
  • It is nearly all over now. Just as I was beginning to hope that the mate woul_ome out calmer, for I heard him knocking away at something in the hold, an_ork is good for him, there came up the hatchway a sudden, startled scream, which made my blood run cold, and up on the deck he came as if shot from _un, a raging madman, with his eyes rolling and his face convulsed with fear.
  • "Save me! Save me!" he cried, and then looked round on the blanket of fog. Hi_orror turned to despair, and in a steady voice he said,"You had better com_oo, captain, before it is too late. He is there! I know the secret now. Th_ea will save me from Him, and it is all that is left!" Before I could say _ord, or move forward to seize him, he sprang on the bulwark and deliberatel_hrew himself into the sea. I suppose I know the secret too, now. It was thi_adman who had got rid of the men one by one, and now he has followed the_imself. God help me! How am I to account for all these horrors when I get t_ort? When I get to port! Will that ever be?
  • 4 August.—Still fog, which the sunrise cannot pierce, I know there is sunris_ecause I am a sailor, why else I know not. I dared not go below, I dared no_eave the helm, so here all night I stayed, and in the dimness of the night _aw it, Him! God, forgive me, but the mate was right to jump overboard. It wa_etter to die like a man. To die like a sailor in blue water, no man ca_bject. But I am captain, and I must not leave my ship. But I shall baffl_his fiend or monster, for I shall tie my hands to the wheel when my strengt_egins to fail, and along with them I shall tie that which He, It, dare no_ouch. And then, come good wind or foul, I shall save my soul, and my honou_s a captain. I am growing weaker, and the night is coming on. If He can loo_e in the face again, I may not have time to act … If we are wrecked, mayha_his bottle may be found, and those who find it may understand. If not … well, then all men shall know that I have been true to my trust. God and the Blesse_irgin and the Saints help a poor ignorant soul trying to do his duty …
  • Of course the verdict was an open one. There is no evidence to adduce, an_hether or not the man himself committed the murders there is now none to say.
  • The folk here hold almost universally that the captain is simply a hero, an_e is to be given a public funeral. Already it is arranged that his body is t_e taken with a train of boats up the Esk for a piece and then brought back t_ate Hill Pier and up the abbey steps, for he is to be buried in th_hurchyard on the cliff. The owners of more than a hundred boats have alread_iven in their names as wishing to follow him to the grave.
  • No trace has ever been found of the great dog, at which there is muc_ourning, for, with public opinion in its present state, he would, I believe, be adopted by the town. Tomorrow will see the funeral, and so will end thi_ne more `mystery of the sea'.
  • MINA MURRAY'S JOURNAL
  • 8 August.—Lucy was very restless all night, and I too, could not sleep. Th_torm was fearful, and as it boomed loudly among the chimney pots, it made m_hudder. When a sharp puff came it seemed to be like a distant gun. Strangel_nough, Lucy did not wake, but she got up twice and dressed herself.
  • Fortunately, each time I awoke in time and managed to undress her withou_aking her, and got her back to bed. It is a very strange thing, this sleep- walking, for as soon as her will is thwarted in any physical way, he_ntention, if there be any, disappears, and she yields herself almost exactl_o the routine of her life.
  • Early in the morning we both got up and went down to the harbour to see i_nything had happened in the night. There were very few people about, an_hough the sun was bright, and the air clear and fresh, the big, grim-lookin_aves, that seemed dark themselves because the foam that topped them was lik_now, forced themselves in through the mouth of the harbour, like a bullyin_an going through a crowd. Somehow I felt glad that Jonathan was not on th_ea last night, but on land. But, oh, is he on land or sea? Where is he, an_ow? I am getting fearfully anxious about him. If I only knew what to do, an_ould do anything!
  • 10 August.—The funeral of the poor sea captain today was most touching. Ever_oat in the harbour seemed to be there, and the coffin was carried by captain_ll the way from Tate Hill Pier up to the churchyard. Lucy came with me, an_e went early to our old seat, whilst the cortege of boats went up the rive_o the Viaduct and came down again. We had a lovely view, and saw th_rocession nearly all the way. The poor fellow was laid to rest near our sea_o that we stood on it, when the time came and saw everything.
  • Poor Lucy seemed much upset. She was restless and uneasy all the time, and _annot but think that her dreaming at night is telling on her. She is quit_dd in one thing. She will not admit to me that there is any cause fo_estlessness, or if there be, she does not understand it herself.
  • There is an additional cause in that poor Mr. Swales was found dead thi_orning on our seat, his neck being broken. He had evidently, as the docto_aid, fallen back in the seat in some sort of fright, for there was a look o_ear and horror on his face that the men said made them shudder. Poor dear ol_an!
  • Lucy is so sweet and sensitive that she feels influences more acutely tha_ther people do. Just now she was quite upset by a little thing which I di_ot much heed, though I am myself very fond of animals.
  • One of the men who came up here often to look for the boats was followed b_is dog. The dog is always with him. They are both quiet persons, and I neve_aw the man angry, nor heard the dog bark. During the service the dog woul_ot come to its master, who was on the seat with us, but kept a few yards off, barking and howling. Its master spoke to it gently, and then harshly, and the_ngrily. But it would neither come nor cease to make a noise. It was in _ury, with its eyes savage, and all its hair bristling out like a cat's tai_hen puss is on the war path.
  • Finally the man too got angry, and jumped down and kicked the dog, and the_ook it by the scruff of the neck and half dragged and half threw it on th_ombstone on which the seat is fixed. The moment it touched the stone the poo_hing began to tremble. It did not try to get away, but crouched down, quivering and cowering, and was in such a pitiable state of terror that _ried, though without effect, to comfort it.
  • Lucy was full of pity, too, but she did not attempt to touch the dog, bu_ooked at it in an agonised sort of way. I greatly fear that she is of to_uper sensitive a nature to go through the world without trouble. She will b_reaming of this tonight, I am sure. The whole agglomeration of things, th_hip steered into port by a dead man, his attitude, tied to the wheel with _rucifix and beads, the touching funeral, the dog, now furious and now i_error, will all afford material for her dreams.
  • I think it will be best for her to go to bed tired out physically, so I shal_ake her for a long walk by the cliffs to Robin Hood's Bay and back. She ough_ot to have much inclination for sleep-walking then.