anchors--head to wind and sea, and everything, from groaning
timbers to song of wind-curved rigging and creak of swinging yard,
seeming to find a voice in answer to the plunge and wash of the
waves, and swirl and patter of flying spray over the high bows--we
found what shelter we might under bulwarks and break of fore deck,
and waited.

My father and I sat on the steersman's bench aft, not heeding the
showers of spray that reached us now and then even there, and we
watched the tide rising over the sand banks, and longed for home
and warm fireside, instead of this cold, gray sky and the restless
waves; though I, at least, was half sorry that the short voyage was
over, dreaming of the next and whither we might turn our ship's
bows again before the summer ended.

My father looked now and then shoreward, and now seaward, judging
wind and tide, and sitting patiently with the wondrous patience of
the seaman, learnt in years of tide and calm; for he would tell me
that sea learning never ends, so that though the sailor seemed to
be idle, he must needs be studying some new turn of his craft if
only his eyes were noting how things went around him. Yet I thought
he was silent beyond his wont.

Presently he rose up and paced the deck for a little, and then came
and sat down by me again.

"I am restless, son Wulfric," he said, laughing softly; "and I know
not why."

"For the sake of supper," I answered, "for I am that also, and tide