and made me call him so--'twas such a narrow shave. I don't mind
telling you about it. 'Tis a curious tale, too.


My grandfather, Hendry Watty, bet four gallons of eggy-hot that he
would row out to the Shivering Grounds, all in the dead waste of the
night, and haul a trammel there. To find the Shivering Grounds by
night, you get the Gull Rock in a line with Tregamenna and pull out
till you open the light on St. Anthony's Point; but everybody gives
the place a wide berth because Archelaus Rowett's lugger foundered
there, one time, with six hands on board; and they say that at night
you can hear the drowned men hailing their names. But my grandfather
was the boldest man in Port Loe, and said he didn't care. So one
Christmas Eve by daylight he and his mates went out and tilled the
trammel; and then they came back and spent the fore-part of the
evening over the eggy-hot, down to Oliver's tiddly-wink, to keep my
grandfather's spirits up and also to show that the bet was made in
earnest.

'Twas past eleven o'clock when they left Oliver's and walked down to
the cove to see my grandfather off. He has told me since that he
didn't feel afraid at all, but very friendly in mind, especially
towards William John Dunn, who was walking on his right hand.
This puzzled him at the first, for as a rule he didn't think much of
William John Dunn. But now he shook hands with him several times,
and just as he was stepping into the boat he says, "You'll take care
of Mary Polly, while I'm away." Mary Polly Polsue was my
grandfather's sweetheart at that time. But why he should have spoken
as if he was bound on a long voyage he never could tell; he used to
set it down to fate.