the Fork, and were entering the labyrinth of detached banks which
obstruct the funnel-shaped cavity between the upper and middle
prongs. This I knew from the chart. My unaided eye saw nothing but
the open sea, growing dark green as the depths increased; a dour,
threatening sea, showing its white fangs. The waves grew longer and
steeper, for the channels, though still tortuous, now begin to be
broad and deep.

Davies had his bearings, and struck on his course confidently. 'Now
for the lead,' he said; 'the compass'll be little use soon. We must
feel the edge of the sands till we pick up more booms.'

'Where are we going to anchor for the night?' I asked.

'Under the Hohenhörn,' said Davies, 'for auld lang syne!'

Partly by sight and mostly by touch we crept round the outermost
alley of the hidden maze till a new clump of booms appeared,
meaningless to me, but analysed by him into two groups. One we
followed for some distance, and then struck finally away and began
another beat to windward.

Dusk was falling. The Hanover coast-line, never very distinct, had
utterly vanished; an ominous heave of swell was under-running the
short sea. I ceased to attend to Davies imparting instruction on his
beloved hobby, and sought to stifle in hard manual labour the dread
that had been latent in me all day at the prospect of our first
anchorage at sea.

'Sound, like blazes now!' he said at last. I came to a fathom and a