on each, the only hint of animation in their desolate _ensemble_
being the occasional word 'Bade-strand', suggesting that they were
visited in the summer months by a handful of townsfolk for the
sea-bathing. Norderney, of course, was conspicuous in this respect;
but even its town, which I know by repute as a gay and fashionable
watering-place, would be dead and empty for some months in the year,
and could have no commercial importance. No man could do anything on
the mainland coast--a monotonous line of dyke punctuated at intervals
by an infinitesimal village. Glancing idly at the names of these
villages, I noticed that they most of them ended in siel--a repulsive
termination, that seemed appropriate to the whole region. There were
Carolinensiel, Bensersiel, etc. Siel means either a sewer or a
sluice, the latter probably in this case, for I noticed that each
village stood at the outlet of a little stream which evidently
carried off the drainage of the lowlands behind. A sluice, or lock,
would be necessary at the mouth, for at high tide the land is below
the level of the sea. Looking next at the sands outside, I noticed
that across them and towards each outlet a line of booms was marked,
showing that there was some sort of tidal approach to the village,
evidently formed by the scour of the little stream.

'Are we going to explore those?' I asked Davies.

'I don't see the use,' he answered; 'they only lead to those potty
little places. I suppose local galliots use them.'

'How about your torpedo-boats and patrol-boats?'

'They _might,_ at certain tides. But I can't see what value they'd
be, unless as a refuge for a German boat in the last resort. They