fact remains that Polchester sniffed the sea from afar, was caught
with sea breezes and bathed in reflected sea-lights; again and again
of an evening the Cathedral sailed on dust and shadow towards the
horizon, a great white ghost of a galleon, and the young citizens of
the town with wondering eyes, watched it go. But there were more
positive influences than mere cloud and light. We had, in the lower
part of our town, sailors, quite a number of them. There were the
old white-bearded ones who would sit upon tubs and tell smuggling
tales; these haunted the River Pol, fished in it, ferried people
across it, and let out boats for hire. There were younger sailors
who, tired of the still life of their little villages and dreading
the real hard work of a life at sea, lurched and slouched by the
Pol's river bed, fishing a little, sleeping, eating and drinking a
great deal.

And there were the true sailors, passing through perhaps on their
way to Drymouth to join their ships, staying in the town for a day
or two to visit their relations, or simply stopping for an hour or
so to gaze open-mouthed at the Cathedral and the market-place and
the Canons and the old women. These men had sometimes gold rings in
their ears, and their faces were often coloured a dark rich brown,
and they carried bundles across their backs all in the traditional
style.

Then there were influences more subtle than either clouds or men.
There were the influences of the places that we had ourselves seen
in our summer holidays--Rafiel and St. Lowe, Marion Bay or Borhaze--
and, on the other coast, Newbock with its vast stretch of yellow
sand, St. Borse with its wild seas and giant Borse Head, or St.
Nails-in-Cove with its coloured rocks and sparkling shells. Every