your greasy night-cap to anybody but your parish clerk, then take
it off to the captain who can find his harbor in a fog like this.
You can give him my kind regards and say I said so." And he let go
of the cart so suddenly that it swung over to the other side.

"I may as well take it off to you, as the other doesn't seem able
to find us to-day," said the farmer with a grin, and took off his
fur cap, disclosing a large bald head.

"Cover up that great bald pumpkin, or upon my word I'll give it
something!" cried the pilot, blind with rage, and beginning to
clamber up into the cart.

At that moment, like the thin metallic voice of a telephone, there
came faintly from the sea the words: "We--hear--a--steam--whistle!"

The pilot ran off on to the breakwater, hitting out as he passed at
the farmer's horse, and making it rear. Men cleared a space round
the mooring-posts, and dragged up the gangways with frantic speed.
Carts that had hay in them, as if they were come to fetch cattle,
began to move without having anywhere to drive to. Everything was in
motion. Labor-hirers with red noses and cunning eyes, came hurrying
down from the sailors' tavern where they had been keeping themselves
warm.

Then as if a huge hand had been laid upon the movement, everything
suddenly stood still again, in strained effort to hear. A far-off,
tiny echo of a steam whistle whined somewhere a long way off. Men
stole together into groups and stood motionless, listening and
sending angry glances at the restless carts. Was it real, or was