He leaned back on the bench, and fixed his eyes on the sea, and
wondered languidly what had come to him. Farnaby and the woman, still
following, waited round the corner where they could just keep him in
view.

The blue lustre of the sky was without a cloud; the sunny sea leapt
under the fresh westerly breeze. From the beach, the cries of children
at play, the shouts of donkey-boys driving their poor beasts, the
distant notes of brass instruments playing a waltz, and the mellow
music of the small waves breaking on the sand, rose joyously together
on the fragrant air. On the next bench, a dirty old boatman was prosing
to a stupid old visitor. Mr. Ronald listened, with a sense of vacant
content in the mere act of listening. The boatman's words found their
way to his ears like the other sounds that were abroad in the air.
"Yes; them's the Goodwin Sands, where you see the lightship. And that
steamer there, towing a vessel into the harbour, that's the Ramsgate
Tug. Do you know what I should like to see? I should like to see the
Ramsgate Tug blow up. Why? I'll tell you why. I belong to Broadstairs;
I don't belong to Ramsgate. Very well. I'm idling here, as you may see,
without one copper piece in my pocket to rub against another. What
trade do I belong to? I don't belong to no trade; I belong to a boat.
The boat's rotting at Broadstairs, for want of work. And all along of
what? All along of the Tug. The Tug has took the bread out of our
mouths: me and my mates. Wait a bit; I'll show you how. What did a ship
do, in the good old times, when she got on them sands--Goodwin Sands?
Went to pieces, if it come on to blow; or got sucked down little by
little when it was fair weather. Now I'm coming to it. What did We do
(in the good old times, mind you) when we happened to see that ship in
distress? Out with our boat; blow high or blow low, out with our boat.
And saved the lives of the crew, did you say? Well, yes; saving the