THE LIGHTHOUSE

tobacco pouch, handed it with a little grunt to
Macalister, and felt, they knew, for all they
suffered, perfectly content. Now they would sail
on for hours like this, and Mr. Ramsay would
ask old Macalister a question—about the great
storm last winter probably—and old Macalister
would answer it, and they would puff their pipes
together, and Macalister would take a tarry rope
in his fingers, tying or untying some knot, and
the boy would fish, and never say a word to any
one, James would be forced to keep his eye all
the time on the sail. For if he forgot, then the
sail puckered, and shivered, and the boat slackened,
and Mr. Ramsay would say sharply, " Look out!
Look out! " and old Macalister would turn slowly
on his seat. So they heard Mr. Ramsay asking
some question about the great storm at Christmas.
" She comes driving round the point/' old
Macalister said, describing the great storm last
Christmas, when ten ships had been driven into
the bay for shelter, and he had seen " one there,
one there, one there " (he pointed slowly round
the bay. Mr. Ramsay followed him, turning his
head). He had seen three men clinging to the
mast. Then she was gone. " And at last we
shoved her off," he went on (but in their anger
and their silence they only caught a word here and
there, sitting at opposite ends of the boat, united

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