Barton Broad

"'The governor looks like business this morning, Mr. Wye.'

said george as i made myself comfortable in the stern and commenced writing and indeed i felt like business as the sheets were rapidly filled with the occurrences of days before in this connection i might perhaps say that although i cannot claim to have a good memory generally yet the incidents of my yachting trips appear almost to be stereotyped on my brain so although my diary had fallen sadly into arrears i had no difficulty in committing to paper all that had happened although john more than once grumblingly asserted it would never be completed whilst i am at work with my papers a spirit of mischief appears to possess john who every now and again worries george with some antic or another until at last he takes refuge in flight making as his excuse the suggestion that we shall get on quicker by towing so for a time i am quite undisturbed and as i feel in form i am afraid it is rather slow work for my chum but at last i give it up for a bit of a rest the higher we get up the river the prettier it becomes and when we reach ersted shoals a famous spot for pike and perch more especially the latter we are much struck with the pretty little church of st michael perhaps it owes something to its position but i confess the view selected by mr george christopher davies in his first series of photo etchings is a very special favourite of mine at some little distance from the church and on the opposite side of the river the hull of an old yacht has been converted to the uses of an eel set and as we pass by forms the subject of speculation as to when it was last under sail a very little distance from the shoals barton broad is gained and a beautiful lake it is covering three hundred acres in the centre of the broad is a little island perhaps half an acre in extent to this we rode and as it was declared a capital place for luncheon we stayed for nearly an hour view from this point is very pretty and extensive and just then was enlivened by two yachts one a cutter the other a latine the last name rig by the way used to be in common use on norfolk waters the enormous foresail permitted of the boats being sailed extremely close to the wind besides which they could be worked single-handed One very bad characteristic, however, led to their ultimate disuse.

This fault consisted in running completely under with a stiff, stern breeze.

Had I the time or space, I could give many a yarn of the consequences of this ugly trick of theirs, which a veteran Latine sailor at Stalham once told me.

the cutter i have mentioned was very skilfully managed by its one occupant and we were much interested in the evident practical knowledge he had of the different channels these are marked out by posts but to any one unacquainted with the broad appear as maze-like as possible when we started again in the dinghy for barton the wind had nearly died away and the effect of everything reflected on the surface of the lake was very beautiful once or twice i asked george to cease rowing so peaceful everything appeared and we felt sorry when we at last turned into the dyke leading to barton staithe where of course the view was more confined i don't suppose the weekly half-holiday movement has extended to barton but if so i should guess saturday must be devoted to its observance anyway the only living soul we saw as we rowed to the landing-place was a small boy on a wherry who was playing with a toy fishing-rod and who intently watched his float with all the gravity of a much older devotee of the gentle art further along we passed a boat-building yard where several wherries were lying in and out of the water but all these were entirely untenanted when we landed too we might have come to a village of the dead for all the evidences of life in the active sense that we could discover presently however a door opened and a healthy-looking lass appeared who seemed extremely astonished when we asked the time evidently she thought we were making fun of her but at last accepted the explanation that we had forgotten our watches twenty minutes to four she announced and we suddenly realised the fact that if we intended making acol we must lose no time in starting back so after thanking our fair informant we hurriedly embarked and soon the little dinghy was forging through the water at a very rapid rate when the first spurt was over and we were going more quietly we noticed perfect shoals of fish which darted in all directions on our approach i should say the fishing on barton broad is free in the summer time by courtesy of the owner and is easily gained from stalham a station on the eastern and midlands railway where boats can be hired and every accommodation found as we entered the river again i asked george to ease off just for a last peep at the broad course he assented but warned us we must not stay long as we had all our work cut out so we started again but as a bend of the river shut out the view i could not help remarking to john that if visitors were not delighted with the scenery of our lakeland they must be difficult indeed to please the long row across the broad had evidently pumped george so i volunteered to go ashore with a tow-line and as i was quite fresh the labour was very slight as a matter of fact if quick passages are necessary i very much recommend this method especially if the tow paths are good the distance from the broad to the mouth of the river is about four and a half miles and when half this distance had been covered john insisted on taking my place shortly after this change had been made we came up with three or four donkeys and george suggested to jack that he should try and harness one to the line i scarcely need say this was attempted forthwith but all efforts to carry the idea into execution proved unavailing as every time the boat came near enough for john to make a rush for the nearest donkey off they all started i must not forget to tell of an enormous number of starlings we saw just before we gained ludham for some minutes before we reached the yacht large detachments appeared to be arriving from all parts and making a common centre in a marsh a little to the north of the bridge as we came up to the spot we all three shouted at the tops of our voices and the result was worth all the exertion a great body of the birds rose with a wonderful rushing noise which sounded strange in the stillness prevailing around so vast was their number that they seemed to resemble a heavy cloud and altogether it was a sight well worth seeing in this connection i would especially direct the attention of visitors from london to the opportunity they have of making a study of the ornithology of the broad district of course i refer to the grand collection of wild birds at the natural history museum at south kensington to which lord walsingham has so liberally contributed and to whom i believe the happy thought of placing them apart owes its inception i was recently looking through the collection and was particularly struck with the beautifully lifelike manner in which the subjects were mounted on boarding the buttercup we lost no time in getting away as signs of twilight were showing whilst one took the quant another started on shaking the reefs out of and hoisting the sails but when we once again floated on the bure both the day and the wind were nearly spent as we slowly sail past the abbey i may say that this is a very favourite fishing ground and any day in the season half a dozen or more fishing parties will be found located here and good takes are often reported somehow as we draw on to our resting place night appears to close around more quickly than usual and presently we see on our left the pale light of the crescent moon it is the first time we have seen it therefore we make much ceremony of turning our money i am afraid i must not attribute to this cause the fact that almost immediately after a nice little breeze sprang up but certain it is that such was the case as we passed thurn mouth the old eel setter wished us a cheery good night as i have mentioned these eel sets before in the course of our wanderings it may not be out of place to say something about them many a time as one sails along in the early evening on our waterways these primitive noah's ark like structures which during the day have appeared quite deserted will be found to be occupied and as the yacht drifts past the eel setter salutes although it may not perhaps be noticed by the unobservant tourist yet the eel catcher has not emerged from his hut for the sole purpose of speaking the wherry or yacht the fact is his nets demand unceasing attention or they would soon be destroyed they consist of a wall of fine mesh net stretched quite across the river fastened by ropes to stakes on either bank the bottom being kept down by means of lead sinkers and the upper line supported by cork floats as the streams are navigable the net has to be sunk to the bottom on the approach of a wherry this is done by means of three lines attached to the top line and led through blocks fixed to stakes at the bottom of the water to the eel setters hut on the shore by hauling on these lines the net is sunk to the bottom and the craft passes over without injuring the nets after which it is raised to the surface again in this long wall of net are three or four openings to which purse nets about eighteen feet long stretched on hoops like bow nets are attached the far end being closed these pods as they are called are extended downstream and fastened to stakes in the river bottom their positions being marked by floats the eel sets are worked at night during the autumn months and when the fish are running to the sea therefore of course only while the water is ebbing i have quite lately had a long chat with the proprietor of the eel set at thurn and he was good enough to give me some very interesting details of his particular set which has four pods he informed me that eels up to seven pounds in weight had been captured but that it was a very rare thing for any other fish to be caught

chapter fourteen chapter fifteen

of notes on the broads and rivers of norfolk and suffolk by harry britton up the muck fleet to filby rollsby and ormsby the early part of the morning of the last day of our trip was devoted to a regular clean-up the sails although we had decided to dispense with their use throughout the day were hoisted and given a thorough airing as the heavy dews of the night before had made them very damp along the boom we hung numerous towels and other things to dry and one way and another were not surprised at several wherrymen calling out as they passed that they supposed it was washing day i should say that all this took place before breakfast after which we walked to the village for letters to our surprise however none had arrived for us although we had expected to hear from our mutual friend braddy who it will be remembered spent the first day with us why not wire and ask him to come suggested john the same idea had also occurred to me so we telegraphed him to start by next train

When we got back to the boat we saw the man fast asleep on the counter, with his rod in the river in tow of a large perch weighing one pound and a half, which we secured.

About a mile further, on the right hand, as we ascend the river, is the mouth of the river Ant, leading to Barton Broad and Statham, of which more anon.

The river is getting uncommonly pretty, said Wynn, and this slow tacking enables me to see it to advantage, eh? How close we steer to the fishing-boats.

And, pray tell me, why do fishermen in Norfolk wear such extraordinary hats? Here is another dyke.

It is marked by the presence of a church on the western bank and is one of the few places on these waters where a person who cannot swim can bathe with safety or comfort.

The muddy bottom, of course, prohibits wading.

As you approach the entrance to Barton Broad, the bottom becomes muddy again, and the broad itself is full of mud, there being large hills where the water is not more than two feet deep.

The navigable channels wind between these hills and are marked out by posts.

Our wild career was soon stopped when we came in sight of Ludham Bridge.

the visitors when they saw the small semicircular hole in a brick wall which is dignified by this name resolutely declined to believe we could ever get through but down came both masts and the little old boat got through all right just scraping under with everybody holding on to the gaff to keep the end of the mast down and something on one side cutting a great groove in the brickwork as we just got through the zoe however was not so lucky and was obliged to keep the wrong side of the bridge the liar was great in telling how on one occasion he was in a big wherry and the man helped her through by drawing water in buckets over the bells and emptying them behind so as to lower her forehead but his story was not looked on as up to his usual mark and seemed wanting in probability still there is no doubt that barton broad the prettiest and quaintest of all the broads is practically barred to all large boats by this wretched little bridge for people don't care to take a wherry up just scrape through and then if a little rain comes on find themselves literally prisoners to perhaps half a dozen miles of water for an unlimited time one of these days when my old boat gets really too old to use any longer i mean to freight her with gunpowder man her with yarmouth pirates wedge her by accident under luddon bridge and then have another accident and so win myself eternal thanks from all local yachtsmen when we got to ersted mill we were also taken with a story of the skipper's of a catch of fish he had had there recently that we moored to the bank and arranged to stay the night there some of us walking back to have another look at ludham and to get a sight of the interior of the church which was shut when we went there the evening before a fine big old church it is too standing in a big green churchyard but sadly out of repair when we came back we found the rest of our party sitting lazily by the old drainage mill pulling out rudd as fast as they could a very curious experience it was to most of us to see grave respectable people capturing large goldfish for edible purposes for one really can hardly tell a small rud from a big goldfish very good eating they were too later on at dinner but it was cruel work cooking them in the muggy dead heat of the autumn night which made the caboose almost unbearable the heat had been great all day and just as the sun was setting it seemed to get greater still for there was not a breath of wind stirring anywhere the fish were biting very fast indeed more so indeed than i have ever seen them before or since when all of a sudden they left off and the fishers who had resumed their labours after dinner left off too then there was a curiously rapid accession of darkness and next a little growl of thunder and the solitary sallow bush stirred its leaves for a second or two before it once more became as still as if it were in a photograph next came a nearer growl and just a shine of lightning and we knew we were in for a good old-fashioned marsh storm tumgate and the other men were not long before they downed the mast and spread the covers over the cabin top and before they had well done there was a flare and a crack not a mile off that made us all jump in earnest we were hardly in time to catch the full effect for we were all inside but before the next came we were all on the lookout then it came with a vengeance for out of a great black low cloud flashed a bayonet-like flare that dazzled our eyes beyond bearing and as it seemed to thrust itself into the earth behind ludham hall which stands on a mound it lit up the edges of the trees and house in the most intensely vivid way before we could think or say a word the heavy thunder crash was upon us shaking the boat till one could almost fancy that it rocked a little on the water we were all affected differently all were decidedly of a more serious turn of mind than we had been an hour before the antiquary tried to remember the records of more violent storms as a sort of consolation to fatima the poet who as noted before was suspected of romanistic tendencies muttered something in a foreign tongue which we had reason to believe he considered latin i tried to take comfort in the fact that the adjoining mill was a much more prominent object than our boat low lying on the water as it was fatter man who i believe in his native land is not wholly unconnected with iron goods endeavoured to explain what a desirable thing it would be if the whole of the marshes were secured from lightning by the erection of certain rods details of which and of other expense he gave me but which i have forgotten though i shall be happy to insert them as an advertisement in my next edition for nearly an hour the storm a dry storm and therefore dangerous raged and we all got as nervous as cats but nothing came of it and at last suddenly there was a sough of wind and with it the welcome dash and splash of rain how it did rain too the plankways parched and dry with weeks of sun let in the water everywhere the old boat suffering the most of course however in half an hour it was all over and the most delicious freshness came over the marsh and up from the water and we all came out and sat in the stern sheets enjoying it extremely The creepy feeling of the storm had hardly left us, so it was a fine time for telling ghost stories, and we slid into telling them almost unawares.

Tungate came out well with a local ghost story of recent date, which affected us greatly at the time.

As near as I can remember, it was to this effect.

By Emerson.

at six p m monday when the day had grown a trifle cooler i pushed the little punt out into the stream again gathered up the reins and away we ambled bidding the civil enough bumble-bees good-bye and shaking off the dust from my sandals at the rascally mosquitoes which had been boring my skin and slightly boring me also and when i came to think of it that it is only the lady mosquitoes and not the gentlemen that are such terrors to bite and persecute one i thought them almost a parody upon our own species of course this thought was very unkind but i've had considerable experience in my daily avocation the male insect feeds on the juices of plants and is a simple vegetarian his spouse is a bloodophagist popping in her boring implement she pumps up a wee drop of our vital fluid leaving an unpleasant venomous payment in the saliva from her borer don't take my word alone for it i gained information partly from others i would not make mention of this little pest but for the fact that many of the broad sides teem with them i've had them come around me in crowds a shoal at a time fastening upon me of course wary old yacht folk moor at night against some reedless weedless bare bit of wall or rond the unwary hug the reeds and sedges just where the little beggars resort i think i myself would sooner be swarmed with wasps for they hardly take you unawares and their sting may be quickly neutralised by a plaster of wet salt a bit of soda dissolved in a wine-glass of vinegar gives immediate relief when no pain or swelling follows but why is it that not one solitary wasp has come to me since june my head remained so curious with the heat of the day that i could only recover my ink potting with a force of will i didn't suspect i possessed but the output was poor and had to be done all over again but the lily pads came to my rescue i pulled out two leaves placed them wet under a towel on top of my head and experienced relief uneasy lies the head that's crowned but why should not the worries of a king be eased in this simple fashion why don't kings come to the broads and try it i was determined to reach stalham by nightfall passing through ersted i was delighted with a picture made by a wherry entering the tree-shaded river leisurely a beautiful picture reminding me of charles harrison's exquisite creation where he is at coltershall a reproduction of which is in the life of harrison now in the libraries and out of print barton broad open to view with its piled stumps like broken teeth guarding the channels a broad magnificent stretch of water equal if not superior to wroxham open to every breeze.

Don't you wish everything was more rewarding? With Rakuten, almost everything is.

You can earn cash back on those new shoes you've been wanting.

By God's own light illumined and foreshowed.

at six p m monday when the day had grown a trifle cooler i pushed the little punt out into the stream again gathered up the reins and away we ambled bidding the civil enough bumble-bees good-bye and shaking off the dust from my sandals at the rascally mosquitoes which had been boring my skin and slightly boring me also and when i came to think of it that it is only the lady mosquitoes and not the gentlemen that are such terrors to bite and persecute one i thought them almost a parody upon our own species of course this thought was very unkind but i've had considerable experience in my daily avocation the male insect feeds on the juices of plants and is a simple vegetarian his spouse is a bloodophagist popping in her boring implement she pumps up a wee drop of our vital fluid leaving an unpleasant venomous payment in the saliva from her borer don't take my word alone for it i gained information partly from others i would not make mention of this little pest but for the fact that many of the broad sides team with them i've had them come around me in crowds a shoal at a time fastening upon me of course wary old yacht folk moor at night against some reedless weedless bare bit of wall or rond the unwary hug the reeds and sedges just where the little beggars resort i think i myself would sooner be swarmed with wasps for they hardly take you unawares and their sting may be quickly neutralised by a plaster of wet salt a bit of soda dissolved in a wine-glass of vinegar gives immediate relief when no pain or swelling follows but why is it that not one solitary wasp has come to me since june my head remained so curious with the heat of the day that i could only recover my ink potting with a force of will i didn't suspect i possessed but the output was poor and had to be done all over again but the lily pads came to my rescue i pulled out two leaves placed them wet under a towel on top of my head and experienced relief uneasy lies the head that's crowned but why should not the worries of a king be eased in this simple fashion why don't kings come to the broads and try it i was determined to reach stalham by nightfall passing through ersted i was delighted with a picture made by a wherry entering the tree-shaded river leisurely a beautiful picture reminding me of charles harrison's exquisite creation wherries at coltershall a reproduction of which is in the life of harrison now in the libraries and out of print barton broad open to view with its piled stumps like broken teeth guarding the channels a broad magnificent stretch of water equal if not superior to wroxham open to every breeze but before i had crawled across it the yarwhelp looked like a browsing hare in a carrot patch Mrs. Wiggs's cabbage patch was not in it.

As I write this last line, a couple of winged reddish insects have fallen from a willow tree into the angle of my half-open notebook.

They are fighting hammer and tongs.

they may be i think they are ants of some sort winged ones on touching my finger both became startled separated and flew away below the platform fear shone rising in every direction but the barton weeds they cloyed my oar-blades they caught in the boughs dead lily leaves sedges and what not a queer place for fishermen to cast angle as some did only to have their baits held up it was just then a seemingly hopeless wilderness of vegetable abominations but my opinions became reversed in the morning when the wind or some more mysterious forces of nature had driven the weed to the sides and to my surprise lusty marshmen were hauling it out and piling it on the shore with long-handled four-pronged forks jolly heartbreaking work said i to the evident boss of the team jolly dry work said he and the lines of coleridge came to mind again water water everywhere c by the time i reached the entrance to stalham dyke i had become fairly well fatigued and on the dyke itself i made woeful progress i had fairly got into the doldrums and expected almost to see the pitch bubbling in the old craft's seams it was a case of a painted ship upon a painted ocean the miles seemed unending or was it my laggard arms not up to the task there is no fool they say like an old one and i must have been he every two miles seemed two hundred at last in a sort of despair i drew to a swampy bit of level stuck in my little stakes and commenced to build up in the gloaming a tent in a very wilderness of weeds and water slap slap slap came up stream the music from a small boat with an out motor on the stern i have always insisted that these machines lacked music let alone poetry but i was converted from the error of my ways or nearly for my coming friends might refuse a salvage job would they please give a poor old derelict a tow the answer was in the affirmative and i silently blessed the lifeboat and its crew the speed we went at seemed moderately rapid but the yaw whelp disillusioned this opinion in the morning when i got a draft of wind behind me five miles an hour i believe was our progress that little procession that tiny pageant was pathetic two good samaritans ahead a panting forlorn variegated skipper behind with arms akimbo lolling in full enjoyment of arrest i was not sorry for the shoal of mosquitoes that smothered my craft examining every stick and cord of it and me was the top sawyer lot i ever met with I staked down in a stalem dyke-end, and turned in as early as I could for what proved to be a moderately good nap.

Next morning I fell across a venerable gent in a fizzy kind of nightcap, garnished with luxurious braidings and a tassel, standing at the door of his tackle-shop.

come in my old friend was the pressing invite of elmer nichols sage fishing expert giver of good advice to those who patronised his fishing-gear emporium and these did not seem a scanty following with a bottle of lime-juice in one hand candles in my trousers pocket for i've left my brass lamp somewhere on the bank a lump of shop cake in the bosom of my cardigan i was ushered into his sanctum to an early breakfast and an angler's confabulation with all this raffle of goods about me i would not have met mrs nolittle for a shilling i can assure you but yacht folk smarter than i do queer shopping in the villages and enjoy it it is part of the game but what an alteration in the morning the stalham dyke no longer steamed in the moonlight and the morning sun beautified the interminable lines of reeds and rushes and i had a fair wind astern of me pure white water-lilies were holding up their faces to be kissed by the sun like freshly attired clean-faced children looking for a mother's loving kiss just as my bonnie grandkiddies hang on to their dear grandma's lips and would too no doubt on grandad's but for grandfather's hairy whiskers how short the run to barton broad seemed to me wind freshening and the furlongs slide by like the telegraph poles past the railway carriage slipped under a tree at hurstead and made a frugal dinner but it was as hot there as in the open so i popped the unwashed plates into the lockers and up went the bitto rag again i had lightened the ballast by eating from the paper bag from stalham i must hurry on and quote from my notes river downwards now winds continuously like a mattress spring pulled out of its spirals the higher peaks yacht sails catch the wind above the reeds and rushes whilst my poor wing flaps feebly reached whitehouse staith without further incident reached ludham bridge and took up my last sunday night's quarters tired again but it must be this appalling heat i laid my thermometer outside on the deck at six forty five it had lowered to seventy five degrees by seven forty it had gone down to seventy degrees and there stuck i rigged up the awning early and after tea i went to roost at eight o'clock to be correct and slept well until five thirty in the morning in patches a slight roger jarred my ship on one occasion but her moorings held perhaps a yacht would have scorned it water voles were out a-progging around about all the night i pegged down a small bream a boy angler gave me skewering it to the bank in the morning nothing but the stick remained water voles will eat dead fishes which is not proof that they can catch live ones i'm sure they cannot in a fair hunt Hard by the peg were some broken fragments of a swan-mussel, no doubt left there by the water-voles.

CHAPTER XIII.

Chapter 12 In Broadland Doldrums where darkness found him he lay glad at night there the red morning touched him with its light go where he will the wise man is at home his hearth the earth his hall the azure dome where his clear spirit leads him there's his road by god's own light illumined and foreshowed By Emerson.

at six p m monday when the day had grown a trifle cooler i pushed the little punt out into the stream again gathered up the reins and away we ambled bidding the civil enough bumble-bees good-bye and shaking off the dust from my sandals at the rascally mosquitoes which had been boring my skin and slightly boring me also and when i came to think of it that it is only the lady mosquitoes and not the gentlemen that are such terrors to bite and persecute one i thought them almost a parody upon our own species of course this thought was very unkind but i've had considerable experience in my daily avocation the male insect feeds on the juices of plants and is a simple vegetarian his spouse is a blood o phagist popping in her boring implement she pumps up a wee drop of our vital fluid leaving an unpleasant venomous payment in the saliva from her borer don't take my word alone for it i gained information partly from others i would not make mention of this little pest but for the fact that many of the broad sides teem with them i've had them come around me in crowds a shoal at a time fastening upon me of course wary old yacht folk moor at night against some reedless weedless bare bit of wall or rond the unwary hug the reeds and sedges just where the little beggars resort i think i myself would sooner be swarmed with wasps for they hardly take you unawares and their sting may be quickly neutralised by a plaster of wet salt a bit of soda dissolved in a wine-glass of vinegar gives immediate relief when no pain or swelling follows but why is it that not one solitary wasp has come to me since june my head remained so curious with the heat of the day that i could only recover my ink potting with a force of will i didn't suspect i possessed but the output was poor and had to be done all over again but the lily pads came to my rescue i pulled out two leaves placed them wet under a towel on top of my head and experienced relief uneasy lies the head that's crowned but why should not the worries of a king be eased in this simple fashion why don't kings come to the broads and try it i was determined to reach stalham by nightfall passing through ersted i was delighted with a picture made by a wherry entering the tree-shaded river leisurely a beautiful picture reminding me of charles harrison's exquisite creation wherries at coltershall a reproduction of which is in the life of harrison now in the libraries and out of print barton broad open to view with its piled stumps like broken teeth guarding the channels a broad magnificent stretch of water equal if not superior to wroxham open to every breeze but before i had crawled across it the yarwhelp looked like a browsing hare in a carrot patch mrs wiggs's cabbage patch was not in it as i write this last line a couple of winged reddish insects have fallen from a willow tree into the angle of my half-open notebook they are fighting hammer and tongs under my lens it looks a fight of miniature tigers they may be i think they are ants of some sort winged ones on touching my finger both became startled separated and flew away below the platform fear shone rising in every direction but the barton weeds they cloyed my oar-blades they caught in the boughs dead lily leaves sedges and what not a queer place for fishermen to cast angle as some did only to have their baits held up it was just then a seemingly hopeless wilderness of vegetable abominations but my opinions became reversed in the morning when the wind or some more mysterious forces of nature had driven the weed to the sides and to my surprise lusty marshmen were hauling it out and piling it on the shore with long-handled four-pronged forks jolly heart-breaking work said i to the evident boss of the team jolly dry work said he and the lines of coleridge came to mind again water water everywhere c by the time i reached the entrance to stalham dyke i had become fairly well fatigued and on the dyke itself i made woeful progress i had fairly got into the doldrums and expected almost to see the pitch bubbling in the old craft's seams it was a case of a painted ship upon a painted ocean the miles seemed unending or was it my laggard arms not up to the task there is no fool they say like an old one and i must have been he every two miles seemed two hundred at last in a sort of despair i drew to a swampy bit of level stuck in my little stakes and commenced to build up in the gloaming a tent in a very wilderness of weeds and water slap slap slap came up stream the music from a small boat with an out-motor on the stern i have always insisted that these machines lacked music let alone poetry but i was converted from the error of my ways or nearly for my coming friends might refuse a salvage job would they please give a poor old derelict a tow the answer was in the affirmative and i silently blessed the lifeboat and its crew the speed we went at seemed moderately rapid but the yarwelt disillusioned this opinion in the morning when i got a draught of wind behind me five miles an hour i believe was our progress that little procession that tiny pageant was pathetic two good samaritans ahead a panting forlorn variegated skipper behind with arms akimbo lolling in full enjoyment of arrest i was not sorry for the shoal of mosquitoes that smothered my craft examining every stick and cord of it and me was the top sawyer lot i ever met with i staked down in a stalem dyke end and turned in as early as i could for what proved to be a moderately good nap next morning i fell across a venerable gent in a fizzy kind of nightcap garnished with luxurious braidings and a tassel standing at the door of his tackle shop come in my old friend was the pressing invite of elmer nichols sage fishing expert giver of good advice to those who patronised his fishing gear emporium and these did not seem a scanty following with a bottle of lime-juice in one hand candles in my trousers pocket for i've left my brass lamp somewhere on the bank a lump of shop cake in the bosom of my cardigan i was ushered into his sanctum to an early breakfast and an angler's confabulation with all this raffle of goods about me i would not have met mrs nolittle for a shilling i can assure you but yacht folk smarter than i do queer shopping in the villages and enjoy it it is part of the game but what an alteration in the morning the stalham dyke no longer steamed in the moonlight and the morning sun beautified the interminable lines of reeds and rushes and i had a fair wind astern of me pure white water-lilies were holding up their faces to be kissed by the sun like freshly attired clean-faced children looking for a mother's loving kiss just as my bonnie grandkiddies hang on to their dear grandma's lips and would too no doubt on grandad's but for grandfather's hairy whiskers how short the run to barton broad seemed to me wind freshening and the furlongs slide by like the telegraph poles past the railway carriage slipped under a tree at hurstead and made a frugal dinner but it was as hot there as in the open so i popped the unwashed plates into the lockers and up went the bitto rag again i had lightened the ballast by eating from the paper bag from stalham i must hurry on and quote from my notes river downwards now winds continuously like a mattress spring pulled out of its spirals the higher peaks yacht sails catch the wind above the reeds and rushes whilst my poor wing flaps feebly reached whitehouse staith without further incident reached ludham bridge and took up my last sunday night's quarters tired again but it must be this appalling heat i laid my thermometer outside on the deck at 6 45 it had lowered to 75 degrees by 7 40 it had gone down to 70 degrees and there stuck i rigged up the awning early and after tea i went to roost at eight o'clock to be correct and slept well until five thirty in the morning in patches a slight roger jarred my ship on one occasion but her moorings held perhaps a yacht would have scorned it water voles were out a-progging around about all the night i pegged down a small bream a boy angler gave me skewering it to the bank in the morning nothing but the stick remained water voles will eat dead fishes which is not proof that they can catch live ones i'm sure they cannot in a fair hunt Hard by the peg were some broken fragments of a swan-mussel, no doubt left there by the water-voles.

chapter thirteen the monk of st bennet's The enjoyment of lone travel is intensified by voyaging in a canoe, for this isolates more completely than any other mode.

The want of a companion is never felt, because each moment has engagement.

When we got back to the boat, we saw the man fast asleep on the counter, with his rod in the river in tow of a large perch weighing one pound and a half, which we secured.

About a mile further on the right hand, as we ascend the river, is the mouth of the River Ant, leading to Barton Broad and Statham, of which more anon.

'The river is getting uncommonly pretty,' said Wynn, 'and this slow tacking enables me to see it to advantage, eh? How close we steer to the fishing boats, and pray tell me, why do fishermen in Norfolk wear such extraordinary hats? Here is another dike.

Can we sail down it? If we only drew four feet of water, we could go on to Ramworth Broad.' Then, on my next cruise here, I will get a yacht that does not draw more than a wherry does.

It is marked by the presence of a church on the western bank, and is one of the few places on these waters where a person who cannot swim can bathe with safety or comfort.

The muddy bottom, of course, prohibits wading.

As you approach the entrance to Barton Broad, the bottom becomes muddy again, and the broad itself is full of mud, there being large hills where the water is not more than two feet deep.

The navigable channels wind between these hills and are marked out by posts.

When we got back to the boat, we saw the man fast asleep on the counter, with his rod in the river In tow of a large perch weighing one pound and a half, which we secured.

About a mile further, on the right hand, as we ascend the river, is the mouth of the River Ant, leading to Barton Broad and Statham, of which more anon.

"The river is getting uncommonly pretty," said Wynn, "and this slow tacking enables me to see it to advantage, eh? How close we steer to the fishing boats.

And pray tell me, why do fishermen in Norfolk wear such extraordinary hats? Here is another dike.

It is marked by the presence of a church on the western bank, and is one of the few places on these waters where a person who cannot swim can bathe with safety or comfort.

The muddy bottom, of course, prohibits wading.

As you approach the entrance to Barton Broad, the bottom becomes muddy again, and the broad itself is full of mud, there being large hills where the water is not more than two feet deep.

The navigable channels wind between these hills and are marked out by posts.