Beatrice | Page 6

soul
for true sport.
Just such an experience as this had befallen Geoffrey Bingham. He had
bagged his wild duck and his brace of curlew--that is, he had bagged
one of them, for the other was floating in the sea--when a sudden
increase in the density of the mist put a stop to further operations. He
shook the wet seaweed off his rough clothes, and, having lit a short
briar pipe, set to work to hunt for the duck and the first curfew. He
found them easily enough, and then, walking to the edge of the rocks,
up the sides of which the tide was gradually creeping, peered into the
mist to see if he could find the other. Presently the fog lifted a little,
and he discovered the bird floating on the oily water about fifty yards
away. A little to the left the rocks ran out in a peak, and he knew from
experience that the tide setting towards the shore would carry the
curlew past this peak. So he went to its extremity, sat down upon a big
stone and waited. All this while the tide was rising fast, though, intent
as he was upon bringing the curlew to bag, he did not pay much heed to

it, forgetting that it was cutting him off from the land. At last, after
more than half-an-hour of waiting, he caught sight of the curlew again,
but, as bad luck would have it, it was still twenty yards or more from
him and in deep water. He was determined, however, to get the bird if
he could, for Geoffrey hated leaving his game, so he pulled up his
trousers and set to work to wade towards it. For the first few steps all
went well, but the fourth or fifth landed him in a hole that wet his right
leg nearly up to the thigh and gave his ankle a severe twist. Reflecting
that it would be very awkward if he sprained his ankle in such a lonely
place, he beat a retreat, and bethought him, unless the curlew was to
become food for the dog-fish, that he had better strip bodily and swim
for it. This--for Geoffrey was a man of determined mind--he decided to
do, and had already taken off his coat and waistcoat to that end, when
suddenly some sort of a boat--he judged it to be a canoe from the
slightness of its shape--loomed up in the mist before him. An idea
struck him: the canoe or its occupant, if anybody could be insane
enough to come out canoeing in such water, might fetch the curlew and
save him a swim.
"Hi!" he shouted in stentorian tones. "Hullo there!"
"Yes," answered a woman's gentle voice across the waters.
"Oh," he replied, struggling to get into his waistcoat again, for the voice
told him that he was dealing with some befogged lady, "I'm sure I beg
your pardon, but would you do me a favour? There is a dead curlew
floating about, not ten yards from your boat. If you wouldn't mind----"
A white hand was put forward, and the canoe glided on towards the
bird. Presently the hand plunged downwards into the misty waters and
the curlew was bagged. Then, while Geoffrey was still struggling with
his waistcoat, the canoe sped towards him like a dream boat, and in
another moment it was beneath his rock, and a sweet dim face was
looking up into his own.

Now let us go back a little (alas! that the privilege should be peculiar to

the recorder of things done), and see how it came about that Beatrice
Granger was present to retrieve Geoffrey Bingham's dead curlew.
Immediately after the unpleasant idea recorded in the last, or, to be
more accurate, in the first chapter of this comedy, had impressed itself
upon Beatrice's mind, she came to the conclusion that she had seen
enough of the Dog Rocks for one afternoon. Thereon, like a sensible
person, she set herself to quit them in the same way that she had
reached them, namely by means of a canoe. She got into her canoe
safely enough, and paddled a little way out to sea, with a view of
returning to the place whence she came. But the further she went out,
and it was necessary that she should go some way on account of the
rocks and the currents, the denser grew the fog. Sounds came through it
indeed, but she could not clearly distinguish whence they came, till at
last, well as she knew the coast, she grew confused as to whither she
was heading. In this dilemma, while she rested on her paddle staring
into the dense surrounding mist and keeping her grey eyes as wide open
as nature would