The Argosy — page 53: what you’re looking at

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42 The Channel Islands. less than fifty had thronged in. H. and I were reduced to the extremi- ties of herrings in a barrel. But the rain came down in torrents and no one had the heart to remonstrate. We certainly wondered the horses did not strike, and refuse to work under such conditions ; but over and over again the dumb brute creation proves itself more patient, sensible and forbearing than man. These horses knew that, however badly off they might be, there is always a still lower depth, and they acted accordingly. ‘That is just where we often fail. We strike out in the dark, and give the fatal plunge, forgetting the risks and uncertainties of unknown evils. The car did not break down, but landed us very near the hotel. In the reading-room, very thinly partitioned off from the coffee-room, we took the favourable opportunity, as the schoolboys say, of writing letters to those with whom we had left a large portion of our hearts. Undoubtedly the room was warm ; but H.—my familiar friend and fellow traveller—is a Salamander, and though a good Christian is none the lessa Fire-worshipper. He revelled in the heated air, whilst I, like a fish out of water, longed for more of one’s native element. Suddenly there entered a tall, majestic, strong-minded and imposing lady. Unceremoniously, and without attempting to find out if it were generally agreeable, she propped wide the door and both windows, placed everyone in a thorough draught, and seated herself midway in the current. It blew a strong blast, cold, damp and dangerous. I sneezed nine times. H. declared he felt every symptom of a severe influenza. A third victim was seized with ague, and called for hot brandy-and-water. Even the strong-minded lady herself finished up with a sneeze and a sudden cough, hailed with a chorus of unmitigated and revengeful delight. At the end of twenty minutes, spent in studying Bradshaw, which was evidently too much for her, she rose up to her utmost height, deliberately closed the windows, and departed with a firm step. Towards midnight we too departed. Passing through the dock gates we saw an illuminated placard announcing ‘‘ This way to the Jersey boat.” The usual scene was in progress. The bustle and noise of shipping cargo; the shouts of men and the rattling of chains; whilst the few glimmering lights, making darkness yet more visible, confused one’s vision and rendered the gangway dangerous and uncertain. We found our way to the bridge. The last train from London steamed up with its small complement of passengers and the mail bags, and on the very stroke of midnight the “//a went her way. ; We had been warned. It was madness to go to the Channel) Islands in October. The crossing was always frightfully rough, often dangerous. Sometimes boats were lost, sometimes they had to put back, sometimes they never left at all. Madeira, the Azores, Sicily, even a voyage to the Cape—anything in short would be more sensible, less insane, than crossing to Jersey in the teeth of the Equinox. Gomicbooks.co