TO THE LIGHTHOUSEway out, the sails slowly swung round, the boatquickened itself, flattened itself, and shot off. In-stantly, as if some great strain had been relieved, Mr.Ramsay uncurled his legs, took out his tobaccopouch, handed it with a little grunt to Macalister,and felt, they knew, for all they suffered, perfectlycontent. Now they would sail on for hours like this,and Mr. Ramsay would ask old Macalister a ques-tion—about the great storm last winter probably—and old Macalister would answer it, and they wouldpuff their pipes together, and Macalister would takea tarry rope in his fingers, tying or untying someknot, and the boy would fish, and never say a word toany one. James would be forced to keep his eye allthe time on the sail. For if he forgot, then the sailpuckered and shivered, and the boat slackened, andMr. Ramsay would say sharply, "Look out! Lookout!" and old Macalister would turn slowly on hisseat. So they heard Mr. Ramsay asking some ques-tion about the great storm at Christmas. "She comesdriving round the point," old Macalister said, de-scribing the great storm last Christmas, when tenships had been driven into the bay for shelter, andhe had seen "one there, one there, one there" (hepointed slowly round the bay. Mr. Ramsay followedhim, turning his head). He had seen four men cling-ing to the mast. Then she was gone. “And at last we244
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