Summary

Ernest R. Suffling Jethou; or, Crusoe Life in the Channel Isles

At breakfast time, eight o'clock, we moored in the mouth of the Bure, just alongside the quay by the ancient North Gate, which has looked down upon the muddy old river for the past five centuries, its head held high in the air, as if wishing to avoid the assortment of smells which accompany the floating garbage sailing slowly towards the sea.
How impatient I was for the tide to run up and bear me home to Barton, about twenty miles from our present moorings, and at last it did turn. To give it time to gain strength we waited a full hour, then, spreading our joyous sails, away we sped.
Source: Gutenberg

Ernest R. Suffling Jethou; or, Crusoe Life in the Channel Isles

The Cotills being near the awful crater-like mouth of La Creux Derrible, I thought I would go and explore it, and find out in my own way, all about it; so, dropping my occupation, I wandered slowly down the zig-zag, bracken-hemmed path, lit my pipe, and prepared myself for laziness for an hour.
When I am lazy I like to be thorough. I cannot bear to be half at work and half at play; it is neither one thing nor another. So on this occasion I strolled quietly down the pathway, which zig-zags seven or eight times before it ends abruptly on the brow of a little cliff facing La Fauconnaire.
Source: Gutenberg

Ernest R. Suffling Jethou; or, Crusoe Life in the Channel Isles

I tug, and push, and presently it nods, and nods, and rolls over and over, till gathering impetus down the steep side of the island, it crashes with irresistible force through the furze, and heather, and shrubs, clearing a path as it goes till it reaches the granite rocks, upon which it crashes and bounds, breaking off great splinters, till finally with a boom it buries itself in the foam, never more to be seen by mortal eyes.
Source: Gutenberg

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